The Boy of Battle Ford and the Man

CHAPTER IIIa

THE BOY OF BATTLE FORD 23 was ~Jllrning up, as it were, for water. Cnce in awhile when the family were sleeping or were out of the house, the sufferer crawled to the pail and filled himself full of water. The cry was at once raised that the sick would die, as he had drunk all the water he wanted while he had fever. 0::1 being asked why he would kill himself he would say, "I do ~ot think if will hurt me. If it does I can't help it. I had better die that way than to die for want of water ." Such rash action as the sufferer was supposed to have committed always brought health. Though it was expected that the violator of the foolish tradition would die soon, he never failed to recover even once in all my recollection. However it was a long time before the people could break loose from the tradition of the fathers and give the sick the gooa cold water they needed. 1 fear many poor sufferers died from want of water that their friends would gladly have .given them had they believed it was best for them. The truth is emphasized in such mistakes that it is not enough for one to think he is right but that he must be right to avoid serious consequences. A very good reason for not sending for the doctor was that it was a difficult matter to pay him for his services. But a better reason was that it would be a mere accident if he was found at home. And if he was not there, to undertake to hunt him up, in a territory thirty or forty miles in diameter, would be a very. discouraging undertaking, and if found and taken to the sick, the patient would most likely be well or dead. Many people died, doubtless, for want of medical treatment. But it has been so from the beginnin.g of sickness in the world, 1 suppose. It has always seemed to me a pity for life to be frittered away through ignorance. I believe everyon'e should make the very best use of his life possible. I have held this view from the time I was a little boy to the present, and I know I am right in this view. CHAPTER III. THERE was one SChO.Ol of three months duration taught in 1846, four miles from home, by a man named Blair. That schooL was the only one 1 ever heard of till I was ei,ght and two-thirds years old. Our family library consisted of an old Bible. printed in italic letters, with only one letter for the f's and s s. They were f's. It was so difficult for our family to read that it was not used much. The other piece of book in the library was a part of John A. Murrell's life. It was called "The Murder Book.'" Everybody wanted to read it to see what an awful rascal John A. Murrell was. I do not know what became of it. There was one whole Bible in our community. It belonged to Polly Hill. I remember that my mother borrowed it and read it in the monotone style a few Sundays . I think the people read and talked more of the Old Testament occurrences than of any of those of the New Testament except the crucifixion of Christ, and of his resurrection. Everyone that was in any way civil towards the word of God was acquainted with the case of the flood and the destruction of Sodom and the offering of Isaac and the case of Jacob and ESll when tlrinking. It was thought he intended to enlist in the Lord's service later, but he delayed that most iinportant act perhaps too long, doubtless thinking if he were a Christian he would not be. allowel to have his fun. The deceiver of souls made him think if he became a Christian he would be bowed· down in grief all his life. My mother said she heard him praying many times during his sickness, for the Lord tasave him, Sile indulged a faint hope of his salvation, but to. pe lost means so much that to the day. of her death she carried a burdened heart lest her own dear father was lost forever. She bore that unwelcome dre,.d for fifty-three years, which would have been...