He said he was all broken up to think I’d gotten a green watermelon.
He promised the he would never carry another green watermelon if he
starved for it. And he drove off–a better man.
Now, do you see what I did for that man? He was on a downward path, and
I rescued him. But all I got out of it was a watermelon.
Yet I’d rather have that memory–just that memory of the good I did for
that depraved farmer–than all the material gain you can think of. Look
at the lesson he got! I never got anything like that from it. But I
ought to be satisfied: I was only eleven years old, but I secured
everlasting benefit to other people.
The moral in this is perfectly clear, and I think there’s one in they
next memory I’m going to tell you about.
To go back to my childhood, there’s another little incident that comes to
me from which you can draw even another moral. It’s about one of the
times I went fishing. You see, in our house there was a sort of family
prejudice against going fishing if you hadn’t permission. But it would
frequently be bad judgment to ask. So I went fishing secretly, as it
were–way up the Mississippi. It was an exquisitely happy trip, I
recall, with a very pleasant sensation.
Well, while I was away there was a tragedy in our town. A stranger,
stopping over on his way East from California; was stabbed to death in an
unseemly brawl.
Now; my father was justice of the peace, and because he was justice of
the peace he was coroner; and since he was coroner he was also constable;
and being constable he vas sheriff; and out of consideration for his
holding the office of sheriff he was likewise county clerk and a dozen
other officials I don’t think of just this minute.
I thought he had power of life or death, only he didn’t use it over other
boys. He was sort of an austere man. Somehow I didn’t like being round
him when I’d done anything he, disapproved of. So that’s the reason I
wasn’t often around.
Well, when this gentleman got knifed they communicated with the proper
authority; the coroner, and they laid, the corpse out in the coroner’s
office–our front sitting-room–in preparation for the inquest the next
morning.
About 9 or 10 o’clock I got back from fishing. It was a little too late
for me to be received by my folks, so I took my shoes off and slipped
noiselessly up the back way to the sitting-room. I was very tired, and I
didn’t wish to disturb my people. So I groped my way to the sofa and lay
down.
Now, I didn’t know anything of what had happened during my absence.
But I was sort of nervous on my own account-afraid of being caught,
and rather dubious about the morning affair. And I had been lying there
a few moments when my eyes gradually got used to the darkness, and I
became aware of something on the other side of the room.
It was something foreign to the apartment. It had an uncanny appearance.
And I sat up looking very hard, and wondering what in heaven this long,
formless, vicious-looking thing might be.
First I thought I’d go and see. Then I thought, “Never mind that.”
Mind you, I had no cowardly sensations whatever, but it didn’t seem
exactly prudent to investigate. But I somehow couldn’t keep my eyes off
the thing. And the more I looked at it the more disagreeably it grew on
me. But I was resolved to play the man. So I decided to turn over and
count a hundred, and let the patch of moonlight creep up and show me what
the dickens it was.
I turned over and tried to count, but I couldn’t keep my mind on it.
I kept thinking of that grewsome mass. I was losing count all the time,
and going back and beginning over again. Oh no; I wasn’t frightened–
just annoyed. But by the time I’d gotten to the century mark I turned
cautiously over and opened my eyes with great fortitude.