Boyhood At Port Huron, Michigan - 9

Boyhood At Port Huron, Michigan - 9

An amusing incident of this period is told by Edison. "When I was a boy," he says, "the

Prince of Wales, the late King Edward, came to Canada (1860). Great preparations were

made at Sarnia, the Canadian town opposite Port Huron. About every boy, including

myself, went over to see the affair. The town was draped in flags most profusely, and

carpets were laid on the cross-walks for the prince to walk on. There were arches, etc. A

stand was built raised above the general level, where the prince was to be received by the

mayor. Seeing all these preparations, my idea of a prince was very high; but when he did

arrive I mistook the Duke of Newcastle for him, the duke being a fine-looking man. I

soon saw that I was mistaken: that the prince was a young stripling, and did not meet

expectations. Several of us expressed our belief that a prince wasn't much, after all, and

said that we were thoroughly disappointed. For this one boy was whipped. Soon the

Canuck boys attacked the Yankee boys, and we were all badly licked. I, myself, got a

black eye. That has always prejudiced me against that kind of ceremonial and folly." It is

certainly interesting to note that in later years the prince for whom Edison endured the

ignominy of a black eye made generous compensation in a graceful letter accompanying

the gold Albert Medal awarded by the Royal Society of Arts.

Another incident of the period is as follows: "After selling papers in Port Huron, which

was often not reached until about 9.30 at night, I seldom got home before 11.00 or 11.30.

About half-way home from the station and the town, and within twenty-five feet of the

road in a dense wood, was a soldiers' graveyard where three hundred soldiers were

buried, due to a cholera epidemic which took place at Fort Gratiot, near by, many years

previously. At first we used to shut our eyes and run the horse past this graveyard, and if

the horse stepped on a twig my heart would give a violent movement, and it is a wonder

that I haven't some valvular disease of that organ. But soon this running of the horse

became monotonous, and after a while all fears of graveyards absolutely disappeared

from my system. I was in the condition of Sam Houston, the pioneer and founder of

Texas, who, it was said, knew no fear. Houston lived some distance from the town and

generally went home late at night, having to pass through a dark cypress swamp over a

corduroy road. One night, to test his alleged fearlessness, a man stationed himself behind

a tree and enveloped himself in a sheet. He confronted Houston suddenly, and Sam

stopped and said: `If you are a man, you can't hurt me. If you are a ghost, you don't want

to hurt me. And if you are the devil, come home with me; I married your sister!' "

It is not to be inferred, however, from some of the preceding statements that the boy was

of an exclusively studious bent of mind. He had then, as now, the keen enjoyment of a

joke, and no particular aversion to the practical form. An incident of the time is in point.

"After the breaking out of the war there was a regiment of volunteer soldiers quartered at

Fort Gratiot, the reservation extending to the boundary line of our house. Nearly every

night we would hear a call, such as `Corporal of the Guard, No. 1.' This would be

repeated from sentry to sentry until it reached the barracks, when Corporal of the Guard,

No. 1, would come and see what was wanted. I and the little Dutch boy, after returning

from the town after selling our papers, thought we would take a hand at military affairs.

So one night, when it was very dark, I shouted for Corporal of the Guard, No. 1. The

second sentry, thinking it was the terminal sentry who shouted, repeated it to the third,

and so on. This brought the corporal along the half mile, only to find that he was fooled.

We tried him three nights; but the third night they were watching, and caught the little

Dutch boy, took him to the lock-up at the fort, and shut him up. They chased me to the

house. I rushed for the cellar. In one small apartment there were two barrels of potatoes

and a third one nearly empty. I poured these remnants into the other barrels, sat down,

and pulled the barrel over my head, bottom up. The soldiers had awakened my father, and

they were searching for me with candles and lanterns. The corporal was absolutely

certain I came into the cellar, and couldn't see how I could have gotten out, and wanted to

know from my father if there was no secret hiding-place. On assurance of my father, who

said that there was not, he said it was most extraordinary. I was glad when they left, as I

was cramped, and the potatoes were rotten that had been in the barrel and violently

offensive. The next morning I was found in bed, and received a good switching on the

legs from my father, the first and only one I ever received from him, although my mother

kept a switch behind the old Seth Thomas clock that had the bark worn off. My mother's

ideas and mine differed at times, especially when I got experimenting and mussed up

things. The Dutch boy was released next morning."