The weekly ledger. (Gaffney City, S.C.) 1894-1896, December 31, 1896, Image 3
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THE LEDGER: GAFFNEY, 9. C., DECEMBER 31, 1890.
“IN THE CHRISTMAS.”
Tho Sago of Rocky Crook Looking
Buokwards.
Bank Williams and V.Tddnr llljrjjor*—
When the Course of True 1,oyo Didn’t
itun Smooth Ly n Whole l.ot—
Tho Out 1’raylnest i’royer.
Every time I go down to the Flat
Woods and back—acrost tho bridge
over the Jordan
creek — I can’t
keep from
thinkln about
Hank Williams
and the wkkler
Riggers, a n <1
the scandlous
bad confusion-
men t which
they got Into
oncst upon a
time. In thorn
days, ton chin
1 which I now sen-t myself tp drop you a
few scatterin remarks. Hank Williams
was livin right, t heiv r.t the old Williams’
place on the hill this Hide of the creek,
whilst the Widder Riggers rhe was liv-
Jn over aerost on the other side a mile
»nd a half, or maybe a little better.
To Do Al>cut or Dies
At that time the Widder Riggers was
fat and fair and forty—already ’'broke
and brldlewke,” as lirit Foster were
wont to any. Rut Hank Williams he
WHS one of the most nervous and baoh-
, fuleot men that I have ever scraped up
• ru acquaintance with, lie was jest
.ii. About good grown then -stood full six
feet In hia cooks and was a man amongst
' Snen. He had went through l. r > or "0
l«id fights and always whipped his man
as eaay as fnliin off of a wet log. Rut
when It eojne to the female generation
—well, Hank Williams he wnu’t in the
fight any to speak of. I have seen him
g i. caught out amongst the womgn
foil;?, ns it wt re, and blamed if it didn’t
look to me like he would have every
thing on the sick list from a night
A went to a buck ngrr. I row recollect
one Mme when a gni.g of ns l>oys tolled
Hank off to a >>reak down dance over
fin 1 hill country and turnedhim loose in
the house where there was a tremendius
big drove of girls and he was t he on lyest
boy. and I’ll be blessed if he ’.lldn’t take
a Ruddcnt case of measles and break
out.
It was in tb.ii dead of winter—sorre-
wlieres along betw; n Christmas and
, . Year—and by Thai time Hank had
worked up a furious bad onse with
the widder. He laid want her his fine
two-year-old turkey gobbler to make
it Christmas dinner, and in hog kiliin
time aho had returned hisdoublo-breast-
cd compliments bv endin him a big
mess of backbone, and spare rilrs, and
. sausages., ami the like of that, So fur
ns anybody knows. Hank never did |
fool clT any time viitin love letters, I
with plenty of flowers and fancy trlm-
mlns throwed in for good measure.
Rut yet still at the ? we time, anybody
- could Rhct one eye and see that lie
meant business over aerost the creek,
and the widder well, she want gone
nowhorcs.
Finally at last In them days It come
to pass that a big circus was eomin to
town Friday night before New Year,
and the time had now come for Hank
Will iams to do about or die.
“Cnt ttio ’Tot, V«'In or
That Vi’cdncrdry inornin before the
circus was to su.ow on Frklay Haul:
come by our house bright and early on
his way to to\yn. I had went out to
the lot end^vm; boidin to the stock
w hen he rid by in a. swingin galiojs—
which up to that time 1 never had
r.een him pass l y before sunrise, nor
ridin faster than a jw-art bix walk.
“Somethin’s in Hie wind this moriiln,
rufus,’’ says mother Id me, when 1 n*•
turned back from the lot, “Hank Wil
liams is up and gone too outlandish
roon and riilin most to furious like and
fast,” *
Rut I didn’t take any praticiilar no
tice of what was goln On till late Ilia*
even In when Hank conic back fiaun
town. Then I could see wherein moth
er had ])laeed him dead to rights. He
was now ridin in a spankin new buggy,
with bright Rlunin harness and a red
Rtripe<l lap robe. Human nature h
most in general alw ays'human, and so
I naturally went out in the !> : g mn l
when I saw Hank eomin. and licit him
pp and calk'd on him to know what in
the discovered world was goln on.
