IV.
Don't you grumble at the weather! Don't you growl around at fate!
In this world of life and labor, you must fish or cut the bait;
And if here you're always fretting o'er each little sob and sigh,
You will hardly relish heaven when you reach the Bye and Bye.
Enough Heaven for Him.
"Go 'way, man!" said an obsarvant Logan county darkey. "Doan't yuh come en talk to me erbout gittin' rich er bein' pooah! Nary one ob dem things bodders me. Ef perlitical campaigns'll jes' las' all de time en canderdates run all de yar roun', dis worl'll be hebben ernuff fer me!"
"Keep Away from Trouble."
Keep away from trouble,—
Keep away, I say!
He will double, double,
If you walk his way;
Go the other path-way;
Pass the rascal by;
Keep your face a-smiling
For the glory-sky!
Caught on the Fly.
The man that can't find any heaven in this world of sunshine has no promise of getting a chance to hunt for it in the next.
David said in his haste that all men are liars; and the Good Book does not record that he took it back after he had plenty of time to think it over.
The sublime faith that moves mountains and conquers kingdoms is frequently helpless and hopeless against the clatter of a garrulous tongue.
The Darky's Heaven.
I sho'ly doan't know
Whut soht ob a place
Dat de Lawd's fixin' so
Foh his own culled race;
But ef he "in dat day"
Wants de dahkeys ter catch,
Give 'em banjoes ter play
In a big millon patch!
Millon patch thet's so long
Dey can nevab git cross it,
En a feller not strong
Jes' purtendin' ter boss it;
Whar nebber's a dog
Ter molest whut yuh swipe,
En wharebber yuh jog
All de millons ah ripe!
No Room for Bankruptcy.
"Things ah sholy lookin' up ahroun' de cabin dese heah days!" said the jubilant darkey. "With watah-millons crowdin' de cohn-rows full, de cotton laid by, en fohty canderdates runnin' foh office, de bankrup'cy cou't am moah den foh hund'ed miles away, shuah!"
Minnows and Big Fish.
In the happy days of childhood,
By the river's rushing tide,
Where the crystal waters murmured
Over all the ripples wide,
It was perfect joy to angle
Through the spring time's laughing day
Though we only caught the minnows
And the big fish got away.
'Twas no matter how we waited,
How we watched with anxious eyes,—
For the finny tribe to yield us
Captures of enormous size;
There was always disappointment
Filling us with deep dismay,
For we only caught the minnows
And the big fish got away!
And it's much the same in manhood!
As we line the stream of life,
Fishing for the fame and fortune
In the waters full of strife,
It's no matter how we angle
As the young years turn to gray,
We can only catch the minnows
And the big fish get away!
But the sport, the sport, is royal,
And it never had a match!
So it's really unimportant
As to what we lose or catch!
Let us use our highest efforts
Till the Father calls to say:
"What a splendid mess of minnows
Though the big fish got away!"
Little Sermons.
Christianity and religion are great things, but a holy life knocks the spots off them both in the long run.
Wealth comes from toil and sacrifice, but the treasures of the heart are vaccinated with love and are the parents of all real happiness.
There is no use to spend any time in worrying about the next world. Take care of the world you have, and the next one will take care of itself and you, too.
It's better to whistle than cry, brother,
It's better to whistle than cry;
The day may be gloomy and dreary
And black with the storms of the sky;
But whistle your heart to the sorrows!
They'll smile as they hurry you by!
It's better to whistle than cry, brother,
It's better to whistle than cry!
Plenty of Exercise.
"Mary Jane," said Farmer Jim to his wife as he pondered over the letter just received from their boy Silas who was away at College; "Mary Jane, what does Si mean about all this 'tarnal athletic business he's a-talkin' of?"
Mary Jane had been a school-teacher before she married Farmer Jim, and so she quickly explained:
"Why, he means dumb-bells and Indian clubs and trapezes and such things, to give exercise to the boys, father."
"Wull, I'll be dumb-belled ef I had him out yander in the cottonfield a-choppin' out the crab-grass, I guess he'd git all the exercise he wanted!" snorted Farmer Jim.
"Away With the Sorrow."
Away with the sorrow,
The troubles and tears!
We'll laugh with the morrow
Through all of the years.
Away with the errors
That scourge as a rod!
Our sins and our terrors
Shall vanish with God.
The sob of our sadness
Shall cease bye and bye;
Away to the gladness,—
We're bound for the sky.
The Real Article.
"Doan't yuh talk ter me erbout yoh tahrpin en clam-bakes en yoistah fries!" exclaimed a recently arrived Guthrie coon. "Des' gib me sweet-'taters smotahed in 'possum gravy en all baked brown like we uster hab 'em down in ole Mississip! Go' way, niggah! Dat wuz high-libben like de real ahticle, I done tole ye!"