Never shall it be said that I put my hand to the plow and turned back. For that matter never shall it be said of me that I put hand to a plow at all, unless a plow should chase me upstairs and into the privacy of my bed-room, and then I should only put hand to it for the purpose of throwing it out of the window. The beauty of the farmer's life was never very clear to me. As for its boasted "independence," in the part of the country I came from, there was never a farm that was not mortgaged for about all it was worth; never a farmer who was not in debt up to his chin at "the store." Contented! When it rains the farmer grumbles because he can't hoe or do something else to his crops, and when it does not rain, he grumbles because his crops do not grow. Hens are the only ones on a farm that are not in a perpetual worry and ferment about "crops:" they fill theirs with whatever comes along, whether it be an angleworm, a kernel of corn, or a small cobblestone, and give thanks just the same.
THE OUTSIDE DOG IN THE FIGHT
You may sing of your dog, your bottom dog,
Or of any dog that you please,
I go for the dog, the wise old dog,
That knowingly takes his ease,
And, wagging his tail outside the ring,
Keeping always his bone in sight,
Cares not a pin in his wise old head
For either dog in the fight.
Not his is the bone they are fighting for,
And why should my dog sail in,
With nothing to gain but a certain chance
To lose his own precious skin!
There may be a few, perhaps, who fail
To see it in quite this light,
But when the fur flies I had rather be
The outside dog in the fight.
I know there are dogs—most generous dogs
Who think it is quite the thing
To take the part of the bottom dog,
And go yelping into the ring.
I care not a pin what the world may say
In regard to the wrong or right;
My money goes as well as my song,
For the dog that keeps out of the fight!
Mr. Webb, like Charles Lamb and the late Mr. Travers, stammered just enough to give piquancy to his conversation. To facilitate enunciation he placed a "g" before the letters which it was hard for him to pronounce. We were talking of the many sad and sudden deaths from pneumonia, bronchitis, etc., during the recent spring season, and then of the insincerity of poets who sighed for death and longed for a summons to depart. He said in his deliciously slow and stumbling manner: "I don't want the ger-pneu-m-mon-ia. I'm in no ger-hurry to ger-go." Mrs. Webb's drawing-rooms were filled with valuable pictures and bronzes, and her Thursday Evenings at home were a delight to many.
How little we sometimes know of the real spirit and the inner life of some noble man or woman. Mrs. Hermann was a remarkable instance of this. I thought I was well acquainted with Mrs. Esther Hermann, who, in her home, 59 West fifty-sixth Street New York, was always entertaining her many friends. Often three evenings a week were given to doing something worth while for someone, or giving opportunity for us to hear some famous man or woman speak, who was interested in some great project. And her refreshments, after the hour of listening was over, were of the most generous and delicious kind. Hers was a lavish hospitality. It was all so easily and quietly done, that no one realized that those delightful evenings were anything but play to her. She became interested in me when I was almost a novice in the lecture field, gave me two benefits, invited those whom she thought would enjoy my talks, and might also be of service to me. There was never the slightest stiffness; if one woman was there for the first time, and a stranger, Mrs. Hermann and her daughters saw that there were plenty of introductions and an escort engaged to take the lady to the supper room. Mrs. Hermann in those early days, often took me to drive in the park—a great treat. We chatted merrily together, and I still fancied I knew her. But her own family did not know of her great benefactions; her son only knew by looking over her check books, after her death, how much she had given away. Far from blazoning it abroad, she insisted on secrecy. She invited Mr. Henry Fairfield Osborn to call, who was keenly interested in securing money to start a Natural History Museum, he bringing a friend with him. After they had owned that they found it impossible even to gain the first donation, she handed Mr. Osborn, after expressing her interest, a check for ten thousand dollars. At first he thought he would not open it in her presence, but later did so. He was amazed and said very gratefully: "Madam, I will have this recognized at once by the Society." She said: "I want no recognition. If you insist, I shall take back the envelope." Her daughter describes her enthusiasm one very stormy, cold Sunday. Stephen S. Wise, the famous rabbi, was advertised to preach in the morning at such a place. "Mother was there in a front seat early, eager to get every word of wisdom that fell from his lips." Mr. Wise spoke at the Free Synagogue Convention at three o'clock P.M. "Mother was there promptly again, in front, her dark eyes glowing with intense interest." At eight P.M. he spoke at another hall on the other side of the city, "Mother was there." At the close, Mr. Wise stepped down from the platform to shake hands with Mrs. Hermann, and said, "I am surprised at seeing you at these three meetings, and in such bad weather." She replied,
"Why should you be surprised; you were at all three, weren't you?"
She had a long life of perfect health and never paid the least attention to the worst of weather if she had a duty to perform.
There was something of the fairy godmother in this large-hearted woman, whose modesty equalled her generosity. She dropped gifts by the way, always eager to help, and anxious to keep out of sight. Mrs. Hermann was one of those women who sow the seeds of kindness with a careless hand, and help to make waste places beautiful. She became deeply interested in education early in life, and her faith was evidenced by her work. She was one of the founders of Barnard College. Her checks became very familiar to the treasurers of many educational enterprises. She was one of the patrons of the American Association for the Advancement of Sciences, and many years ago gave one thousand dollars to aid the Association. Since then she has added ten thousand dollars as a nucleus toward the erection of a building to be called the Academy of Science. With the same generous spirit she contributed ten thousand dollars to the Young Men's Hebrew Association for educational purposes. It was for the purpose of giving teachers the opportunity of studying botany from nature, that she gave ten thousand dollars to the Botanical Garden in the Bronx.