“Nothin in ; articular, Fufc,” rays he.
“C^ceptin it is now or never with ni<*
and the widder. The cards are coni in
my way thi-s eve nln, end to-morrow 1
will cut the jut, v. or lore. We have
made our arnti ' rinent.s to go and take
}n the show, hand in hand together,
r.nd then if tbe weddin don’t come ol?
In pursuit of adjouriiment. I will have
to know the reason why. Rnfe, you
have travelled all tiie ga ls and covered
fll,' the grouml. tiposin you come over
and see me off in gixsl ami regular
on’ er."
?l»n sir, I ran shet my t yes to-night
and Jock bock and ree Hank Willinnu*
n« be went forth that day toeourtthe
Widder Riggers. He. wore a full black
Milt of new store-bought clothes—fine
as split silk and soft as the fur on n
cat’s lack—end lliiewite a boll-opown
■to\>pipe hat. In his uiitside left n
poeki-t he carried a new opeu-facesllvcr
w atch, w hich you eoidd hear it tick into
the next room. On one linger he wore
!» gry gold ring, whilst the smell of
musk was in his do! In s and bear grease
in hif hair. And when he wentout and
rtrlv off in hir. new buggy—with the
bright shiny liurnc: and ml rtriped lop
robe--1 anys to myself, rays I—If the
hamcidriiig holds and the traces don’t
break and the !>i el.in don’t fly up,
there is plenty of far', in America yet,
A Time for '•te. rj an I It.r Tour*.
. In the maiutaae \ >u miiEt recollect,
Wung ;... ! grnlle rtad r, tiuit there ><
^any a ^iippunee betwixt the oui
firing dawn under tin hill and the
r aater« bucket on tin: bad; In If. Did
I
tho Widder Riggers go to the circus
that day? She did. And Hank Wil
liams—did he go with her? lie didn’t.
Rut now os to the why fores nml tho
wheneeness thereof, ’ can but only tdl
you like Hank told me the m t time me
and him met up together.
Everything went ‘umxdh ; id lovely, 1
Rnfe, till I get don there to the creek.’’
says Hank to me, “but as I drlv aerost i
1 the bridge the mnehinery jumped a cog.
Rurdblame it, there is v. l eve 1 bustexl the
jug and s])iH my moh’.-ses. uo to speak.
You know I wno drlvin that big rord |
horse Rail, which I got fn the swap with |
Will Tom Pickens, and which Will Tom
had bought him from the widder.
“Well, ns I driv aerost the bridge, feel-
In as rich and handsome os any rosebud, i
I pulled out my watch and leant back to i
see what time of day it was. Right |
j there—Inthat very same sad minute j
. old Rail tipped and fell to his knees,
r.nd then floundered around there so !
terrific till hanged if It didn’t look to
me like he would tear the bridge down
before he could catch on hir feet onest
| more. In the general shake up and
eonfusionment I dropped my watch and
| it rolled off of the bridge and into the
creek below. I had saw right where it
fell, and it didn’t take me long to see
, what I had to do, or lose a bully watch.
“So I driv out on the other side of the
bridge, turned old Rail out to one side
of the road, climbed out of my fine
clothes and my stem pii>o hat, and went
down into the water after my watch.
Now presently, whilst 1 was down
there chin-deep in the water feelin for
my watch with my toes-—thinkin T
would find it for certain before I mode
the dive—I looked up the hill and there
was old Rail, [>olln ofl' in a jog trot and
headed for the widders with my fine
new suit of store-boughtclothesnnd my
stovepijie hat in the buggy.
ARE ON CHURCHES.
Quotes Doan Swift on a Pouter
Without a Folio win '.
Defers to Judgc.-i an:l Ce. t J -ITe Discusses
the Methods of Suioral Deaomlua-
tlons in Callini; 1’as tors and
Making Changes.
out
"Then, man, sir, I come
that water like I was shot out of a can
non and put out. up the road after old
Rail. I give him a dost race for .some
thin letter than n mile, and when
finally at last I scrambled into the
buggy from behind we wno right there
in sight of the widder’s house. Old Ball
hud slipjietl the bridle and wan drnggin
ihe lines on tin* ground. I couldn’t
pull him in, and the blamed old skate
wouldn’t stop lor nothin. I talked to
him kind and gentle like, then loud and
\ehement, I first begged him. and then
cussed him, but dadburn him he halt
his gait and keep the road — never
missed a lick uphill and downhill.
