So, consulting
his own children, in his own house, he took
the firewood, for he had no money to buy lumber,
and whittled those strong, unpainted Hingham
toys that were for so many years known all over
the world. That man began to make those toys
for his own children, and then made copies and
sold them through the boot-and-shoe store next
door. He began to make a little money, and then
a little more, and Mr. Lawson, in his _Frenzied
Finance_ says that man is the richest man in old
Massachusetts, and I think it is the truth. And
that man is worth a hundred millions of dollars
to-day, and has been only thirty-four years making
it on that one principle--that one must judge
that what his own children like at home other
people's children would like in their homes, too;
to judge the human heart by oneself, by one's
wife or by one's children. It is the royal road to
success in manufacturing. ``Oh,'' but you say,
``didn't he have any capital?'' Yes, a penknife,
but I don't know that he had paid for that.
I spoke thus to an audience in New Britain,
Connecticut, and a lady four seats back went home
and tried to take off her collar, and the collar-
button stuck in the buttonhole.
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