ther was one of the founders of the first library in his
native town, and that I have been fortunate enough to be the founder
of the last one, is certainly to me one of the most interesting
incidents of my life. I have said often, in public speeches, that I
had never heard of a lineage for which I would exchange that of a
library-founding weaver.[16] I followed my father in library founding
unknowingly--I am tempted almost to say providentially--and it has
been a source of intense satisfaction to me. Such a father as mine was
a guide to be followed--one of the sweetest, purest, and kindest
natures I have ever known.

[Footnote 16: "It's a God's mercy we are all from honest weavers; let
us pity those who haven't ancestors of whom they can be proud, dukes
or duchesses though they be." (_Our Coaching Trip_, by Andrew
Carnegie. New York, 1882.)]

I have stated that it was the theater which first stimulated my love
for Shakespeare. In my messenger days the old Pittsburgh Theater was
in its glory under the charge of Mr. Foster. His telegraphic business
was done free, and the telegraph operators were given free admission
to the theater in return. This privilege extended in some degree also
to the messengers, who, I fear, sometimes withheld telegrams that
arrived for him in the late afternoon until they could be presented
at the door of the theater in the evening, with the timid request
that the messenger might be allowed to slip upstairs to the second
tier--a request which was always granted. The boys exchanged duties to
give each the coveted entrance in turn.

In this way I became acquainted with the world that lay behind the
green curtain. The plays, generally, were of the spectacular order;
without much literary merit, but well calculated to dazzle the eye of
a youth of fifteen. Not only had I never seen anything so grand, but I
had never seen anything of the kind. I had never been in a theater, or
even a concert room, or seen any form of public amusement. It was much
the same with "Davy" McCargo, "Harry" Oliver, and "Bob" Pitcairn. We
all fell under the fascination of the footlights, and every
opportunity to attend the theater was eagerly embraced.

A change in my tastes came when "Gust" Adams,[17] one of the most
celebrated tragedians of the day, began to play in Pittsburgh a round
of Shakespearean characters. Thenceforth there was nothing for me but
Shakespeare. I seemed to be able to memorize him almost without
eff