You can see, Rnfe, where somethin had
to be done right away immediately,
and a little sooner if possible.
“ConsequentinHy I clambered into a
fe'w of my clothes and then wrapped up
snug and dost in one corner of my
large and lovely lap rol>e. Likewise
also, I pulled on my fine fur trimmed
dogskin glovca and my stovepipe hat,
— which in the mnintiine. it had foil out
and got itin over and mashed in the
mud till it looked Eke the ragged edge
of ruination. Time w;tt; so precious
then— the moments flew so sn.jnlaious-
ly fast—and I done like you would do.
Rnfe— like any man would do in a bad
cose of pusheney. And to speak forth
the great unwashed truth, when I teil
you I had on a stovepipe lint, a pair
of gloves, a lap rolie and a few under
garments—the. story is told.
“This and so we reached the wid-
der’s place. If I had but only licit the
ribbons in one hand and a good whale
bone whfp in th(> other, I would of driv
right on by there in a di-ad run. Rut
in gentle remembrance of his corn and
fodder in the past—for the sake of bet
ter and brighter days gone by—that,
blamed old home turned out and trotted
right up to the front gate.
“The widder, it would seem, she was
ready and a wnilin—primped clean out.
of sight and dressed in an inch
of her life.—Hero she come prancin out
to the buggy, with her ribbons and her
finery naturally rustlin in the wind and
whistlin at every step. We passed the
roglar compliments in regards to the
weather, and when she wanted to know
how I was eomin on, I told her ruther
porely, thank the Lord. She wanted me
to light and come in and let her fix me
up some snakeroot and jn ppor tea. Rut
I was as hot as a fox right then and
sweat-in like a free nigger on election
day. Then ehc put hi and fixed the
bridle and took up the lines and crawled
into the buggy, and we rid of? towards
town. The widder rhe had circus on
the brain, and nothin but the circus
would fill the bill for her. She could tell
that I was neither drunk nor crazy,
and from my general appearments 1
reckon she thought I was too bad
sheered and ralthd to know anything
for certain.
“As wo driv on down the road I w on
dered in my soul w hat 1 must do. And
what could 1 do( Rnfe, but put my trust
in the good Lord, and wait and watch
and-pray. In my mind and on the sly I
prayed, and I do reckon 1 prayed the
out pmyincst prayer that ever went
up to the throne of grace—prny-
in that somethin mought happen to
l<c*op me from goln to tow n and to the
circus with the widder under the sur
round i n c i r eu mfe re n eo.
We had w ent about two miles w hen
all of a suddent we turned a Wild in the
road and driv up behind John Andrew
Milligan and his folks in a wagon. It
was a monstrous rough place in the
road, and old Rail stopped ho quick and
suddent like till the oouplin pin broke,
the buggy come uncoupled, and me and
tin* widder went down in on sad smash-
up. She fell out one w ay and I fell out
the. other, whilst my new clothes tum
bled out in a pile, right there in the
mud.
“Rut now, as for me and the w idder
we have took out and quit houeefor-
wnrds nml forevermore. I ain’t fittir.
to be foolln and fmnbiin around
amongst the female gmerntion, Rnfe,
and it is ewrla-tingiy too late for meto
git fit tea. A ud yi u are de d right in
regards to . ; thing, l.efe - Iliero la
many n slippum.; betwixt the old
spring down undci the hill ijnd tho wa
ter bucket on t^re Rack Khclf."
ItVFI’O HANDERS.
There Is an old English rhyme w hich
rays:
" A jiastor without any p-.’oplo
Is like a church without a jtccple.”
Dean Swift added two lines, which
said:
’• A people without a paster
Are Uko a dog without a nijtsier.”
This fits us better for we have lost
ours and are now’ groping around in
search of another one. Calling a
preacher 1h always a perplexing and em
barrassing thing to do. What is the
best mode of procedure has long been
u vexed question among the churches.
