My first attempt in learning to write was copying the letters marked on pieces of timber in a shipyard. After I was able to make four letters, I would tell any boy who could write that I could write as well as he did. The next word would be, "I don't believe you. Let me see you try it." I would then write the letters and ask him to beat that. In this way I got a good many lessons in writing. During this time, my copybook was the board fence, brick wall, and the pavement; my pen and ink was a lump of chalk. I then started and continued copying the Italics in Webster's Spelling Book, until I could make them all without looking at the book. By this time, my little Master Thomas had learned how to write and had written over a number of copybooks. When Mrs. Auld was away from the house every Monday afternoon, leaving me to take care of the house, I used to spend the time in writing in the spaces left in Thomas's copybook, copying what he had written. I continued to do this until I could write a hand very similar to that of his. Thus, after a long, tedious effort for years, I finally succeeded in learning how to write.