[Illustration: ANDREW CARNEGIE AT SIXTEEN WITH HIS BROTHER THOMAS]

As usual, my mother came to the rescue. There was no keeping her down.
In her youth she had learned to bind shoes in her father's business
for pin-money, and the skill then acquired was now turned to account
for the benefit of the family. Mr. Phipps, father of my friend and
partner Mr. Henry Phipps, was, like my grandfather, a master
shoemaker. He was our neighbor in Allegheny City. Work was obtained
from him, and in addition to attending to her household duties--for,
of course, we had no servant--this wonderful woman, my mother, earned
four dollars a week by binding shoes. Midnight would often find her at
work. In the intervals during the day and evening, when household
cares would permit, and my young brother sat at her knee threading
needles and waxing the thread for her, she recited to him, as she had
to me, the gems of Scottish minstrelsy which she seemed to have by
heart, or told him tales which failed not to contain a moral.

This is where the children of honest poverty have the most precious of
all advantages over those of wealth. The mother, nurse, cook,
governess, teacher, saint, all in one; the father, exemplar, guide,
counselor, and friend! Thus were my brother and I brought up. What has
the child of millionaire or nobleman that counts compared to such a
heritage?

My mother was a busy woman, but all her work did not prevent her
neighbors from soon recognizing her as a wise and kindly woman whom
they could call upon for counsel or help in times of trouble. Many
have told me what my mother did for them. So it was in after years
wherever we resided; rich and poor came to her with their trials and
found good counsel. She towered among her neighbors wherever she