There are some objections to every
method that has been tried. It is like
tho election of judges of our courts;
nine times in my recollection the mode
of their election has been changed in
Georgia and now the press and the pco-
| pie are howling for another change.
I Rut the churches don’t change. They
; think it better to endure the objections
| rather than abandon the faith and for-
1 mula of their fathers. The Methodists
get their preachers from the bishops
and the people have no choice in the se-
hetion. If they r.rr disappointed they
j make no complaint, for they know that
the. year will soon pass and a change
will come. The rotation must go on.
There is no interregnum. They are
never without a preacher. This plan
saves the people some embarrassment.
It is hard upon the preachers, and espe
cially upon their wives and children.
No permanent abode; no home attach
ments; no vine and fig tree; no neigh-
l>ors of long standing w ho have been
true and tried in sickness and health.
Ry the time they begin to know them ;
and to love them the year is gone and j
they must separate. Dr. Johnson, the
great philosopher, said: “I have always |
looked upon it as the worst condition of J
man’s destiny that persons are so often !
torn asflunder just ns they become '
happy in each other’s society.” Meth- |
odist preachers’ wives and children arc !
the gypsies of tho church. I have nl- !
w ays sympathized wit h them.
Another objection to the, Wesleyan
method is the bishop’s lack of informa- |
tlon as to the needs of the different I
churches and the qualifications of the !
preachers to be assigned. Of course |
he has to consult the elders and these i
have, their favorites, their college 1
mates, their likes and dislikes, nml the
appointments sometimes are disap- '
point men ts and cause heart burnings
that are smothered, but felt. We see
by the papers that Rev. Robert Tooinbs
Dubose, n grandson of Rob Toombs,
was given six little scattered country
churches for the coming year, and he
says he cannot take the burden, for his
health is very joor and the winter’s
travel from church to church would en
danger his life. It looks like somebody
ought to have known this before.
Rome 40 years ago a Mr. Graves wrote a
.••urenstie, unkind book nlxmt the power
of the bishops over the people, ami pic
tured n great iron wheel revolving hor
izontally and the bishops sitting on it
in dignified ease, while the wheel rested
on the bowed shoulders of the humble
preachers.
The Episcopalians get their preach
ers from the bishops, too, but they
don't rotate, neither do they get far
away from railroads or civilization.
They are the mostdevoted sectarians of
nil Christian denominations—devoted
to their church, its venerable renow n,
its rituals and traditions—devoted to
their bishop almost to idolatry. An in
different preacher is all the some to them
as the most eloquent divine, for they
perform os much of the service ns be
does, and only not'd him for a leader.
If he ran read the ritual passing well
and pn*s the communion he is all right
with them. It is an admirable feature
in the ritual of this church that the peo
ple l>oth young and old take so promi
nent a. part in the service. I asked a
critical synical friend one Sunday
morning where he was going in such a
hurry. “I’m going up to my church to
worship God—not man,” said he. I
read the other day about an old fisher
man who had taken a. great liking to
an Episcopal preacher who was fishing
In his neighborhood, and he accepted
his invitation to come and hear him
preach in a neighboring church next.
Sabbath. He put on. his best clothes
fcnd rode the old mare to the little,
oho pel and took a front seat and tried
to be devout for the first time in his
life. After t he sen ice was over ho took
the preacher by the hand and said:
“Well, parson, 1 promised to conic, and
I conic. I didn't understand much of
what you was saying and doing, but
I rls and sot with you the best I could.”
I have always thought that there was
most too much riilin’ an’ sottin’ in that
church, and not enough in the others.
We took a little city boy with ms to
church last Sunday. It was his first
adventure of that kind, but he had
been going to matinees. “Aunty, what
are they doing now?” he, whispered.
“They arc saying their prayers,” she
re plied. So he bowed ids head and re
peated: “Twinkle, tw inkle, little star."
The Baptists have the moet demo
cratic method of calling a preacher.
It is the very essence of simplicity.
They call whom they please and every
member has a vote. They keep him as
long as it is mutually agreeable^and
either party can dissolve the. relation
ship at pleasure. Of course, there is
always sonic embarrassment about get
ting rid of an unwelcome preacher, but
there is one way that is generally suc
cessful. They can otarve him out.
