was scarce for poor folks, and Jack-son's kin died, and the boy, An-drew, was out in the world. He was made a cap-tive and had hard luck. An Eng-lish-man, in a high post, gave cross words to the child, said he was low-bred scum and had no rights. He flung his boots at the child, told him to "clean the beast-ly red mud off of them and be quick!" The Eng-lish-man had one by him whose work it was to do this. The boy An-drew knew it and said with spunk that it "was not the place of a free A-mer-ican boy to clean Brit-ish boots!" Then the rude man sprang at the lad, told him he was a cur and spoke vile words. He struck the poor child with his sword and made a deep welt in the wrist, way to the bone. There was a cut far in-to the head, too, and the blood ran in a stream. An-drew Jack-son bore those scars to his grave. They put strength in him when his time came to meet the foe in the field. Through the Brit-ish, the boy had lost his moth-er, all his kin, and his home, and near-ly lost his own life. He felt that he would like to rid the land of such a foe.
The strong Scot-tish blood which ran in An-drew's veins gave him the sort of brain and brawn which was a great help to him and to the land of his birth. He had his way to make and he made it but there was much to bear. Once a man shot him. Then he was thrown in jail with a wound. Next, he had the small pox, and when he got up from it he did not know, for a time, what to do or where to go. But he kept a brave heart and felt that there must be some chance for him in this big world.
It came to his mind that it would be well to learn a trade. He thought he should like to make such things as reins, straps, and gear of all sorts for hor-ses. This work
