Part 3

These are the kind of women worth while; these are the kind that more than do their part in sustaining a great government. Her lot is not a pleasant one, but she hands down to posterity a better and more substantial foundation for better government than any class of women in our nation; her life is an open book where the entries are made on each day's pages. On page after page you can see where the tears have fallen, where the struggle has been so keen and bitter that hope had almost fled; but turn the page and you will find renewed hope. The ever-listening ear has heard the words bathed in grief and the answer came, "Blessed are they that mourn for they shall be comforted." How a few dollars from some good-hearted philanthropist would ease the way for this poor little struggling woman. Why is it when she has reached the point in life where she should expect the most the least is at hand? She has passed the thirty-eighth mile post, with the odds strongly against her. The system is torn down more rapidly than it can be built up. Everything seems to combat against her and endeavor to overwhelm her, but sorrows, discouragements, trials, hardships and heartaches with their utmost collective strength have not been sufficient to thwart or encompass her. Every one has been defeated, the cost has been gigantic, it has stooped her shoulders, chiseled deep creases in her brow and cast snow among her locks, robbed her of comforts due her and strewn old age where youth should be. The sad face still smiles and with an unconceivable determination she meets every foe in the great battle field of life and crushes them.

She does it from close application of that wonderful story of love that is found in the fifth chapter of the Gospel of St. Matthew from the third to the twelfth verses inclusive. The greatest solace to aching hearts the world has ever known. The struggle would have never been met and conquered if she had depended on her own strength, she needed a higher source to guide her and in every struggle the lowly man of Galilee stood beside her and when the cross became so heavy that she stumbled and was ready to fall, his loving arm was ready to shield and sustain her.

With all her pains and trials there came into her life one night the greatest sorrow of all, and although the load she had carried far overtaxed her strength she had to bear another and heavier one. Her little sweetheart boy of nearly two years old came toddling in one day with the cruel marks of a fatal sickness on his sweet little face, and after three days and nights of long vigil the tired mother laid down to rest, and as she slept on a pillow bathed with tears the pure little innocent soul was gathered into the arms of angels and carried away. Years have passed, but the pain lingers and when the thoughts go back to the silent form in the little white casket the tender heart of this pure woman is so engulfed in sorrow that it seems it is entirely beyond all human endurance and patience. It is then this still, small voice she has known so long, again speaks and says: "Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden and I will give you rest."

* * * * *

How her dear heart did ache when the death angel trod And took back her boy to his maker and God; No sorrow nor pain nor heart aches nor tears Are ever more known where he takes these small dears.

There is something so sad in the valley of death, When the heart stops its beat and there's no longer breath! That angels must come to ease up the pain, And open the soul to let the tears drain.

How long are the years and how many it takes Before there is peace from the burning heart aches! The home is so lonely so silent and still There is something gone out that nothing can fill.

His little things stand where he left them one day, The little toy dog all ready for play, The big choo choo train and the horse he called Bill, All wait for the hand that is silent and still.

GRATITUDE.

Few people care to listen to your sorrows, trials and burdens if you are not succeeding. If you succeed, everybody is grabbing for the stock no matter how well filled with water it is. They point with pride at the successful man as he saunters by; he can do a great many things that are shady, but on account of his success and prominence they are hushed up and never rise above a whisper; he's dined and wined; gets cut prices on everything he consumes; rebates from the railroads and special privileges in the churches. But take the poor fellow that each day's debts eats up his pay roll and we never hear of his fine qualities until we read his obituary.

If you will take a few leisure moments and look up the meaning of the word "gratitude," you will find that there are few words that surpass it in quality, love and kindness. It clusters near the soul and is properly a virtue. In this life it is very hard to be misunderstood and undervalued by those we love, but this too in the journey from the cradle to the grave we must learn to bear without a murmur, for it's a tale often repeated.

Any one who has given their time, talent and attention serving the dear people, either as a Town Trustee, member of the School Board, Mayor, or any of the petty offices of small towns and villages, used his best judgment in endeavoring to meet every issue honestly, fairly and squarely, wins for his gratuitous services the everlasting displeasure of his constituents.

No matter how hard you strive or how honest you may be there come up little intricate issues where there is no middle course and no matter what stand you take some people charge you with graft and dishonest motives. Any one who can serve for one term and is so unfortunate and foolish as to accept another, has acquired a character so colored that it takes from ten to fifteen years in our best Sunday Schools to wash out the stains.