This method will move him ns effectual
ly u.s smoking a rabbit out of a hollow
tiee.
The Presbyterian mode of calling a
preacher has much to commend it after
It is happily done, but Is beset with em
barrassment in the doing of it. The
call is strictly democratic for everj
member has a vote, but after the call is
made and the preacher ordained as pas
tor the presbytery locks the door and
puts the key in its pocket and says now
that you have got him you must keep
him till I say no. It is like the law of
marriage and divorce. It is easy
enough to get married, but it used to be
quite a difficult thing to get unmar
ried. I say “it used to lie.” It is not
much trouble now, neither is it ns much
trouble as it used to be for a preacher
to get divorced from his church. If he
gets tired he goes. If he has a more
inviting call he goes. If the climate
does i\yt agree with his health he goes.
If his salary is not promptly paid he
goes, and I sec In a late paper that a
preacher says the reason why he re
signed his pastorate and is seeking an
other is that he has finished his work
in that community. That I« what the
paper said. I would like to see that
church. Eveiybody sainted. I reckon,
and no outsiders to be t-iilnted. Surely
he didn’t say that. When a Presby
terian pastor has made up his mind to
change his Imse the people had just ns
well submit as gracefully as they can.
for the presbytery will ratify it. No
congregation should try to keep an un-
willing, dissatisfied pastor, nml they
don’t. Preachers arc Just human and
will seek to better their condition.
The best preachers get the best places,
and this is right. It is the unwritten
law of the church and of the state—
the law of business and commerce and
art and society. For ministerial talent
there is always room at the top.
I was ruminating about these things
because we have lost our preacher and
are looking around for another. He
had a call to a bigger and maybe a bet
ter place with a larger salary, and he
accepted liefore we hardly knew he was
called. He hadn’t finished up this
church and he knew it, but I reckon w as
afraid that it would finish him up if he
staid, for the times were, so hard we
couldn’t pay him promptly, though we
did the best we could. Preachers want
their salary in the bank, and it ought to
be. I was present once when n preacher
w-ns ordained. After the ceremony,
when the people went up to give him
their hands and their benedictions, one
old man said: “May the l/ord keep you
humble; we will keep you poor.” And
they did. For 40 years 1 have lieon
looking for a country chureh that paid
the preacher a sufficient salary and paid
it promptly. Paying the preacher is
the unsolved problem and has been
ever since there were preachers. Dea
cons and stewards ought to get to
Heaven, for the}- have a hard time here.
Goldsmith tells u.s of the village
preacher:
“A man ho v.-aa to all tho country dear.
And passing rich at forty pounds a year."
So great and good a man ns Jonathan
Edwards after 24 years of faithful serv
ice at Northampton was voted outof his
pulpit, and like an old horse turned out
to graze and die. We find a good deal
of fault with the. preachers and some
times with their wives and children, but
after all they are as a class the best ]>co-
ple we have got and set us the l>e.st ex
amples. How soon would we lose our
morality without them. They have
their likes and dislikes, and perhaps
their favorites in the church, and so do
we.. In the old times they preached for
smaller salaries. The salary w as a sec
ondary consideration, but now it is the
firsts Over f>0 years ago I went to
school to an Irishman who suddenly
took a notion that lie would quit teach
ing and go to preaching. lie studied a
year and then applied to the presby
tery at Columbus for examination and
license. The committo reported favor
ably and ho. was about to pass success
fully. when old Dr. Goulding, the
moderator, leaned forward and said:
“I will ask the canelldatc a single ques
tion. Brother Gray, do you feel in your
heart that the Lord has called you to
preach tho Gospel to tho people?"
"\es,” said he, “if they pay me for it.”
lie was not licensed. He attached too
much importance to the pay.
There are but few long-continued
jinstorates in there Inter years. As
soon as a preacher get*, a reputation he
is called to a wealthier chureh, and he
goes. It Is easy for him to see that the
way is clear and U is the Lord’s will
when the salary is Increased, The pas
torates in England and Germany arc
life-long and there Is no chance for the
college graduates save to wait for their
death or superannuation or for new
churches to l>e established.
