I found lots of papers lying around⁠—some cheap novels, Police Gazette s, etc. ⁠—and I read them all, everything I could get hold of. I saw my father only at night, and occasionally we would take a walk then for an hour.

One evening as we were returning from our walk, we came upon a man whose team of horses was stalled in a mud hole. He was beating the horses, and cursing them with the most fearful oaths. I stopped still in my tracks and began praying for him. Father looked back, saw me standing still, and said: “What are you doing, John, listening to that mule skinner swear?”

I finished my prayer and caught up with him.

“You will learn to swear soon enough, John, without stopping to listen to these teamsters,” he said a little severely.