Don't ever feel elated or think you are popular because you are elected and people call you alderman, for the first thing they will do will be to slip out that pleasant, sweet sounding word "Alderman" and put in "Grafter" with the thumbscrews set. They'd call you a grafter if they personally know the treasury had been depleted for fifteen years. My, the pleasures of a gratis councilman!

I have heard of people losing their minds for long intervals and then suddenly regain them and I have often wondered if they had been favored with an aldermanic pleasure and the mind commenced to slip into space, I wonder if when the cog alderman appeared if it wouldn't cause such a jolt that it would clear the whole mental atmosphere. Perhaps there is one redeeming feature and if it wasn't for some consolation the pictures and scenes would be so indelibly impressed that you would be able to recall them long after you'd said "Amen."

The spirit of revenge and retaliation were never very deeply imbedded in my make up. The seed being lightly sown I used the harrow instead of the cultivator and got it out. I am glad I did; it has helped me to get a good night's rest instead of fondling and caressing discolored orbs that might have come in sudden contact with solid and knotty obstacles.

I bought a small business one time from a devout Presbyterian; I had the greatest confidence and trust in him, which I had a sad right to have. If false colors are carried we must find it out because they carry no notice to warn us. Well, anyway, he spread the tempting menu of his careful preparation in great shape. He was pleasant, courteous and very entertaining. The way he figured up the invoice you'd thought mathematics was his specialty. His tongue kept pace with his pencil and after everything was figured up he brought up the "Bonus Good Will" part and I really thought he was letting me do him a favor by giving him one hundred iron men. You see I wanted his good will along with everybody else's.

I am glad I learned about this "Good Will" business. All told "Good Will" and "Bonuses" have cost me nine hundred and thirty-three dollars thirty-three and a third cents. Don't try to fool me on "Good Wills" again; they're a drug on the market, very unsaleable and unpopular to your humble servant.

After I paid the "Good Will" price and everything was agreeably settled I started in with my maiden business. Going through the bags and some other stuff in the back room a few days afterwards, I discovered bags invoiced and paid for at one hundred pounds shy. "Shy," I said, and he a Christian! This taught me that there are eighty and ninety pound Christians. The loud smelling, decaying and life moving gunny sacks contained prepared meats for poultry. I quit in disgust and went into the front department; a fellow stepped in and said, "How is business?" and I answered "Rotten." A frank acknowledgment of a painful truth.

Other things ran about the same; the horses were sold as unblemished, sound as a dollar, etc., and mind you, he a Christian and ministers dropping in every few days and talking and planning how to increase the congregation. My, I'm glad I used that harrow! When I sold out the business, I marked down experiences one thousand dollars. I felt pretty blue after I had lost the thousand bones I worked hard to get, and it used to be when I got the blues I eased my mind with graveyard poetry; pardon me for inserting it here.

If I should die tonight how few would care; Perhaps some heart would ache, some one somewhere, Some might cast a lingering look, a tear And tremble with emotion at my bier, But before many days would pass away, Before my silent form would turn to clay, I'd be forgotten and alone, And not a heart to ache or moan. Oh! this bitter, lonely life's a snare, The kind friends you hear so much about are rare. Some may mean it in their hearts but feign And measure men by dollars not by brain.

A friend came to me one time and said he was in pressing financial straits and asked me to loan him fifteen dollars for two weeks. I granted the request and the loan was made. I thought I was familiar with the calendar and knew when two ordinary weeks ended, but those two weeks were the longest I have ever known. Fortnight after fortnight passed and no end came. Long and endless weeks of this kind might be all right for the man facing the electric chair, but they had no solace for an individual anxious to get married and needing the husky "Simoleans" to furnish a cage for his waiting bird.

One day I met the overdue biped and I said, "How about it?" I was young then and I thought I could glide in as easy this way as well as any phrase I had in my limited vocabulary. "Well," he said, "I'll tell you what I'll do. I know you are about to plunge in the matrimonial sea and I have a proposition to offer you. I have a good standard make of organ that I don't need and if you will give me forty-five dollars and forget about that previous fifteen we will call the transaction closed and drop the curtain."

"All right," I said, "here is your money."

