Here is a book, on my desk, entitled Sparta. I believe that the Spartans were often respected for their courage.
What is it men fear most? Death?
Ten men will have ten answers.
From the days of the Spartans men have floundered over freedom—spelling it a hundred different ways! The Iroquois had their idea of freedom. The Pilgrim had his. The blacks. The list can go on and on.
Freedom and death... I see they have an ugly affinity.
Nov 1st – 63
The Library
As far back as I can remember I have always watched over my dollars. In Springfield I knew what each month’s expenses amounted to. During my sixteen-year partnership with Billy Herndon, our agreement was fifty-fifty. There never were any problems. Though it is miles to Springfield, I can summon figures. Our last year together, Billy and I earned $2,300 each. We had 63 cases at $10.00 each; we had 20 at $15.00 each, etc. Twenty or twenty-five brought in $5.00. Apart from these combined earnings I added about $1,200 on my prairie circuits. This is a singular improvement over 31¢ a day at farm labor. As farm hand I earned about $100.00 a year, eliminating thunder and lightning, hail, sore muscles, broken ax handles, corns, a chronic failure on the part of farmers to pay their promised payments. City lamplighters do better.
Few in this capitol have ever enjoyed the intimacy old Jenny and I shared, buggy-sharing, spelled out with faithful grunts, special ear signals and soft nuzzlings. No, it wasn’t always money-concern for me. Another asset was Billy’s library—his Kant, Locke, Spencer, Volney, and Emerson.