BYRON E. JOHNSON

It has been my misfortune, or fortune, to be reared practically in the arms of poverty. I have spent the most of my days on a little farm in southwest Arkansas, the family consisting of six children and father and mother, living in an old log house on the farm. Just at the time when we were getting to where we could make a crop without buying everything on time, we lost about all we had on account of the ill health of my mother.

I was eighteen years of age when I finished the seventh grade. I thought then that I had enough education for any ordinary man. I had finished geography in the high school, I knew United States history fairly well, and had been through fractions in arithmetic; so I thought I was prepared for life. Besides having enough education, as I supposed, mother’s health was very bad; so I decided that it was time for me to stop fooling with school and go to work.

The next school term came around and mother’s health was no better; so as I had to stay at home, I decided to attend school. Three days after school was out, mother died. “Now as mother is gone 226 and I have finished one grade more than is necessary, I must get out and make something to replace our loss,” was about as high a thought as ever entered my mind.

Along in the summer I went to New Mexico. There were several children where I stayed, and when they started to school, the thoughts of the dear old school days came to me, and I wished that I were in school. As soon as I could get money enough, I returned home and entered school. Although I had learned enough to begin to realize my ignorance, I was still determined to make something to replace our loss. With this in view, I went to Texas, befor............