In the year 1858 a steamer cast anchor at the Port Of old Indianola, and down the gang plank in the arms of his father, was borne a little boy, who only a few years before, had opened his eyes in Marianna, Florida. On reaching the shore his feet were placed on the soil of his adopted state, Texas, which in after years was to claim him as one among her foremost citizens; but little recked he of such events, as his little hands were busy waving farewell to captain and crew, with whom he had become quite a favorite during the voyage across the Gulf of Mexico. At the landing they were met by a relative, who conducted them to a wagon train, at that period the only mode of conveyance across the lowlands, which in rainy seasons became a veritable morass, and through which none but strong teams and skillful drivers could go. However, the weather being favorable, in due time they reached their destination, a farm dwelling, the site of which still remains in 1940, near where the railroad town of Edgar, DeWitt County, Texas, now stands. Here relatives and friends who had preceded them to Texas, welcomed among the others, little Thomas Matthew Stell, the fifth-generation of the original John Stell, who came to America from England previous to the Revolutionary War, in which he engaged as a private, and among his descendants were men whose services to their country and fellow man are recorded in the annals of America's history. Owing to cold weather his first few months were spent basking in the warmth thrown out from blazing logs, heaped high in the mammoth fireplace. But winter passed, and spring with her rejuvenating touch o'er-spread the Texas landscape. Sturdy moss festooned liveoaks that never shed their dress of green, but took on a brighter sheen. Tall post-oaks and rough spreading black jacks leafed out anew, and fringed blossoms swinging from all, would later be replaced by their fruitage of acorns. On the adjoining ridge hickory trees were busily folding covers of green around brown nuts, whose meaty kernels would later furnish winter feasts. Soft young grass, dotted with multi-colored wild flowers, bordered cow trails, and on the air was borne the tinkle of live stock bells, blending with the notes of birds that flitted about, building nests for the embryo stage of their coming offspring. Wildlife shyly peeped from coverts to which it had scurried at the sound of approaching footsteps; awakening within the breast of the little boy that spirit which lies dormant in the breast of all born to adventure, so the quest was on, and there, amid that splendid setting, he learned his first lesson from Nature, the foundation of all knowledge. Later he moved with his parents to his permanent home, a farm situated near the flourishing pioneer town of Concrete, DeWitt County. The old freight and stage route from Indianola to Gonzales, and Austin passed by the dwelling, where the stage coach, also freight wagons at times stopped to water their teams or have one of the blacks repair a damaged vehicle, as every slave holder owned a first class blacksmith. Frequently, some of the passengers, if cold weather, would come in to warm and drink coffee; if summertime, a class of cold buttermilk was substituted. Occasionally among them would be an experienced traveler, whose tales were eagerly listened to and tucked away in the memory of little Tom. To the right of his home ran the beautiful little stream known as Cuero Creek, which from its source a few miles above, wound in and out over a pebbly bottom between white sandy shore lines on its way a short distance below where it emptied into the Guadalupe River. The creek was called Cuero (Mexican for "hide") from the fact that here Mexican and Indians skinned cattle, which on coming down to drink, had perished in the quicksands and clay bogs. Their hides were sold in Gonzales and San Antonio long before the town of Cuero, which also became a shipping point for hides, was founded and given the same name. On this creek, only a few paces from the farm home, little Tom, instructed by the darkies learned to dig worms, catch frogs and grasshoppers for fish bait, his tackle consisting of a siene weed shoot for a pole, to which was attached a length of thread snipped from hanks piled high in a basket near black Lindy's spinning wheel, a necessary equipment in every southern home, bent pin for a hook, then away for the fascinating sport of minnow fishing. Also on this creek beneath the grape vine entwined branches of a spreading live oak tree, was the "Ole Swimmin Hole," where he was initiated into what the darkies termed, "going in washin." To the left, about a mile from the farm, flowed the Guadalupe River. Near this spot, between the sandstone banks, was the historical Indian ford, crossed by them when