Dave Ranney | Page 2

time to Irish Row, and I
wondered what would happen when I went to play with the old crowd.
They said, "Go and stay with the Irish." I did not know what to do. I
would not fight my old comrades, so I was neutral and fought with
neither.
We had a good many ring battles in those days, and many's the fight we
had without gloves, and many's the black eye I got, and also gave a few.
I believe nothing does a boy or girl so much good as lots of play in the
open air. I never had a serious sickness in my life except the measles,
and that was easy, for I was up before the doctor said I ought to get out
of bed. Those were happy days, and little did I think then that I would

become the hard man I turned out to be.
I had a good Christian mother, one who loved her boy and thought
there was nothing too good for him, and I could always jolly her into
getting me anything I wanted. God bless the mothers! How true the
saying is, "A boy's best friend is his mother." My father I won't say so
much about. He was a rough man who loved his cups, and died, as you
might say, a young man through his own waywardness. I did love my
mother, and would give anything now to have her here with me as I am
writing this story. She has gone to heaven, and I was the means of
sending her to an early grave through my wrong-doings. She did not
live to see her boy saved. Many's the time I would promise her to lead a
different life, and I meant it too, but after all I could not give up my evil
ways.
THE FIRST TASTE FOR DRINK
I remember when I first acquired the taste for drink. My grandfather
lived with us, and he liked his mixed ale and would send me for a pint
two or three times a day. In those days the beer was weighed so many
pounds to the quart. Every time I went for the beer I used to take a
swallow before I came back, and sometimes two, and after a while I
really began to enjoy it. Do you know, I was laying the foundation right
there and then for being what I turned out to be--a drunkard. I
remember one time--yes, lots of times--that I was under the influence
of the vile stuff when I was not more than ten years of age.
I received a public school education. My school-days were grand good
days. I had all the sport that comes to any boy going to school. I would
rather play ball than go home to dinner. In those days the game was
different from what it is at the present time. I was up in all athletic
sports when I was a boy. I could jump three quick jumps and go
twenty-eight and a half feet; that was considered great for a schoolboy.
There was one game I really did enjoy; the name of it was "How many
miles?" It is played something like this: You choose sides, and it
doesn't matter how many there are on a side. Of course each side would
be eager to get the quickest and fastest runner on their side. How I did

like that game! We then tossed to see who would be the outs and who
would chase the outs, and many's the mile we boys would run. We
would be late for school and would be kept in after three o'clock; that
would break my heart, but I would forget all about it the next day and
do the same thing again.
Our teacher, J. W. Wakeman--God bless him!--is living yet, and I hope
he will live a good many years more. A boy doesn't always like his
teacher, and I was no exception; I did not like him very much. He gave
me more whippings than any other boy in the school. All the learning I
received was, you might say, pounded into me. He used to say to me,
"David, why don't you be good and study your lessons? There is the
making of a man in you, but if you don't study you will be fit for
nothing else than the pick and shovel." How those words rang in my
ears many a time in after years when they came true, when I had to use
the pick and shovel! I am not saying anything against that sort of labor;
it has its place. We must fill in somewhere, in some groove, but that
was not mine.
How I did enjoy in after years,