I opened the envelope. All
it contained was a check for ten dollars upon the Gold Exchange Bank
of New York. I shall remember that check as long as I live, and that
John Hancock signature of "J.C. Babcock, Cashier." It gave me the
first penny of revenue from capital--something that I had not worked
for with the sweat of my brow. "Eureka!" I cried. "Here's the goose
that lays the golden eggs."
It was the custom of our party to spend Sunday afternoons in the
woods. I kept the first check and showed it as we sat under the trees
in a favorite grove we had found near Wood's Run. The effect produced
upon my companions was overwhelming. None of them had imagined such an
investment possible. We resolved to save and to watch for the next
opportunity for investment in which all of us should share, and for
years afterward we divided our trifling investments and worked
together almost as partners.
Up to this time my circle of acquaintances had not enlarged much. Mrs.
Franciscus, wife of our freight agent, was very kind and on several
occasions asked me to her house in Pittsburgh. She often spoke of the
first time I rang the bell of the house in Third Street to deliver a
message from Mr. Scott. She asked me to come in; I bashfully declined
and it required coaxing upon her part to overcome my shyness.
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