Secrets of fate unlocked; or, From possibility to reality

Dedication

To the late Mrs. Ella Bartling Gregg, whose unswerving faith in God, atfectionate fidelity to her husband, cheerfulness while enduring many afflictions, and whose daily life was an inspiration to the author; to her whose bright intellect and encouraging words helped to open this book, to frame these chapters, and who, had life been spared, would have written these pages with her own hand ; to the precious memory of her who, though counted dead, yet speaketh, this book is most affectionately dedicated.

In addition, I desire to express my sincere gratitude to my friends who so freely and so promptly gave their financial support, Messrs. A. L. Johnson, J. L. Tidball, P. L. Knight, and others, of Crete, Nebraska. Also Messrs. S. E. Hart, of Lincoln, and B. L. Castor, of Wilber.

And, finally, I shall ever hold in fond remembrance the persons who rendered that indispensable assistance to one who cannot see to do his own writing and preparing of copy. Chief among these are Elder E. D. Aller, as the amanuensis, and Rev. M. Fulcomer, who had the task of editing nearly all these pages.

Contents

PRELIMINARIES page

Dedication, 3

Preface, 5

Preface

This humble volume is offered for your careful perusal and personal benefit by Willian H. Gregg, who was born blind and left, when very young, to depend upon his own energy. His early purpose to support and educate himself, to develop the remaining faculties to the highest degree, and to explode the idea that the blind are doomed to grind a hand organ and passively submit to the inexorable decrees of fate, was a source of admiration and inspiration to me, and created in my heart an ever increasing desire to get near to the manly little lad. On the 27th of July, 1881, after conducting his grandfather's funeral, the opportunity came, and our two hearts melted into one. Since that day we have been intimate associates, and have driven thousands of miles together over the prairies of Nebraska, in religious work, with mutual profit and pleasure. I therefore deem it to be both a privilege and an honor to be permitted to pay this tribute to the author.

His high ideal of true manhood, his steady aim to be eyes to the blind, ears to the deaf, feet to the lame, and courage to the faltering, gave early promise of a fruitful life. His manly bearing, determined will, sunny nature, and surprising capabilities forced recognition and gave him a place among men of affairs.

When a mere boy he made one of his characteristic

O PREFACE

speeches at a Sunday school convention just at noon. A motion prevailed that we would neither adjourn nor eat nor drink until a sufficient sum was raised to purchase a raised print Bible for the last speaker. The money was obtained, Mr. Gregg thanked the givers, an excellent basket dinner was served on time, irH the sun shone warmer and brighter.

At the next convention Mr. Gregg read a part of the third chapter of John, in his new Bible, and every eye was suffused with tears.

After his graduation from the Nebraska Institute for the Blind, he still failed to receive the encouragement due one who had struggled so hard to fit himself for work. But each succeeding trial seemed like a refining fire to purify his nature, and every discouragement a friendly spur to urge him on to final success, thus strengthening his purpose, ennobling his character, and verifying the proverb that "He who does his best shall never cease to improve."

His strong faith in the possible was seen when, without money, he undertook to publish his second book; and his home people's faith in the man is manifested in this completed volume.

The main object of this book is to show that "There is no misfortune which a resolute will may not transform into an advantage; that everybody has a work to do, and cannot be excused from the task; that those in midnight darkness may both 'enjoy and impart sunshine.

PREFACE 7

good cheer, and overcoming courage; that the best way to aid the unfortunate is to give them plenty of encouragement and something profitable to do; that application is the path from lower opportunity to higher; that he who toils on the border of possibility shall cross the border to still greater possibilities and convert them into realities, and that anything short of one's very best endeavors is not worthy of him.

E. D. Aller.

Introduction

It will be well for those who read this book to know something of the motives and incentives which have prompted me to dictate its pages. It was my misfortune to be born blind, and so my whole life has been spent in the realm of darkness. Yet it has been my privilege to travel a great deal over the country, and my opportunities for observation have been somewhat extensive. I have found, as a result of my observations, a great lack of practical experimental knowledge, due largely to the fact that students in the main rely almost altogether on text-books for their information, and pay little regard to the common affairs of nature and everyday life. While with all my heart I favor the use of text-books and would urge students to the most careful study of their contents, yet I plead for a more general personal study of the inexhaustible book of nature and the lives of the great characters who have lived and blessed the world.

