Often I began work as early as four o'clock in the
morning.
The first thing I ever learned in the way of book knowledge was
while working in this salt-furnace. Each salt-packer had his
barrels marked with a certain number. The number allotted to my
stepfather was "18." At the close of the day's work the boss of
the packers would come around and put "18" on each of our
barrels, and I soon learned to recognize that figure wherever I
saw it, and after a while got to the point where I could make
that figure, though I knew nothing about any other figures or
letters.
From the time that I can remember having any thoughts about
anything, I recall that I had an intense longing to learn to
read. I determined, when quite a small child, that, if I
accomplished nothing else in life, I would in some way get enough
education to enable me to read common books and newspapers. Soon
after we got settled in some manner in our new cabin in West
Virginia, I induced my mother to get hold of a book for me. How
or where she got it I do not know, but in some way she procured
an old copy of Webster's "blue-back" spelling-book, which
contained the alphabet, followed by such meaningless words as
"ab," "ba," "ca," "da." I began at once to devour this book, and
I think that it was the first one I ever had in my hands.
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