Say, fellows, away back in the mountains of western North Carolina,
far up on the mountainside, at the head of a cove, there lived a
fifteen-year-old boy. He had sisters and brothers and parents, but
they dwelt in a little tumble-down shack and were wretchedly poor.
Jake was the oldest of the children, and he had to work hard in the
little patch of corn on the steep mountainside, which barely yielded a
crop.

Down the path a mile or so there was a little log schoolhouse where a
lady teacher gave some of the mountain children lessons in "readin',
ritin', and 'rithmetic." Jake had passed and repassed that schoolhouse
many times and wished that he might "go thar and larn," but Jake was
too important a hand on "the farm" to "waste enny time at sich"--so
thought his parents, neither of whom could read or write. "An' Jake
was pow'ful handy 'bout fixin' things, like tools en sich."

One day, when "the crop" was pretty well "laid by," Jake came to the
shack and, throwing his hoe into the corner, said: "Paw, I wanta be
Somebody!" Then Jake went on to say he had been thinking that now the
corn was in shape to go ahead and make what it would, he "might put
in some time ev'y day at the schoolhouse a-larnin' how to read and
write."

"But y'ain't got nothin' to buy books," was suggested.

"I'll see 'bout that 'ar," said Jake.

Next morning when the teacher arrived, Jake was waiting at the
schoolhouse door.