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Title: Born Again

Author: Alfred Lawson

Release Date: October 4, 2006 [EBook #19459]

Language: English


*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BORN AGAIN ***




Produced by Jerry Kuntz as part of the Lawson's Progress
Project, http://www.lawsonsprogress.com

Born Again

by Alfred Lawson

DEDICATION

One day, not many years ago, while walking along a street in Detroit, Michigan, I was stopped by a ragged and forlorn beggar, with the request for a few cents to buy something to eat.

I gave him a dime and walking on a few paces stopped to observe his following movements. Contrary to my supposition that perhaps he would enter a saloon and buy whiskey he went as fast as his weary legs would carry him in a straight course toward a restaurant on the opposite side of the street.

As he was about to enter the place his attention was attracted by a more pitiable wretch than himself standing outside who had but one leg, was partly blind, and whose nose was almost eaten off by disease.

He paused for a moment and looked sympathetically at the crippled beggar and then started again toward the door of the restaurant, but before entering he stopped once more to take another look, and after a few moments' hesitation he deliberately turned about, handed the other fellow the dime and walked away without feeding himself.

Of all the heroic deeds I have ever witnessed, I recollect none quite so grand and noble as this act, for notwithstanding this poor beggar may have been heir to every other weakness a human being could possibly contract, still he contained that spark of unselfish love for his fellow beings, without which no man is more than a mere brute, and for that reason I respectfully dedicate this work to his memory.

ALFRED WILLIAM LAWSON.

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER IV

CHAPTER V

CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VII

CHAPTER VIII

CHAPTER IX

CHAPTER X

CHAPTER XI

CHAPTER XII

CHAPTER XIII

CHAPTER XIV

CHAPTER XV

CHAPTER XVI

CHAPTER XVII

CHAPTER XVIII

CHAPTER XIX

CHAPTER XX

CHAPTER XXI

CHAPTER XXII

CHAPTER XXIII

CHAPTER XXIV

CHAPTER XXV

CHAPTER XXVI

CHAPTER XXVII

CHAPTER XXVIII

CHAPTER XXIX

CHAPTER XXX

CHAPTER XXXI

CHAPTER XXXII

CHAPTER XXXIII

EPILOGUE

STRAY SHOTS

CHAPTER I

Judging from my own experience it is my opinion that many strange and wonderful events have happened during the past in which man took part, that have never been recorded.

Many reasons could be given for this, but the main causes perhaps, are that the participants have lacked the intelligence, education or literary ability to properly describe them.

In these respects I must admit my own inferiority. But I feel that should I not promulgate an account of my own remarkable life for the benefit of mankind then I would betray the trust nature has confided in me.

So I warn the exquisite literary critic and the over-polished individual who prefer fancy phrases to logical ideas, that this work may somewhat jar their delicate senses of perception.

And having offered these few remarks I shall introduce myself to the reader. My name is John Convert. The earth is my home and country. All men are my kin, be they white, black, red, yellow or brown. I was born somewhere on the Atlantic Ocean between Liverpool and New York while my parents were emigrating from England to America. My mother died giving me birth.

Whether or not it was because I first saw the light of day while in a state of transit that caused me afterwards to acquire a thirst for travel and adventure I cannot say, but true it is that during my whole life I have been constantly moving from place to place. Then again my father was a Methodist preacher and the good Lord ostensibly sent calls to him from every nook and corner of the United States, for as long as I can remember he too was continually changing abiding places. In fact, it seems to me now when I look back that he seldom preached twice from the same pulpit. Whether this was due to bad preaching or because he had the courage to tell the good church folk many plain truths concerning themselves, I know not, but I do know that in many ways my father was a very good man, and also a very learned man--perhaps a little too learned to be wise, for, like most great scholars he may have forced so much book stuff into his brain that he left no room for progressive thoughts of his own. He was, however, quite unlike many clergymen of the present time who apparently think and certainly act as if their main work was to flatter and amuse the women.

My father was straightforward, honest, kind and truthful. He was dogmatic in his religious beliefs, combative by nature and never happier than when fighting the Devil in his own corner, as he expressed it. Furthermore, he was haughty, stubborn and egotistical, and these traits of character I inherited from him. But while I honestly inherited combativeness, stubbornness and egotism from my father, these characteristics became very objectionable to him when displayed by myself. So from my earliest childhood days there was a continual tug of war between us to see who would be master of the house.

