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Updated: May 23, 2025
I bantered every one I met to trade horses, but no one seemed to take a particular fancy to my animal. I kept up this system of auctioneering and selling polish till into the summer, and had succeeded in getting a trunk full of goods, and began to feel that I was in a fair way to make money rapidly. One day I received a letter from Mr. Keefer saying he must have help from some source.
Keefer and my half-sisters greatly agitated, and my mother crying, as Albert and Mr. S. approached them, both wondering at the unusual excitement. "Where is Perry? What has happened to Perry? Is he dead, or only hurt?" These inquiries were made hurriedly, and when informed that nothing had happened they asked why he had telegraphed for a stretcher. "Stretcher," said Albert, "you're crazy!
Keefer a whirl down the boulevard, behind a handsome pair of chestnut-sorrel horses which I had dealt for a few days before. As we went dashing along at a lively rate he hung to his hat with one hand and to the buggy with the other, and asked what such a team cost me. When I answered his question, he said: "That team is worth more than all the horses we ever had on our farm at any one time.
I answered: "I am not trading for territory, Brother Long. I am selling it." About this time the greater portion of Brother Long's family appeared on the scene, and were re-inforced by my mother in their entreaties to me to trade back. She said it was too bad for Brother Long, and I must do it. Mr. Keefer said: "It did beat the d l!"
Keefer said "it did beat the devil." That night we reviewed the past eighteen years, with much interest. We recalled the many ups and downs I had met with; and my parents congratulated me, not only on the pluck and energy I had persistently shown, but also for being able to stand prosperity. Mr. Keefer repeated what I had often heard him say years before, that "he knew I'd make it win some day."
I called on him, and he convinced me that with a stock of twenty-five hundred dollars, I could make money fast. I asked how about one thousand dollars' worth. He said it wouldn't pay with so small a stock, and said I could pay one thousand dollars down, and give a bond for the other fifteen hundred dollars. I told him about Mr. Keefer, and he very soon ascertained that his bond would be good.
More especially as the neighborhood contained those who took it upon themselves to regulate their neighbors' domestic affairs in preference to their own. Consequently, in a few years, Mr. Keefer was severely criticised for not compelling me to do more work on the farm, and for the interest he took in schooling me.
And until the day of his death, which occurred on the 10th of July, 1887, he was always the same. This tribute is due him from one who reveres his memory. He had a family of children by his former wife, the youngest being a year or two older than myself. Two daughters were born of this marriage. A mixed family like the Keefer household naturally occasioned more or less contention.
Keefer and I were in the barn, he remarked, that he would like to know who tore that fence down. I then acknowledged to him that I knew who did it, and if he would agree to buy me a "fiddle," I would tell him all about it. He had for years refused to allow the "noisy thing in the house," as he expressed it, but thinking to clear up the mystery, he agreed, and I made a frank confession.
I explained to her that, in order to speculate, it was necessary to keep re-investing and turning my money often. Mr. Keefer said I was right, but advised me to be very careful, now that I had quite a nice start from simply nothing. After selling out, I one day called on the day telegraph operator, Will Witmer, and while sitting in his office, asked him to explain the mysteries of telegraphy.
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