bin
factory. It was too much for me. I found myself night after night,
sitting up in bed trying the steam gauges, fearing at one time that
the steam was too low and that the workers above would complain that
they had not power enough, and at another time that the steam was too
high and that the boiler might burst.

But all this it was a matter of honor to conceal from my parents. They
had their own troubles and bore them. I must play the man and bear
mine. My hopes were high, and I looked every day for some change to
take place. What it was to be I knew not, but that it would come I
felt certain if I kept on. Besides, at this date I was not beyond
asking myself what Wallace would have done and what a Scotsman ought
to do. Of one thing I was sure, he ought never to give up.

One day the chance came. Mr. Hay had to make out some bills. He had no
clerk, and was himself a poor penman. He asked me what kind of hand I
could write, and gave me some writing to do. The result pleased him,
and he found it convenient thereafter to let me make out his bills. I
was also good at figures; and he soon found it to be to his
interest--and besides, dear old man, I believe he was moved by good
feeling toward the white-haired boy, for he had a kind heart and was
Scotch and wished to relieve me from the engine--to put me at other
things, less objectionable except in one feature.

It now became my duty to bathe the newly made spools in vats of oil.
Fortunately there was a room reserved for this purpose and I was
alone, but not all the resolution I could muster, nor all the
indignation I felt at my own weakness, prevented my stomach from
behaving in a most perverse way. I never succeeded in overcoming the
nausea produced by the smell of the oil. Even Wallace and Bruce proved
impotent here. But if I had to lose breakfast, or dinner, I had all
the better appetite for supper, and the allotted work was done. A real
disciple of Wallace or Bruce could not give up; he would die first.

My service with Mr. Hay was a distinct advance upon the cotton
factory, and I also made the acquaintance of an employer who was very
kind to me. Mr. Hay kept his books in single entry, and I was able to
handle them for him; but hearing that all great firms kept their books
in double entry, and after talking over the matter with my companions,
John Phipps, Thomas N. Miller, and William Cowley, we all determined
to attend night school during the winter and learn the