That organ may not be in existence yet, but it's in my memory fresh as ever. I couldn't play it, for it was all I could do to carry a tune when it was tied in a bag. I had no wife to play it and I couldn't keep it and get married, I was in a desperate condition one day when I walked into a hardware store, that is a store, you know, where they keep ware that is hard, frying pans, dish pans, bread pans, etc., you know what those things are for. "Well," I said to the village wit behind the case, "I'll trade you that organ for enough household paraphernalia to cook with, take care of enough viands and stuff or whatever you call it, to keep two people about to start out together; each now separate and apart but very anxious to be united." "Agreed," he said, "hand over that list you've got with the articles on and I'll have them ready in a short time."

Funny, isn't it, how the wind is tempered to the shorn lamb, but how about the one ready to be shorn when there isn't even a zephyr blowing. Well, the deal was transacted, exchange made, and that is how I got my household goods when I married dearie. The financial report read like this: Actual cash in organ, sixty dollars; actual worth, forty-five dollars; second actual value in organ, forty-five dollars; actual value of pots and pans twenty-five dollars, experience and pleasure of making a two weeks' loan, thirty-five dollars. This was not putting a premium on "Bliss" for a fellow just getting ready to carry the matrimonial load.

The weight would have been some lighter if that weasened faced Dutchman had not worked off on me a left handed frying pan for a right-handed bride, and was so extremely liberal on the good deal he had made that he threw in a second hand mouse trap when the new ones sold six for a dime. This was the first time I saw tears in my wife's eyes. The fountain was opened and they flowed freely. Those tears were trivial to the tears we've in shed later life, but those first tears moved me to almost unconsolable grief and the emotion caused a flow of poetry. It's not very long and will not tire you much, so I will slip it in here as a filler.

Cheer up, little darling, You know my love is true, And nowhere in this great big world Is a sweeter girl than you. I have loved you always Trust me fully, dear, Let me be your shining star I'll sparkle when you're near. And all along our pathway We'll never pluck a thorn, But will pluck the roses In life's dewy morn, Roses are more fragrant, They'll give us better cheer And the thorns we'll cast aside, They are worthless, dear.

When I was a County Clerk and exceedingly busy pushing the quill over the big records, a M. E. Minister came in one day and accosted me with that word that arouses confidence. Brother, he said, we are figuring on a short order annex to the church, (remember that word SHORT?) and we, of course, couldn't slight you and if you will kindly donate as liberally as possible the Lord will bless you abundantly, for you know he loves a cheerful giver, and etc., and etc. Well, I responded. When you get your subscription list in these parts drop in and I will help you.

I know what an annex to some of the churches without or with cook stove means. It seems nowadays, as the prophecies are being filled, some churches deem it necessary to feed the stomach before the soul, realizing, I presume, a full stomach is a twin brother to a big heart. They beg the food and the utensils to serve it in from uncheerful givers and then dispense it cautiously and sparingly, the more sparingly the more money for the Lord. When the ice cream is served they forget all about scriptural measure of "Heaped up and running over" and run it under. If one dish of scriptural measure can be stretched into four dishes of worldly measure, there is forty cents instead of ten. High finance, you see! I've often thought a society of this kind that would squeeze down the measure on ice cream procured at a minimum cost, would bear watching if they were running a milk wagon with a pump near. If any one else gets money in this way they call it an unearned increment. What would Jesus call it? I really would be afraid to express my thoughts at that kind of a meeting for fear they'd request the parcel post.

In a few days the brother dropped in and hoisted from his inside pocket the subscription list and handed it to me. I glanced over it casually, as is natural in such cases made and provided, to see who were the cheerful givers. After concluding what I thought was a liberal donation and really beyond what a man of my means should give I put down forty dollars and handed the paper back to him. The ungentlemanly gentleman took it and looked at it and said, "Well, we expected much better than this from you." You know what feelings ebb and flow within you when you get a snub like this. I could feel the Irish blood chasing the English blood at a hazardous speed, but I said nothing and was glad again of the early use of that harrow.

JUST POEMS.

The Dog.

Of all the beasts beneath the sun There is no other, not a one, That clings to man in sweet and bitter As faithful as the canine critter.

When fortune smiles upon its crest And all your toil is richly blest The loyal dog is near at hand For slightest duty or command.

When poverty comes stalking in And you have lost your precious tin, The good old dog is just the same In dire distress or glittering fame.

In tattered rags or spick and span He has a truer heart than man, And when you meet most keen defeat His sympathy is there to greet.

When you are old and had your day, With feeble limbs and head of gray, And angels come to take you home, The good old dog is last to roam.

