to repay the twenty pounds so generously lent to us by
her friend Mrs. Henderson. That was a day we cele-
brated. The Carnegie family was free from debt. Oh,
the happiness of that day! The debt was, indeed, dis-
charged, but the debt of gratitude remains that never
can be paid. Old Mrs. Henderson lives to-day. I go to
her house as to a shrine, to see her upon my visits to
Dunfermline; and whatever happens she can never be
forgotten. [As I read these lines, written some years ago,
I moan, "Gone, gone with the others!" Peace to the
ashes of a dear, good, noble friend of my mother's.]

The incident in my messenger life which at once
lifted me to the seventh heaven, occurred one Saturday
evening when Colonel Glass was paying the boys their
month's wages. We stood in a row before the counter,
and Mr. Glass paid each one in turn. I was at the head
and reached out my hand for the first eleven and a
quarter dollars as they were pushed out by Mr. Glass.
To my surprise he pushed them past me and paid the
next boy. I thought it was a mistake, for I had hereto-
fore been paid first, but it followed in turn with each of
the other boys. My heart began to sink within me. Dis-
grace seemed coming. What had I done or not done? I
was about to be told that there was no more work for
me. I was to disgrace the family. That was the keen-
est pang of all. When all had been paid and the boys
were gone, Mr. Glass took me behind the counter and
said that I was worth more than the other boys, and
he had resolved to pay me thirteen and a half dollars
a month.

My head swam; I doubted whether I had heard him cor-
rectly. He counted out the money. I don't know whether
I thanked him; I don't believe I did. I took it and made
one bound for the door and scarcely stopped until I got

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