The misfortunes of some have proved a means of great blessing to others. It is my desire to take advantage of my unfortunate condition and use it as a means placed within my power by an all-wise Providence to bestow a blessing on the rising generation. It is with this object in view that these pages are now written. The hope that I may stimulate the young people to a more deterlO INTRODUCTION

mined effort to follow in the footsteps of their predecessors with honor and credit, and awaken in the hearts of parents and instructors a more substantial interest in behalf of their children and those committed to their care, actuates me in the preparation of this work. Therefore I send forth this little volume with a desire, not to get wealth and fame, though these may be thought of ever so great importance ; neither do I claim for myself knowledge superior, nor indeed equal to many of those whose patronage and interest I hope to gain ; nor do I even indulge in the hope that I shall be able to solve the mighty problems of education — a work which the combined minds of all the ages have not been able to perform ; but, that I may place before my readers the lessons that, notwithstanding my misfortune, I have learned from personal experience and careful study of the practical and ordinary affairs of life. I submit these pages with the great object in view of advancing the welfare and increasing the happiness of mankind. I hope by this means to show how the number of the apparently helpless may be noticeably decreased, and the misgivings, otherwise called prejudices, against the capabilities of unfortunate persons materially lessened, and how true benevolence, through brotherly kindness, may become both a pleasure and a gain to you instead of a burden, by the advantages of education and encouragement. For it is through these means that the most unfortunate may become self-sustaining, so relieving them from the hu-

INTRODUCTION 1 1

miliation of being paupers, and you from the necessity of supporting them as such. In delineating this subject I have endeavored to use such illustrations as seem to be best calculated to present, in a forcible manner, the difficulties and disadvantages under which the blind and the otherwise afflicted are obliged to labor.

While I shall use the blind chiefly as an example, because that is the class to which I belong, and I can speak from experience, yet it is not my intention to in any way slight other unfortunate people, for there are other afflictions which I consider equally great, if not greater,

I delivered an address before the high school at Lincoln, Neb,, February ii, 1898. Two hours later a young man came to the office of Superintendent J. F, Saylor with an extra donation. He explained that, before hearing the lecture, he had entirely given up the idea of completing his course of study, for want of confidence in his ability and the lack of funds. But if, under the circumstances, I could accomplish so much and analyze so clearly how I did it, he with all his faculties, a strong physique, and an earnest desire to go ahead, ought to expel the word "can't" from his vocabulary. And that from this inspiration he had resolved to fight his way to the dome of the University, For some time after parents stopped me on the streets and heartily thanked me for the address, as that was all their children could talk about for a week, and they knew it was doing them good. This was one influence which incited me to complete this work.

12 INTRODUCTION

In this world of ours it requires all kinds of warning, persuasion, enticement, and encouragement to spur both young and old to a sense of their duty. If a person has only one talent, and does not use it, he is not only guilty of a grievous sin,- but his life is worse than nothing. Being born blind, together with other disadvantages with which I have been obliged to cope, has given me much experience out of the ordinary. Now I have tried to utilize this experience in these pages, by plainly showing how, one after another, each doubt has been solved, each difficulty settled, each obstacle overcome, a clear knowledge of the situation acquired, and the possible made real in the struggle of my own 'poor life. Thus, peradventure, it may be my exalted privilege some day to know that in this way I have assisted some one to unkink the snarls in his own trials, thereby deriving the benefit designed by the author.

Hoping that this volume may prove profitable, I humbly submit it for your perusal.

William Henry Gregg.

When I consider how my light is spent

Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,

And that one talent which is death to hide

Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent

To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest He returning chide, "Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?" I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent

That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need Either man'a work or his own gifts. Who best Bear his inild yoke, they serve him best. His state

Is kingly: thousands at his bidding speed,

And oost o'er land and ocean without rest; The> also servt who only stand and wait."