on their way to Irish Creek Hills, which over the ridge called Devil's Backbone, abounded in wild game. Not a great distance below the ford, a natural formation of rock extended about two-thirds across the stream, where the swiftly flowing current would surge around to the comparatively narrow opening at the end, called Hell's Gate. A few miles below where the county seat, Clinton, was afterward located, was Burnham's Ferry, the crossing on the Gonzales and Labahie Road, traveled by the heroes of the Texas Revolution 1835-36. O'er shadowing the river banks were cottonwoods, sycamore, elm and burr oak, also heavily bearing pecan trees and numbers of other fruit bearing trees and shrubs. Likewise, vines, clustered with grapes and berries were here, and guided by Uncle Abe, a trusted slave, whose devotion to his master and family, bordered on idolatry, in the swirling waters of the Guadalupe, little Tom mastered the art of river fishing, triumphantly bering home his catch of blue and channel cat and other fish. Accompanied by one or more of the young darkies, preferably Anty, he learned to trap birds, catch coon, 'possums, squirrels and any other wild game that could be found in all of which, his faithful dog, Watch, was his most valued aid. Cats, too, were great pets of his. the first cat to which he became attached was, because of its color, called Fox. When he was but a tiny tot, one time his mother, on missing him, anxiously searched surrounding grounds, but failing to find him, thought of a trail leading to a nearby stream which was crossed on a foot bridge when going to his grandfather's home. So with hastened footsteps she soon caught sight of his towhead just above the weeds, and on overtaking him, she discovered Fox in the lead just setting foot on the bridge; but, she never knew whether the cat accompanied the little boy or vice versa. His games and toys, shared alike with white children and plantation piccaninnies, were those common to all pioneer children, not a few being their own handicraft, manufactured principally with a jack-knife or barlow, the greatest treasure among a small boy's collection. One Christmas he was given a new knife, also a quarter; Bill, a small darkey, had likewise been given a shiny metal handled knife attached to a chain for fastening to his trousers pocket. The unique combination tempted little Tom to offer his knife in exchange for Bill's, to which Bill agreed if the quarter came with it. On proudly exhibiting his bargain, his father remarked, "Well, son, you don't show much wisdom in trading; you gave a quarter, probably the price of the knife, and threw in a valuable knife to boot." His was the privilege of being the son of a wise and industrious father, who oft times allowed him to come to the fields where the slaves, under the direction of one of their elders, old Uncle George, would be working in the crops. Here, while watching and at times assisting, he was inducted into the fundamentals of farming, with all of its attendant chores, by these faithful blacks, who were never forgotten by him, and in his mature manhood when they one by one passed on, he stood beside their coffins, as they closed from his view the last earthly sight of those kind faces, then at their graves to lift his voice in heart stirring eulogies on their virtues while living. On entering Sabbath School his aptitude for learning enabled him to soon memorize the catechism. The Bible, with its contents of Jewish chronology, was his text book, and the means of his grasping his first compass point of history, and no voyager, bent on continental discovery, ever followed the needle point more closely than he in his mental pursuit throughout the world's highways and byways, resulting in mentally registering historical date and data second to none. His first term of study was under an aunt, Mrs. Randolph Stell, who taught the neighborhood school. Then he was placed under instructors at the famous Covey College, established by Professor John Covey at Concrete, DeWitt County, Texas. Soon out-distancing primary classes, he entered those of advanced students. A born orator, ere reaching his teens, he was selected as one among the speakers for what is now termed Commencement. The chief topic of the day was the brilliant rise and disastrous fall of Napoleon Bonaparte. Ross's Southern Speaker, a volume highly prized for its suitable declamations from gifted pens, contained among others, "The Character of Napoleon Bonaparte." In delivering this assignment with the poise and diction befitting an experienced speaker, he held the undivided attention of the audience, thereby, earning the ever afterwards retained place in the ranks of public speakers. An inveterate reader, with a peference for first class authors, he in time accumulated