There was one inheritance I received from my father, however, that I have always felt profoundly grateful to him for, namely, a sound physical constitution. One of his earnest teachings, which, by the way, was generally ridiculed, was that parents should not bring children into the world unless they themselves had led temperate lives and were in perfect health. In this respect he lived as he preached and practiced temperateness in all things.

As I grew up I was taught to take care of myself physically, as well as mentally and morally. At the age of eleven I was as large and strong as most boys of sixteen, and at sixteen there were few men who could outdo me in feats of strength and endurance. My education was limited to what I learned at the different public schools which I attended, and without exception I was always rated as the very worst boy of the whole institution. I do not believe that ever a day passed that I was not sent to the principal for refractory conduct, and in many instances I was suspended or expelled entirely. Fighting was my chief offence as I was always ready and anxious for a fistic encounter with any boy who was willing to battle. In short, I was a very unruly child with an independent spirit, who recognized the authority of nobody to give arbitrary commands. In consequence of these facts my father and I had frequent altercations and as my innate love for travel and adventure asserted itself I ran away from home when but eleven years old, an age when most children are mere babies, and started out in the world to paddle my own canoe.

I began to earn my own living by selling newspapers on the streets of Chicago, and from that time on became a wanderer upon the face of the earth; working at various occupations and engaging in many schemes and pursuits in an endeavor to pay my way through life, and during the next eleven years I not only visited every part of the United States, but nearly every country in the world, during which time I experienced enough adventures to fill many books if put into print, but as they have no bearing upon this narrative I must pass them by without mention. And so at the age of twenty-two, being then a worthless vagabond, I was aboard a three-masted schooner working my way from Australia to England as a common sailor. That was during the year of 1881.

CHAPTER II

Phrenologists after studying the bumps on my head have invariably told me that I lacked diplomacy. This, as I understand it, simply means an incapability of acting the hypocrite. And it does seem under the present system of human existence, that he who fails to practice hypocrisy finds innumerable obstacles to overcome, which otherwise might be avoided. So, lacking in this virtue, as diplomacy is sometimes styled, led me into trouble with nearly everybody with whom I had any dealings. Indeed, had it not been for this very defect in my nature, I should not have been forced to pass through the most remarkable life, I think, ever experienced by living man. And so the ship had barely passed out of the harbor before I had undiplomatically aroused the enmity of all the other seamen, and within two weeks I was thoroughly detested by every man aboard from the captain to the cook. The crew was composed of an unusually tough set of characters who avowed from the beginning that they did not like Yankees and would make life insufferable for me before reaching the next port. Fist fights became frequent and each one of the sailors took a "punch at my head" at different times, only to learn that I enjoyed that kind of sport and retaliated in a way that laid the offender up for repairs afterward. The fact that in these encounters I always gained an easy victory over my opponents caused a more intense feeling of bitterness to exist than ever, and to make matters worse the captain's wife, who was the only woman on the ship, took sides with me against all the others. This apparently angered the captain, for on one occasion, after he had given orders to have me put in irons for breaking one of my shipmate's ribs, and she interceded in my behalf, he became furious and threatened to have me thrown overboard. This threat, however, only had the effect of making me more stubborn and defiant. As a cowboy I had fought Indians and real bad men in the western states of America, hunted elephants in Africa, tigers in India, and roughed it as a gold seeker in Australia until I had become hardened against danger and absolutely fearless, so that a menace against my life did not worry me in the least. In fact, I really enjoyed the situation and dared the captain to do his worst.

We had been out of Sydney about four weeks, and although I did not know the exact latitude and longitude, I imagined we must have been a considerable distance to the south and east of Cape Colony. It seems to me now that I heard somebody say we were a little further south of the regular course taken by vessels sailing around the Cape. It was one of those pleasant nights in December, which one must experience in southern waters to appreciate, that I took my turn on watch in the forward part of the boat. It was past midnight and one of the darkest nights I have ever known. The sea was rather calm but a good breeze astern caused the ship to make good headway. I was all alone and paced back and forth from side to side peering out into space and darkness ahead. Occasionally, I would remain for several minutes leaning against one of the railings. Except for the splashing of the sea against the side of the ship, all was quiet. As I stood in one of my meditative moods, looking