—Milton^

Chapter I

I was born in Winona county, Minnesota, September 4, 1867, and without sight. When I was one year of age my parents moved to Darke county, Ohio, near the home of my Grandfather Gregg. Of course they took me along. About the first thing I can remember is the difference between cow-butter and apple-butter, as grandmother would term it, when she asked me what I wanted on my bread. I remember of spending many pleasant hours in the woods where my father went to hew railroad ties, and would take me along. I would build all kinds of houses, or what I thought were houses, with the hewings, and climb logs and little trees. I remember when grandfather used to take me home on his back, then naturally to the old sugar camp near by, and fill me up with maple sap. As I write I still imagine that I can hear the evaporator boiling and making music for the child mind. I have not forgotten how I used to stick my hand in the cooling molasses and comb my hair with my fingers. One evening my mother left me alone for a short time, and grandmother's cow, "Black," came prancing around the house with her big bell ringing and scared me, as the saying is, "out of a year's growth." I remember well of sitting for hours of evenings and listening to the whip-poor-will's wierd and mournful song. When I was six years of age my parents and I once more took up our abode in Winona county, Minnesota. I shall never forget the rippling of the brooks, how musical they were to my childish ears. How we used to roam through the woods gathering berries and nuts in their season, and what an experience it was to step barefooted or to sit down in a yellow jacket's nest. One thing I never shall forget: immediately in front of our house were two tall balm-of-gilead trees. One day I climbed up into the fork of one and something, I do not know what, took possession of me and caused me to climb to the very top, more than seventy-five feet high. A lady was visiting my mother. They missed me and came out and called. I replied "I am up here." My mother gently told me to come down, which I did without accident. There was a hickory tree near by, and I never shall forget one of its sprouts. It really did not taste as good as the nuts. One thing certain, I never climbed the balm-of-gilead any more.

This being a timbered country, the fields were fenced and the cattle were allowed to roam at will. So each cow, or leader, carried a bell, loosely strapped on her neck. I used to enjoy playing cow. I whiled away many a happy hour running here and there with a home-made bell tied around my neck. It was an old can with a bolt-tap swung in it for a clapper.

In those days matches were costly and poor people could hardly afford to buy them. So mother used to have me cut splinters to light the lamps from the stove. This is how I first learned to count.

I shall always remember the long winter evenings, when I helped father shell corn by hand to take to the mill; and when the neighbors used to come in, sit around the old cook stove, pop corn, and tell fascinating yarns. Some of those stories would make my hair stand on end, as they were often incidents of actual occurrence concerning the depredations of Indians, timber wolves, wild cats and bears, which were then numerous in that region.

Not far from our home a mother sent her twelve-yearold daughter two miles to town for some coffee. She failed to return at the proper time, and a fruitless search was kept up all night. In the morning all that could be found was scattered coffee, pieces of bloody clothing, and traces of wolves.

When I first heard of Indians I thought they were monsters of terror. You may imagine my feelings when one day mother said, "There come, the Indians." I crept under the bed to the remotest corner. There were five of them, two men and three women. It was a long time before our dusky visitors could induce me to leave my hiding place. Then I ran out of the house and pulled for the barn as though Lucifer were after me. There was a very large oak tree, half way to the barn, around which the path wound. Ordinarily I would have followed the path. But in my flight I tried to go straight through the tree and ingloriously failed. One of the Indian men picked me up, saying: "Big Indian no hurt." This frightened me worse than ever, and he had to put me down. He finally persuaded me to come to him, and presented me with a little bead cap.

My father taught me early in life to work. One evening while carrying in wood I took the lazy man's course, by crossing a strip of glaring ice instead of going around. I slipped and fell, with the wood in my arms, slightly dislocating my right shoulder. We were thirty-five miles from any doctor, and my parents seemed to think it was only a sprain. So they bathed it freely with liniment and let it go with that. But I regret to say that it proved to be permanent in its effects, and my right arm is partially useless for life. Bear in mind, however, the accident could not be attributed to my blindness, as it might have occurred to any one in the same way. My father used to tell others that in childhood I got along almost as well as any one who could see, and that sometimes, when I was real mischievous, it seemed to him as though I had four eyes. As these reminiscences are given for the purpose of giving you an idea of blindness in childhood, I will deviate from my narra? tive a little.

The absence of sight causes peculiar ideas to creep into the mind when one begins to form conceptions of things. When I first heard of the sun I thought it was a very large lamp, hung in the air, but I could not imagine what helH it up. When I first heard of the moon and stars I wondered what they were; and my mind worked so constantly on this thought that one night I dreamed I had them in my hands. I thought the moon was like a very large rolling-pin and the stars were like ax-handles fastened to the end of the moon, in bunches diverging outward into space. I wondered what they meant when they spoke of the blue sky. The sky seemed to me to be a high deck overhead. I thought the clouds were great vessels placed on the decks and filled with water. I imagined thunder was some heavy object rolled over the floor of my ideal sky, tipping these vessels and causing it to rain. I tried in vain to form some idea of lightning and of light. I wondered why it was that other people could discern what and where objects were at a distance, and I must feel them to know.

