“That best portion of a good man’s life—­
    His little, nameless, unremembered acts
    Of kindness and of love.”

The chief happening, judged by its consequences, of the two years I spent with Mr. Scott at Altoona, arose from my being the principal witness in a suit against the company, which was being tried at Greensburg by the brilliant Major Stokes, my first host.  It was feared that I was about to be subpoenaed by the plaintiff, and the Major, wishing a postponement of the case, asked Mr. Scott to send me out of the State as rapidly as possible.  This was a happy change for me, as I was enabled to visit my two bosom companions, Miller and Wilson, then in the railway service at Crestline, Ohio.  On my way thither, while sitting on the end seat of the rear car watching the line, a farmer-looking man approached me.  He carried a small green bag in his hand.  He said the brakeman had informed him I was connected with the Pennsylvania Railroad.  He wished to show me the model of a car which he had invented for night traveling.  He took a small model out of the bag, which showed a section of a sleeping-car.

This was the celebrated T.T.  Woodruff, the inventor of that now indispensable adjunct of civilization—­the sleeping-car.  Its importance flashed upon me.  I asked him if he would come to Altoona if I sent for him, and I promised to lay the matter before Mr. Scott at once upon my return.  I could not get that sleeping-car idea out of my mind, and was most anxious to return to Altoona that I might press my views upon Mr. Scott.  When I did so, he thought I was taking time by the forelock, but was quite receptive and said I might telegraph for the patentee.  He came and contracted to place two of his cars upon the line as soon as they could be built.  After this Mr. Woodruff, greatly to my surprise, asked me if I would not join him in the new enterprise and offered me an eighth interest in the venture.

I promptly accepted his offer, trusting to be able to make payments somehow or other.  The two cars were to be paid for by monthly installments after delivery.  When the time came for making the first payment, my portion was two hundred and seventeen and a half dollars.  I boldly decided to apply to the local banker, Mr. Lloyd, for a loan of that sum.  I explained the matter to him, and I remember that he put his great arm (he was six feet three or four) around me, saying: 

“Why, of course I will lend it.  You are all right, Andy.”

And here I made my first note, and actually got a banker to take it.  A proud moment that in a young man’s career!  The sleeping-cars were a great success and their monthly receipts paid the monthly installments.  The first considerable sum I made was from this source. [To-day, July 19, 1909, as I re-read this, how glad I am that I have recently heard from Mr. Lloyd’s married daughter telling me of her father’s deep affection for me, thus making me very happy, indeed.]