How to own your own home is a problem which confronts the great majority. That it is oftentimes easily solved, however, is revealed by the following simple experience as related by H.M. Perley in Life:
How did we do it? Simply by going without everything we needed. When I was first married my salary was thirty dollars a month.
My mother-in-law, who lived with us, decided to save enough out of my salary to build us a home.
When the cellar was finished, I became ill and lost my position, and had to mortgage the cellar to make my first payment.
Although we went without food for thirty days the first year, we never missed a monthly payment.
The taxes, interest on mortgage, and monthly payment on house were now three times the amount of my earnings.
However, by dispensing with the service of a doctor, we lost our father and mother-in-law, which so reduced our expenses that we were able to pay for the parlor floor and windows.
In ten years seven of our nine children died, possibly owing to our diet of excelsior and prunes.
I only mention these little things to show how we were helped in saving for a home.
I wore the same overcoat for fifteen years, and was then able to build the front porch, which you see at the right of the front door.
Now, at the age of eighty-seven, my wife and I feel sure we can own our comfortable little home in about ten years and live a few weeks to enjoy it.
“Mars John,” excitedly exclaimed Aunt Tildy, as she pantingly rushed into a fire-engine house, “please, suh, phonograph to de car-cleaners’ semporium an’ notify Dan’l to emergrate home diurgently, kaze Jeems Henry sho’ done bin conjured! Doctor Cutter done already distracted two blood-vultures from his ‘pendercitis, an’ I lef him now prezaminatin’ de chile’s ante-bellum fur de germans ob de neuroplumonia, which ef he’s disinfected wid, dey gotter ’noculate him wid the ice-coldlated quarantimes—but I b’lieves it’s conjuration!”
A lady had the misfortune to lose her season ticket for the railway. On the same evening she had a call from two boys, the elder of whom at once handed her the lost ticket. The lady, delighted at the prompt return of her property, offered the boy a shilling for his trouble. The lad refused to accept it, telling the lady he was a Boy Scout, and that no member of the Boy Scouts is allowed to accept any return for a service rendered.
Just as the coin was about to be placed back in the purse of the lady, the boy, looking up into her face, suddenly blurted out:
“But my wee brither’s no’ a Scout.”