When I first heard of corn fodder I thought it was something that would bite.

I used to be very fond of dogs. While in my Minnesota home I had one I called Money. I trained him myself to fight for me, and to go after the cows at night. No matter where I went with him I never got lost, as he could take me home, avoiding all unsafe places.

Now for the first Christmas I remember much about. The reason why this day was especially riveted on my mind you will see later on. It was Christmas, 1873, cold

20 SF.CRETS OF FATE UNLOCKED

and snowy weather. Christmas eve we children and our parents went to bed at the same time, in the same room, where we lay and chatted, and mother taught us to repeat the verse beginning, "When I was a little boy I lived by myself." Father had two old-fashioned quail traps. They were made with the four sides tight, the same as boxes with slats nailed on the top. The ground was the fioor, on which they spread grain for bait. There was a door on each side, made to swing in, but not out. Father set these traps that Christmas day and caught sixty-two quail, and of course we had a feast fit for a king, but "did not go out into the hedges and highways and compel any to come in."

At ten minutes to four o'clock a.m. the eighth day of the following January, my dear mother was swept across the river of death. Now when memory bears me back to the bygone days my heart can fervently beat with only a faint remembrance of a mother's fond embrace, her good night kiss, her prayer, her parental precepts,— in short, a mother's boundless love. I can truly say that I have never begrudged any person his sight, but I have, with a sad heart, envied many a one his home and mother. So I conclude that my sorest affliction is not the absence of sight, for that I can replace, in a measure, as you will see further on, but the loss of a mother cannot be replaced. The inspiration of her love might have buoyed me to a much higher standard in life than I have yet been able to attain.

After her death my father, two brothers, and I came to Pleasant Hill, Neb., to rny Grandfather Gregg's again, as he had lately moved there. I remember something concerning our trip from Ohio to Minnesota, but was not old enough to think much about the motive power which carried us so swiftly across the country. But on our trip from Minnesota to Nebraska my mind began to seek for knowledge, and the engine was a wonderful thing to me. Through diffidence I too seldom asked questions and sought to find out everything I could for myself. So my first idea of the engine was peculiar. When I heard it puflf I thought it was a tall, square, heavy iron column, fastened at the bottom on hinges to something that gripped the rails. I thought the top of it was attached to the cars by chains and that by some propelling power, I knew not what, it was swung backward to slack the chains and forward to jerk the cars along by its weight. On arriving in Nebraska, January 23, 1874, we left the cars at Crete, and staged it to Pleasant Hill, a distance of nine miles. Young as I was, I noticed the difference in the country. Nebraska was then all prairie except along the streams, and I had been accustomed to a timber country. My grandparents lived on a little creek in a dugout in the hillside, sixteen by twenty, walled up with logs, with nine occupants after we arrived. The best of all, it had an old-fashioned fireplace in the back end of it. They had some timber on their farm, which was of double interest, making it homelike to me ind affording fuel. One day I cut a twelveinch log in. two with a hatchet. This was my first experience in wood-chopping. I still remember how rough and rag^d the ends looked after I had finished. The first new experience to me occurred the following July, when Nebraska was visited with three days of hot winds. As matr.y of my readers know nothing of this phenomenon in nature, I will explain: Go where you will the temperature remains about the same, with scorching gust5 of wind, reminding one from the timber country of the heat blown from the acres of burning brush and logs in the clearing. These winds sometimes destroy thousands t)f acres of the most promising crops in a day, and man zrtid beast seek in vain for a comfortable place. As the land of Nebraska is being cultivated, and trees are grown, these winds become less frequent and less severe. In those days people bound their small grain by hand, and these hot winds left the straw in such a condition that the grain was cut at night that season.

August 25, 1874, my father and I returned to Faribault, Minn., where I entered the State Institution for the Biind about the middle of September. While there I took a hand in all the pleasures and m'schief that boys cculd think of. I especially delighted in lishing and boat riding on the lakes and river, also coasting. The school building stands a little over a quarter of a mile from Straight river (which is, however, something like zigzag lightning). About five rods from the building is the top of a bluff which runs down with a steep slope toward the river, then a strip of sloping prairie about eighty rods across, then straight down about five feet to the water's edge. Filled with a spirit of adventure, boy-like, it occurred to me that this would make a good coasting hill, so I made the break with satisfactory results. We swept down the bluff, across the prairie, and over the river bank, with such force that, turning on the ice down the river, our momentum sped us on some eighty rods further, to the rapids and the spring.

