In order to save the family from actual starvation my father, night by night, took a few turnips from his master's field. These were boiled by my mother for the children's supper. The bread we had to eat was meal bread of the coarsest kind, and of this we had not half enough.
We children often used to ask this loving mother for another slice of bread, and she, with tears in her eyes, was compelled to say she had no more to give.
As the great war proceeded the condition of the family got worse. My sister and I went to bed early on Saturday nights so that my mother might be able to wash and mend our clothes, and we have them clean and tidy for the Sunday. We had no change of clothes in those days. This work kept my mother up nearly all the Saturday night, but she would be up early on the Sunday morning to get our scanty breakfast ready in time for us to go to Sunday-school.
This was the only schooling I ever had!
From my earliest days, as soon as I could be, I was sent to Sunday-school to receive the teaching of the principles of religion and goodness. My father used to keep our little boots in the best state of repair he could. God alone knows or ever knew how my parents worked and wept and the sufferings and privations they had to undergo. I particularly refer to my mother. I have seen both faint through overwork and the lack of proper food.
I owe all I am and have to my saintly father and mother. It was they who taught me the first principles of righteousness.
CHAPTER II A WAGE EARNER
It was in the year 1855 when I had my first experience of real distress. On my father's return home from work one night he was stopped by a policeman who searched his bag and took from it five turnips, which he was taking home to make his children an evening meal. There was no bread in the house. His wife and children were waiting for him to come home, but he was not allowed to do so.