The Presbyterian mode, of calling a
pastor has no fixed rules or usages.
For awhile the vacated chureh is all at
sea, but by and by the applications be
gin to come in and references are given.
A correspondence is had and inquiries
aro made ns to the applicant’s charac
ter as a man and a preacher and a work
er, and as to his wife and children. If it
be practicable lie is invited to come and
preach n trial sermon and mlnglorior a
day or two with the people. This is a
hard experience on any sensitive Chris
tian man, for he realizes that he is oa
trial and that the jury is composed of
I>erhnps 100 men and women to whom
he is a stranger and who know noth
ing of his inner life, his emotions, his
struggles and misfortunes. The situa
tion is against him, for people will
naturally wonder why he docs not- stay
where ho is If he la the right sort of a
man. Maybe he does not w ear well and
his people are tired of him. And so he
is a suspect. Tho test of a preacher
from a single sermon and a day’s ac
quaintance is a very unfair trial both
1 to preacher and people. Rut w hat, else
' ^an lie done? The result not unfre-
juently is that one or both are disap
pointed and another change Is wanted.
1’he church is split up. There are ma
jorities and minorities until finally the
subscriptions fall off and the preacher
has to go or starve. Money is the
sinews of church prosperity as well as
nf war. The love of money is the root
of all evil and tho lack of it is nearly aa
bad. It will chill and paralyze the spir
itual life of any church.—BUI Arp, In
Atlanta Constitution.
A DIVERSITY OF GIFTS.
Sam Jonca on tho Many-Sidedness
of Humanity.
Tho DifTcrciu-e Dotwecu n Oenlnft and
the Common Fellow—Gravity Inverted
Carrie* n Alan Upward—Failure
Near tho Hilltop.
Humanity Is many-sided, is of many
kinds—all casts, colors,clleksnndkinds.
In al! phases of life we have diversity.
America in lus ucsial life rarges from
the dudes of the Four Hundred to the
old rod-nosed bums in the back alley
saloons; from the society woman with
her wealth and want of heart to the
old darky hunting 'possums because
his home is out of meat. In the busi
ness world, from millionaires down to
mendicants. In the political world,
they range from Gladstone to a state
legislator. There may be something
below Unit, but he is nearly out of j
sight. In the former life, from the j
big planter down to the old darky with
the stiff-eared mule. In the manufnc-
luring ciricles, from Carnegie, of Pitts- i
burgh, to the red-neck of Mississippi,
sitting up with his tar kiln. In the
railroad world, from George D. Roberts,
president of the Pennsylvania, to the
brake-man on some little jerk-water
road out west. Oil, the millions of
teeming, struggling humanity between
these two extremities in all the classes
I have mentioned. Energy and thrift
and brains head the procession in the
commercial and professional world,
w ith now and then n genius like Edison
in electricity; a Wanamaker In mer
chandise; a Milton Smith In railroad
ing; a Philip Armour in manipulating.
A man who does big things, great
big things, and keeps on doing them,
isa genius. Justany ordinary common
fellow could not do it the first time;
and ho cannot keep on doing it. An
old-fnshioned cannon will shoot na loud
as a Gatling gun, but it just can’t keen
ou shooting a hundred times a minute
t ill It gets so hot you have to pour water
on it. A little peg won’t fill a big hole.
You have got to brush the peg or lose
it. A frog might be as big as an ox
if his hide would stand the stretch,
but It bursts on the way. A mule
might pull as much ns an engine, and
then again it mightn’t. A few great
men lead the proee:wion in all lines.
A Brooks, a. Spurgeon, a. Beecher, will
pitch the tone for a century higher
than most men can sing in the theo
logical world. Here and there a farm
er is getting rich, broadening his acres,
shows the world what a farmer can
do if he is a man as well as a farmer.
A man who succeeds at one thing may
have succeeded at many others. A
failure is a failure. It takes pluck and
vim and brains to “ge,| tlie.re.” If a
fellow has got them and don’t “get
there.” he ought to be left, and will be
left,and left forever. There is n good deal
of independence and dogmatism about
a fellow who gets there. A man who
is always working, struggling and do
ing something loses sympathy with
trani(>s and idlers. A man who keeps
and saves and accumulates loses sympa
thy with the prodigal and wasteful.
