A few years ago Ivan Mestrovic crossed the Atlantic with his wonderful people of wood and stone, and in America thousands have gazed on his work and admired and wondered how one man, scarcely yet in middle life, could have done so much work and all of such high quality. In 1924 a Mestrovic exhibition was held at the Brooklyn Museum. The triumphs the sculptor scored at Rome were repeated at Brooklyn. It is safe to say that no sculptor of modern times has won greater laurels than Mestrovic and no one can foretell what wonderful things this Serbian genius may yet accomplish. Away in the far-off hills of Serbia, the peasants still tend their flocks of sheep on the rugged hillsides, and at night, when the day’s work is over, they still gather around the fireside and tell thrilling tales of Serbian heroes, but of one thing we may be sure: they have added a new hero to their list. They tell of a peasant boy who, not so many years ago, watched his father’s sheep and dreamed of what he would like to do and of how he has made his dreams come true. CHAPTER XII THE BOY WHOSE DIFFICULTIES MADE HIM DETERMINED TO SUCCEED Among the flood of European immigrants that came to America in the early seventies of last century, was a family from Alsace-Lorraine, named Kindleberger. There were several small children in the family and they were all well used to hardship for they had never known anything but poverty. After three or four years of changing around the family finally settled in West Carrollton, Ohio, where the father obtained work in the paper-mills. The third in the group of seven children was named Jacob and as soon as he was ten he was sent to work in the mills where he earned twenty-five cents a day. One week he would be on the day shift, and a day’s work meant thirteen long hours. The following week he worked on the night shift which lasted twelve hours. The mills were poorly ventilated, dark and cheerless, and if young Jacob ever lagged behind in his work his ears were soundly boxed or he was given a kick. Enormous quantities of rags were brought to the mills to go through the process which would make them into paper. At first Jacob’s work was to cut the buttons from the rags. This work had to be done very carefully. Not one button must be allowed to go through the machine, or paper would be ruined. Jacob was severely handicapped for doing this work because of his defective eyesight. His eyes were so poor that he could not easily distinguish buttons from rags, so he trained himself to work by touch. As swiftly as he could the half-blind boy toiled away, terrified lest he should allow buttons to get into the machine, but taking his punishment when it came, without whimpering. For a long time his wages remained at twenty-five cents per day, but even that small amount was sorely needed in the Kindleberger home, where there was a constant struggle against actual want.