Recollections of a Runaway Boy, 1827-1903
James Owens
eBook
This personal memoir volume was published in1903.Excerpts from the Introduction:This is the life story of a man who, in the seventy- six years he has traveled about the world, has proven the old saying that truth is stranger than fiction. Un- like the novelist, who draws upon a vivid imagination for his tales of adventure, the hero of this story has but to draw upon his memory of events he has seen — in most of which he has been an actor. The events herein recorded are mostly incidents jotted down in leisure moments the past few, years for the amusement of children and grandchildren, and they may also find much to instruct them in the ways of the world fifty, and even seventy years ago. Ireland was my birthplace, and the date was April lo, 1827. That was in County Derry, near Curran. My father's people were of Welsh stock, and my mother Scotch, though both were born in Ireland. Shortly after my arrival in the family my parents moved to Entrem, where father took charge of John McChesney's Blichgreen. I was my father's name- sake and he was very fond of me. The first incident I can remember was one day I was sitting on his knee. He was smoking, and ashes fell from his pipe and burned my little body. He was sorely grieved, and threw away his pipe, declaring he would never smoke again. And he never did. That was an incident that showed the strength of his character. When he took a line of action he kept to it to the end, and I believe that that strength of char- acter was my chief inheritance, and in fact it was my only inheritance, except life and health, for almost from the first I made my own way in the world. A little incident, wrong though it was, or would be for one who had reached years of discretion, occurred when I was about four years old, and it shows that, like my father, I went through with whatever I undertook. I took a fancy to a pigeon belonging to a neighbor named Brown, and I caught it and took it home. Mother did not know whose it was, and allowed me to keep it, thinking it was only a stray bird. But one day a little later, Mr. Brown was passing and saw the bird. He told my mother, who compelled me to'carry the pigeon back, liberally using a willow switch on my back and legs until we met a neighbor woman, Mrs. McChes- ney, whose pleading in my behalf saved me further pun- ishment. The following Sunday, while my father and mother and the Browns were at church, I went to the Brown home, got the pigeon again, brought it home, killed it and hid it under a stone pile. It was missed of course, and they blamed me for having taken it. Mother often questioned me, but I never would admit that I knew anything about its disappearance. Whenever I saw Mr. Brown, I would imagine that he was thinking about that pigeon, but I was too stub- born to ever admit the crime and ask forgiveness. I felt that the whipping I got for taking the bird waspunishment enough for both offenses, and really the whipping was the motive for the second crime, and I am not a believer in the old adage, "Spare the rod and spoil the child," for many a boy has been spoiled by too lib- eral application of the rod.