A man who similes and thinks and
grows intellectually soon parts com-
jxmy with fools. One man will take
a great railroad system and bankrupt
it. Another man will take hold of a
bankrupt system, like Samuel Spencer
and the Southern system, and liter
ally raise it from the. dead. One
jxistor can take a chureh and run
It- like a thing of life. Another
soon gets It ready for spiritual
irterment. One farmer converts sun
shine and show ers into grain and wheat
and oats nml corn and cotton and po
tatoes. For another man all these
things seem to make only weeds ami
grass. One college graduate has token
the curriculum of the school simply as
a springing board to leap into higher
and better success. Others have come
homo from college to board with their
daddies until their daddies-ln-law fur
nish equal or better lodgings. One man
begins braking on a railroad. By and
by ho is president of the road. Another
fellow starts out as vice president and
winds up without the position of brake-
man.
Gravity inverted carries a man up
ward. He who can invert gravity don’t
need wings to lly. A Joseph Pulitzer
can take a daily newspaper out of the
•lust and give It the largest circulation
of any newspaper in the world. Others
turn their newspapers over Into the
hands of the sheriff ora receiver. There
Is more in the man than there is in the
land. If a boy has got in him what we
rail metal in the blade of a knife he
will cut bis way. If he has not he had
as well stay down and take it easy. A
little fellow w ins running along in front
of a gentleman on the sidewalk once
and couldn’t keep out of the. way well.
The gentleman said to him: “Get out of
my way, boy. What are you fit for
anyway?” The little fellow replied:
*T am the stuff they make men out
of.” There is the j>oint at lust. If the
fellow’ has got the stuff in him that cun
make a man then he gets there.
There is a diversity In wives.
Rome wives aro but wings to their hus-
Ixinds by which they fly from hill
top to mountain-top till they soar in t he
altitudes of success. Other wives are
but millstones about their husband’s
necks. So in every phase of life they
come anti go. They go up and they
come dow n. Ambition, effort, econ
omy, honesty—these qualities carry to
highest success. Indolence, extrava
gance and shiftlessnesH cut a man’s legs
and arms off and make him craw 1 like a
worm. I don’t know a man to-day who
has succeeded in life but who deserved
to succeed. There may bo some who
have failed who didn’t deserve to fall.
A man who is aimlws, purposeless, am
bitionless is a cipher. The world must
carry him, must feed him, must clothe
him, The successful man is preemi
nently a busy man. If something is
ready for him to do he hunts a job.
adage says: ‘‘All things com* to
waits.” Whether all thing*
L •• ihr
come to him or nc
coffin come to him ?1
Many a man has pt
top of the hill of oucce
his wagon run back
bottom of the hill. Mi
pulled an hour or a daj-
have reached the top and rl
hill of success. More failure
made near the hill-top than ever
else from base to top. It takes a me
to pull when his shoulders are Mre
when he. is out of breath and tre
In every nerve; but the felldtor Hrlwji
starts to the top determined to get
there or die, generally dies on top of
tne. Very few lie dead be
tween the base end the top. I would
not ridicule u man’s natural Infirmities
If be Lao not had the facility or oppor
tunity to remedy them, bul^ thousands
of the defect* of life are not Imiurdt?*" - '
They come of the life we live. They
come like a sober man becomes a
drunkard, like n good man becomes a
rascal, like a rich man become* a pau
per. To stultify and blunt the eapabil- i
Hies Is iss wicked ok arson or theft. To “
js-rvert the faculties which, if rightly
used, would bring success, is a crime
itself. It is my duty to use all I have,
mind, heart and soul, resources and
all, n» simply stepping stones to some
thing higher and better. Hell 1*down;
Heaven Is up. It 1« cney to roll down
grade, but we only climb up by *1
and measured all round the -<|
climbing is for easier than the
of rolling downward.
I have mixed with men w ho have suc
ceeded. They meant to succeed or die.
1 have mixed with men who failed.
They had rather fail than die; hence
they failed and hove not died yet.
