In his will Fiske left a small sum—$5,000—to my mother's mother. It was the most delicate way in which he could leave some of his money so that his old sweetheart might get it. The terms of the will were that this money should be divided at my grandmother's death. It was so divided, and a certain portion of it should have come to me; but I never received a penny. This was my second bequest, for I allowed others to take freely what belonged to me.
My third bequest was made with my eyes open. When I was about starting for Australia in '53, another uncle-in-law, George W. Frost, whom I afterward appointed purchasing agent of the Union Pacific Railway, a splendid gentleman and a clergyman, came to me and said: "Your Aunt Abbie" (his wife) "and myself are going to take care of your old grandmother on the farm. Have you any objections to signing away your interest in the old place?"
I said that, of course, I would sign it away. I was all right. I was going out into the great world to make fortunes. And I signed it away, as if it were a mere nothing.
These incidents I mention here as illustrations of my whole life. Since my fourth year I have given away—thrown away—money. I have made others rich. But I have never yet got what was due me from others.
CHAPTER II
MY VOYAGE FROM NEW ORLEANS TO BOSTON
1833
I found myself a part of the cargo—shipped as freight, 2,000 miles, from the tropics to the arctic region, without a friend to take care of me. I was alone. This feeling, however, did not oppress me overmuch. Every one on board tried to make a pet of me, and, besides, there was so much to do, so much to see, so much to feel. From cabin to fo'cas'le I was made welcome.
There was only one cabin passenger besides myself. I sat at table opposite this passenger, and I remember that at the first meal they brought on some "flapjacks" (our present-day wheat-cakes). I was very fond of them, and ate them with sirup or molasses. I noticed that my companion in the cabin did not use molasses with his. I could not understand why any one should eat his flapjacks without molasses.
I thought this stranger too ignorant to know that molasses was the proper thing with flapjacks, and tried to help him to a fuller knowledge of the resources of the table. I reached over, and tried to pour some molasses on his plate. Just then a heavy sea struck the ship, and I was thrown forward with a lurch. The entire contents of the molasses jug went in a flood over the man's trousers! Of course he was furious, and did not appreciate my efforts to teach him. I expected him to strike me, but he did not. It did not occur to me to beg his pardon, as I was doing what I thought to be a pure act of kindness. We afterward became good friends.