My father being one of the sweetest and most pathetic singers I ever heard, I probably inherited his love of music and of song, though not given his voice.

Confucius' exclamation often sounds in my ears: "Music, sacred tongue of God! I hear thee calling and I come." An incident of this same period exhibits the liberality of my parents in another matter.

As a messenger boy I had no holidays, with the exception of two weeks given me in the summer-time, which I spent boating on the river with cousins at my uncle's at East Liverpool, Ohio.

I was very fond of skating, and in the winter about which I am speaking, the slack water of the river opposite our house was beautifully frozen over.

The ice was in splendid condition, and reaching home late Saturday night the question arose whether I might be permitted to rise early in the morning and go skating before church hours.