But Andrew's father soon died, and his mother went with her children to live in her brother's home, where she spun flax to earn money. She was very fond of little Andrew and hoped some day to make a minister of him. With this in view she sent him to school where he learned reading, writing, and a little ciphering. But he cared so little for study that he made small advancement, and in fact never learned to spell well nor to write the English language with ease or even correctness.
He found great pleasure in hunting and in rough-and-tumble sports, excelling in running, jumping, and wrestling. Although not robust, he was wiry and energetic, and when a stronger boy threw him to the ground, he was so agile that he always managed to regain his feet.
As a school-boy Andrew was a bare-footed, freckle-faced lad, with slender frame, bright blue eyes, and reddish colored hair. Full of life and fun, he became known as "Mischievous Andy." Andy was brave and ready to champion the weaker and smaller boys, but sometimes he became overbearing and at other times his quick temper got him into trouble. One day his companions, wishing to play a practical joke upon him, secretly overloaded a gun, and dared Andy to shoot it. The fearless little fellow, seizing the gun, shot it off, and was kicked violently upon his back. But quickly jumping up, his eyes blazing with anger, he shouted, "If any of you boys laugh, I'll kill him." The boys did not laugh.
A Spinning Wheel.
While he was yet a lad the Revolution broke out, and there was severe fighting between the Americans and the British near his home. His love of action, which up to that time had expressed itself in out-of-door sports, now took a more serious turn. War became a passion with him, and from this time he could not visit the local blacksmith's shop without hammering into shape some form of weapon. Once while fiercely cutting weeds with a scythe he was heard repeating these words: "Oh, if I were a man, how I would sweep down the British with my grass blade!"
In the course of a few years young "Andy" had real British soldiers to fight; for he was only thirteen when he was made a prisoner of war. One day soon after his capture, a British officer ordered him to clean his muddy boots. The fiery youth flashed back: "Sir, I am not your slave. I am your prisoner, and as such I refuse to do the work of a slave." Incensed at this reply, the brutal officer struck the boy a cruel blow with his sword. Andrew saved himself from the brunt of the blow, but received two severe wounds, the scars and the bitter memory of which he carried through life.
These indignities were but a beginning. He was transferred to the prison pen about Camden jail, some forty miles away, where without shelter and almost without food, he suffered from heartless exposure. In a weak and half-starved condition, his wounds yet unhealed, he fell a victim to small-pox. Hearing of his wretched plight, Andrew's mother secured his release and took him home with her. Andrew struggled for months with a severe illness. Before he had entirely recovered, his mother died leaving him quite alone in the world.
But these hardships passed, and some years later Andrew decided to become a lawyer. After studying law for a while, at twenty-one he crossed the mountains with an emigrant party into the backwoods region of Tennessee. Now grown to manhood, he was six feet and one inch tall, slender, straight, and graceful, with a long slim face and thick hair falling over a forehead beneath which looked out piercing blue eyes.
When he reached Nashville, the destination of his party, his experience was, in a large measure, the same as that of Daniel Boone in the wilds of Kentucky. When the women of the settlement went out to pick berries, and when the men hoed corn in the clearings, some of the settlers, gun in hand, with watchful eyes stood guard against attack from stealthy Indians.