Traveling ns I do, almost constantly
here and there I see diversities mani
fold, mnniformed. Rome of them in
spire and some of them sicken. Thus
humanity marches on, every man to
his liking.
SAM P. JONES.
A KENTUCKY TRADE. - 1
TIm ColMMl Wm ltu«n«l to Uo Might In
ftiio Swim.
A drummer w as waiting for a train at
n little station in Kentucky the other
day when u red-nosed man came along
dragging by one arm a tall man wear
ing a big slouch hat, a now suit of store
clot lues uud a big gold w atch chain.
“Tluit’s him," nuid the red-nostxl man,
pointing to a man who sat upon, a barrel
at the other end of the platform, whit
tling a stick.
"Air yo’ shore?” asked the tall man,
leaching under his coat and looking
somewhat nervous.
“I ought to know Lem Rogers, colonel.
If anybody does.”
“Air yo* shore, major,” said the tall
man, “that this is a genuine article, I V
year-ohl, full of shoot!n’ on right, and
cussin.’ and killin’ each other's mulei
and dogs, and it’ll keep on glttin’hotter
and hotter?”
“I have give you the word of an All-
sop, colonel,” said the red-nosed man.
“Do you guarantee, major, that he
won’t git up and run w hen I shoot, and
then sue me in eo’t for damages instead
of cyarin’ the thing on fair and squall
like a gentleman ?”
“You can git yo’ money back, colonel.
If the goods don’t turn out w hat I rep
resented ’em,”
"Fll take yo’ word fob it, major, but
he looks tome like a man who is goin’ to
run like a turkey atmy first fiah. How
ever, I’ve done promised Merlindy, and
I’m goin’ to try him a few shots.”
The tall man drew a big Colt’s revoirrr
from under his coat and cqiencd fin* ou
the man on the barrel. That individual
jumped to his feet, pulled out a big six-
shooter and began blazing away at thii
tall man.
When both weapons had been emptied
amd nobody hit, the man at the other
side of the platform uttered a loud yell.
Jumped up and cracked his heels to
gether, and charged upon the tall main
That gentleman dropped his Colt and
turns’ll to fly, but hLs foe grappled hitn,
and they went down in aheap together,,
pommeling each other with their tirdx
and rolling about on the platform.
Presently they fell off upon the railroad
truck, and the man who had I’cen at
tacked pounded the tall man’s head u;>
and down on the ties and rubbed a few
handful ot coal dust into his moutn.
After they had liecn separated nml the
vTctor had l>cen led away by his friends,
the drummer and the. ml-ncx ed man
Jumped down on the track to look after
the vanquished one. Ho rat up, rnkot
the cinders outof his mouth and wiped
his bloody nose upon his coat sleeve.
“Did she turn out all right, colonel?’*
asked the. red-nosed man.
“She did,” sold the. tall man. “Yo’'
have given me. a squab deal, major. I
couldn’t nsk foh no better, sah.”
“May I Inquire who this man is whom
you attacked?” asked the drummer, ns
he picked up some broken links of the
tall man’s watch chain.
“My friend, Maj. Allwop, here, infohm*.
me tliAt his mime is Rogers, sah.
“Do you mean to say that you tried
to shoot a man without even knowing
who he k>?”
“You will understand, oah, when I ex-
p’oln. My wife Inherited by tho death
of an uncle last Novembnh an estate and
some houses and mules valued at fo*
thousand dollars. Rhe wn« determined,
sah, that our fam’ly should hold up its
head with the beat families in Kentucky.
\V© was able to do this exceptin’ in ono
respect. We have never had no feud in
our faon’ly, and my wife knows what is
expected from a flrst-raite fam’ly in our
state. We didn’t want no new ftud, but
a genuine old rip-snortin’ feud with a
graveyard and one or two haugin’s in it..
My friend, Maj. AJlsop’s faan’ly has been
cyarin’ on a feud with the Rogerses foh *
IS years, anu I bought out his right,
title and Interest In said feud foh $9<J.
Maj. Allsop turned the feud over tome
a few minutes ago and yo’ have seen
me take charge of It, sah. Whan Mu-,
lindy sees me slic’ll be pleased to see wA
can now take our plm-cMnongt ho best:
Kentucky society. Mifl
you kindly