Old John Brown, the man whose soul is marching onHawkins, Walter
History
Old John Brown, the man whose soul is marching on
Hawkins, Walter
Abolitionists -- United States -- Biography; Brown, John, 1800-1859
For over thirty years did this man both 'hope and quietly wait for the
salvation of the Lord' to come for the slaves of his land. The
interval is full of interest for those who care to watch the
development of a life-purpose. Only for three, or four years was he
destined to figure in the eyes of the world. Those years, as we shall
hereafter see, were crowded with events; but for a generation he felt
an abiding conviction of impending destiny.
There is something fateful about the constant indications of this
spirit of readiness. His commercial pursuits were multifarious, but
none of them was greatly successful. At Hudson, Ohio, till 1825, and
afterwards at Richmond, Pennsylvania, he was tanner, land-surveyor, and
part of the time postmaster. He became skilful at his father's
business of tanning, but is a typical Yankee in the facility with which
he turns his hand to anything.
From 1835 to 1839 he was at Franklin, Ohio, where we find him adding to
his former occupations the breeding of horses, and also dabbling in
land speculation, with the result that he became bankrupt. But when he
failed in business he set to work to pay his debts in full. His death
found him still striving to achieve that end. He was regarded as
whimsical and stubborn, yet through years of struggle, endeavour, and
even failure he was known as trusty and honourable.
From 1841 to 1846 he lived at Richfield, Ohio, where he took to
shepherding and wool-dealing, which he continued in 1849 at
Springfield, Massachusetts. He seems to have developed much capacity
for wool-testing. When he came to England with a cargo of wool, some
English dealers sought to practise a fraudulent joke upon his quick
fingers. They stripped a poodle of the best of his fleece and handed
it to the oracular Yankee with the inquiry, 'What would you do with
that wool?' But there was wisdom in him down to the finger-ends, for
he rolled it there, and in a moment handed it back with the confounding
retort, 'Gentlemen, if you have any machinery in England for working up
dog's hair I would advise you to put this into it.'
Had he known how to sell wool as well as he knew how to test it; had he
known how to sell his sheep as well as he knew hundreds of sheep faces
apart, and like a diviner could interpret their inarticulate language;
had he been as apt upon the market as he was upon the farm, he might
have made money. As it was, there was never more than enough for the
wants of a severely plain household life.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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