a library of Fiction, Legends and Facts. History, both secular and sacred, was never for very long omitted from his daily reading, the whole of which his remarkably keen mind absorbed and retained, and thereby fitting him for impromptu addresses on any and every occasion. When but a lad he often entertained the family at night time by reading aloud some interesting articles, a pleasure which he practiced throughout his life. Ere he was old enough to fully grasp the significance of war, steadily increasing Northern Thunders burst in devastating fury over the Sunny Southland. His father's physical condition barred him from action, but the boy's heart swelled with pride as he watched his relatives and others march away to offer their lives as a sacrifice on their country's altar in defense of what they considered their birthright. But by the time the carnage ceased, he in his own estimation, had become a seasoned soldier, having commanded numerous mimic battles, his staff composed of little negroes from the quarters. A few years after the Civil War his father died, leaving him sole guardian of a widowed mother, four sisters and a brother, all younger than himself. Emancipation had practically disorganized farming, therefore it took stout hearts to carry on, but courageously shouldering the responsibility of a man, he never swerved from the pathway marked out by duty. Cradled in the legendary lap of the Old South naturally developed in him a lasting patriotic love for his native land, and no one's sympathy struck deeper than his for the defenders of the lost cause while the Stars and Bars entwined with the folds of the Lone Star were ever venerated by him as the insignia of heroes. And, with the true comprehension of a patriot, he also gave allegiance to the Stars and Stripes. Later on, in adult years, taking a broader prospectus of the situation, he found much to admire in some of the Northern statesmen. On one occasion, when thus expressing himself, he was reprimanded by an elderly Virginia gentleman, to whom he replied, "Sir, I can still be a rebel without holding animosity toward an individual." Living so near, gave him the chance, while helping on the farm, to also complete the academic course at "Covey." He was offered a professorship, but decided to work cattle instead. To quote from him, "I almost grew up on a horse helping my father with cattle. When I was ten years old, a herd of five hundred Long Horns was made up on our range, driven by Denison, Texas, through Arkansas into Missouri. All of my life I had been accustomed to seeing such steers, but that solid herd of "Mossyhorns" was one of the most impressive sights of my life." Those early years in the saddle accounted for his preference for that mode of transportation whenever possible, and in later years one of his most exhilarating pleasures was to mount a high stepper (scorning Old Dobbin) and join the line of Old Trail Drivers when on parade. In his day he had owned some noted cowponies, usually bearing outstanding names. St. Elmo, Montezuma and Rocky Mountain, were among his best, especially Rocky Mountain, who when cashing a wild beef, would unhesitatingly plunge into a surging stream, swim or jump, if narrow enough, but always landed sure-footed on the opposite side of the bank, the almost perpendicular sides of which he scaled with never a mishap. No one but old time cow hands can know the dangerous feats and thrilliing excitement in rounding up Texas Longhorns, one of the State's historical assets. This animal, when crowded, would turn with furious horn thrusts, often times goring both horse and rider to the vitals. Several times, while thus engaged, he happened to accidents, which fortunately, proved minor at the time. However, with advanci age, a knee ailment set up, which was traced back to one of those accidents. In time he became an expert in using the lasso, branding irons, breaking wild horses, and all that goes to make a seasoned cow hand, and no subject could awaken in him greater enthusiasm than indulging in conversation reminiscent of the range, a pasttime he enjoyed to the fullest in his later years when attending the Old Trail Drivers' Conventions at San Antonio, where he was a member. And, there, mixing and mingling with grizzled veterans of the range, old tales were told, old songs were sung, and old days recalled to memory. In territory covered by him in cattle driving extended from the coast of the Gulf of Mexico to northern markets, wherein he passed through the customary exciting experiences common to frontier ranching and cattle trailing, and notwithstanding the trails led through thickly infested Indian country where skirmishes between cowboys and Indians were not uncomon, he fortunately escaped hand- to- hand combats. END PART I