He'll watch beneath the stars at night Beside your grave a sadful sight, And wait and wait for many a day, When faded flowers have blown away.

A dog's great love is most sublime, It lingers near the word divine, And intertwines from him above, For dog turned around is God and love.

* * * * *

The Booze.

Oh the ones who drink the booze, You can tell it by their flues, The torrid heat within flames up the nose. At first they're moderate drinkers, And become the same as thinkers, And what a sight for pity ere the close.

Chorus.

The booze, the booze, Any way you choose, No matter how you figure it you lose.

How many homes that suffer, When they shelter such a duffer, Whose presence causes heartaches, tears and blows, But you can always tell 'em If you can't then you can smell 'em, But if all the signs should fail you there's the nose.

If you only take a drop You know you'll never stop, Don't you realize that dynamite explodes, Better take an inventory, Before you're blown, no not to glory, But to where they ignite quickly, Jimmy Rhodes.

What's the matter with your clothes, Or do you for artists pose, Don't you ever meditate or think There's enough loam in your hair To rob an acre bare, Take an invoice before another drink.

Stop, my friend, don't be a slave, Do not fill a drunkard's grave, Be a man from birth until close, Come to him, the Galilean, He will make your future clean, He's the one to take the add from off your nose.

* * * * *

What's the Difference?

It matters not, so some folks say, Where rests the form when 'neath the clay. There is no choice when the heart is still, Some always say and always will.

This may be true when we're forgot, And aught remains to mark the spot, But a silent stone that stands all time, With letters cold to tell mankind.

Some may not care where rest their bones, In foreign lands or near their homes, Where tender hearts can shed the tear And bathe the roses on the bier.

I'd rather rest 'neath shady trees, That beautify and kiss the breeze With velvet grass spread over the plot, With lilies and forget-me-not.

* * * * * The Steering Wheel.

'Twas a party blithe and gay, On a joy ride as they say, Gliding many miles away from home. Midnight long was by They were coming in on high When suddenly there was an awful moan.

The steering wheel went wrong, the papers said, One was badly injured, three were dead. The same old story neatly woven in a tale, The sadness of the scene behind the vale, And not a line or word to make you think, What had put the wheel upon the blink.

The verdict of jury, so they say, Said the steering wheel was loose and had too much play; But by chance some people looking around, Some real and newer evidence was found, 'Tis evidence you find and seldom fail If you let the ribbon bottle tell the tale. So in the name of justice, as I feel, Why not exonerate the wheel.

* * * * *

Such High Taxes, Gee-Whilaker.

Meadow larks, as you have undoubtedly noticed, warble many different songs. They sound like this to me: One says, "Here is your homesick girl." Another, "Light the light, it is gone down." Another, "Here is your English preacher." Another, "The smeeking smock bird," and others, from which the following poem is written, say, "Such high taxes, Gee-whilaker."

As I stood in the yard of our high taxed home, And filled my lungs with pure ozone, My eye went wandering far and nigh, And I saw a meadow lark flitting by.

He flew to a post for a moment's rest, And gazed a while both east and west, And then soared on, going higher and higher, Till he perched way up on the court house spire.

From a bird's eye view of quaint renown, He sized up the modern Julesburg town, The stand pipe built on the court house square, Is an old eye sore with a record rare. The power house hid from the passer by Must been for economy, heat or pie? The city sewer, electric lights, Cement side-walks and high school sites, Was picturesque and nice to heed, But sad for the one that held the deed.

He raised his head as he ceased to note, And out from the depths of his golden throat His voice did peal as he said with a whirr, Such high taxes, Gee-whilaker.

* * * * *

To the Mrs.

I am going to take a kiss, And I know it's not a miss, But before I miss my kisses, I will take them from the Mrs.

Kisses from the dear old Mrs. Are the sweetest kind of kisses. But if the Misses kisses, Then there will be kisses Mrs.

Just as long as Mrs. kisses, There's no trouble with the Misses But let the Misses kisses And something's doing Misses Mrs.

* * * * * Don't Procrastinate.

Don't wait till tomorrow, For joy or sorrow, And miss the golden today. For every minute, Your heart's not in it, There's something slipping away.

'Twas Jesus who said, 'Ere his spirit fled, On the cross at Calvary, That he who had hope, Need never grope, For the better things to be.

So don't never worry, And fret and flurry, For things that's not for you, But hammer away, At life's forge today, For things that are good and true.