It would not be out of place to mention that one day one of the boys was running a little faster than he realized and cleverly plunged into the center of the spring, sled and all, in the water up to his chin. Consequently he had a fine winter bath, and we had a good laugh at his expense.

I spent the summer of 1877 in Janesville, Minn. The evening of July 3 a boy and I took a piece of inch gaspipe, three feet long, plugged in one end with iron, and filled it within four inches of the top with powder. We then filled the remaining four inches with paper and a fuse. Before sunrise the next morning we fastened it in a rail fence and a pile of cord wood in the edge of town. I touched it off and betook myself for other quarters. It aroused the town from their slumbers and strewed wood and rails for some distance around. So you see I did not take a back seat for any of the boys in my endeavors to prove my patriotism.

In September, 1877, I returned alone to Nebraska. I paid my fare with money I had earned selHng garden vegetables that summer in Janesville. I left Janesville in the evening and arrived in Council Bluffs, Iowa, at 9 :30 next morning, without any unusual occurrences. On account of high water it was necessary for me to lay over until 4:15 p.m. and to pursue my journey by way of Plattsmouth, Neb. Here, while waiting for my train, is where I first learned to keep on my guard, and that people were not always what they seemed to be. I heard for the first time the booming of the artillery of life's battle. The fact that I had a fierce battle to fight from that time on began to dawn upon me. The day was lonesome, and any companionship was a relief. After dinner a young man sat down by me in the depot and opened a conversation. He finally asked if I did not wish to accompany him to town. I gladly consented to go. We had not gone far until he began to tell me of his intimate acquaintance with railroad conductors west of the river. He said if I would pay his fare to Red Oak, Iowa, he would see that I should have the rest of my journey free. This he could not persuade me to do. Having another scheme in view, this failure did not discourage him. So we continued our onward march harmoniously. When we reached the heart of the city he told me we were at a ticket office, and if I would give him the money he would buy my ticket for me. I gave him two dollars, but by that time we had gotten past the ticket office. He then proposed that we wait until we should get back to the depot. Not dreaming of any foul play, I consented. He proposed to return to the station at once, which we did. After arriving there he went to buy my ticket but did not return. A brigade of about thirty men and boys lined up in a searching party. A merchant's son happened to be in the lead and discovered the young man in his father's store. The youth stepped in, collared my friend, and the party brought him back to me, but as he was not marked "glass" they did not handle him with care. My money was all refunded with three dollars added, and I went on my way rejoicing, richer instead of poorer, and somewhat wiser for the experience. A free ticket was given me from Council Bluffs to Crete, and I arrived at my grandfather's place the following day, without any further encroachment on my faith in humanity.

Once more reunited with my two brothers, after three years' absence among strangers, the reader may correctly conclude this to be one of the brightest spots in my childhood recollections. For several years I made my home there. In July, 1881, grandfather died, which was another sad blow to me, as he took the place of my father, who was single and a wanderer and could not make me a home. Grandmother only was left, but she in her infirmity did the best she could.

When a boy I derived much pleasure from horseback riding, which I often indulged in. I kept the road by hearing the horse's feet strike the road or the grass.

One evening I took an old lady home from church because it was too dark for her to find the way. I have heard her relate this incident and laugh heartily over it frequently. So you see I sometimes take advantage of the lack of sight to act the part of the good Samaritan.

One night three young men and myself were taking a ride on "shank's horses." Some one wondered what time it was. I liappened to be the only one of the party having a watch. While acquainting myself with the time the others instinctively lit matches to see. Before they could furnish a light I gave them the desired information. They saw the joke at once, and the next day I had candy and peanuts for sale. You may think before I get through that I am a night-hawk. But here is another night event. It was cloudy and dark as pitch. A wagon load of us were on our way home from a political barbecue at Friend, Neb., a distance of fifteen miles. The horses had made a certain and correct turn east, the driver being unconscious of the change made in the direction. The night was very calm, and he had no way of knowing east from west. He soon stopped, thinking we had passed the turning point and were still going south. The entire party, eleven in number, agreed with him excepting myself. Here I had the advantage of them, as the night was the same as day to me. I knew that we had made the turn all right, and informed them of that fact. I explained further that in five minutes more we would cross a certain culvert. After some parleying my opinion prevailed, and the horses continued their onward tread along their own chosen course. The httle culvert soon proved the correctness of my judgment.