Iowa voter. [volume] (Knoxville, Iowa) 1867-1874, 1873-06-19
THE MAN WHO DIDN'T.
BY MARY HARTWELL.

BY MARY HARTWELL.
IT seems hard that mans mother, by
he conformation she gives his head, de-
yeloping this bump, suppressing that, may
shape his course to happiness or misery
before he has voice in the matter. Yet
ever do great effects hang on little hooks
of causes. Mr.. Spurzheim tells us if that
little bony process is fiattened whereunder
Hope is supposed to tabernacle, the man
is predisposed to melancholy, to the black
blues, to selfdestruction, in fact.
Nv Tom had brave olive face, but his
fleece must have grown over that bump
depressed, as grass grows over sunken
grave. You see l want to handle Toms
case impartially; to find excuses for him
if can. You have no right to judge
man before looking at all the motives un-
der which he moved.
When Tom was very young, finding
himself in the mud, he determined to
stand high and dry as soon as endeavor
could put him so. He took hold of life
with his might Now every son of Adam
must expect to be turned out OF his garden
once or twice in his lifetime. The trouble
with people is that they expect too much
ofthe world Tom held it only honest of
the world to give him success for his hon.
est endeayor. But the world is just a
'leetle ner," like Barkis, hard listed in
dealing out rewards to beginners.
Toms natural bent was towards journal
ism. So he begun in the chrysalis state OF
carrier, and wriggled through the inter-
mediate stages of printer, reporter, cor
respondent, hoping in time to sport in the
high sun of prosperity, full-spread,
srsen-6acksd editor--a mighty editor, who
should reach all over the nation and
mould the masses. That was Toms ideal
Tom. And / do say, and shall maintain
till my latest breath, it is nobler to point
your arrow at the sun and miss it, than to
spend your life growing vain over your
ability to bring down game flying on a
level with your nose.
Toms peculiar genius was not appre-
ciated by the public. He was progress
sive, independent fellow, but failed to
make himself "the STYLE" He was faith
full reporter, ran up and down whole
Babels of stairs, played Nero over fires
till he could scent flame for miles, outran
the coroner to every murder, and knew
everything that was going on almost be-
fore it happened. But there were things
my spirited Tom did not do. He never
borrowed Jenkins quill, and went to Mrs.
Grundy's ball with Webster's Unabridged
under his arm to squeeze dry Of adjectives
on the dry-goods there whirled before
him. He never whispered to the public
how lovely the refined and elegant Mrs.
A looked in nd-papered f1ounces. how
Miss Florence M ON this occasion found
something to wear in the shape Of trans
cendent robe lie sose, finished by an elabo-
rate dress-coat with tails en- train, and the
stately Misses B. disported themselves
in superb and overpOwering point shawls
But he was father to many Of those
startling paragraphs, now SO common to
the reporter that they cease to shock you.
Instead of telling you that Patrick Muir
ply fell off train and was killed, he
would dish you up a spicy item about
Mr.. Murphy's diving from the top of q
Car after his hat when running at thirty
miles an hour, and his sons filially wear
ing that hat at the funeral next day.
Unfortunately, just as Tom was coming
out nervous correspondent, he fell in
love. Now, generally speaking, it is good
to fall In love. The best mental exercise
you are capable of, is loving. 1t isn't
the "saddest OF all the sad things of life"
as Mr. Millard sings. Nor life, nor death,
nor principalities, nor powers, can sepa-
rate our souls from the crowns which rest
on them when we learn this selfrenunci-
alton. You had better even love hui
man grind-stone, and have it wear you to
intense keenness and sensibility, than
tumble about rusty and blunt all your
days. But no two people look at Q thing
in the same light. My ardent, impassion-
ed Tom expected as large return from
his investment in matrimony as he did
from his investment in business. He
hadn't learned large charity for his kind.
He was young. And truly few have
learned it when they are old.
d He tore his hair, and neglected. his
work, 1.-the angel was inhis arms. Then
after brief revel, he stared to discover
that angels take a deal Of pluming, are
capricious in their desires, and fret to fly
higher than single poor newspaper
mans quill will carry them. If Tom had
married his grandmother, or the strong
minded woman Of the present day, with
her straight skirts and umbrella, or il he
had met the queen of women, that joyous,
true, passionate, strong, mobile creature,
who takes hold of the world and blesses
her whole passage through 1t, how diff
ferent might Toms record have been
But he married Ada. Ada Had bright
hair, but It shone like the sln-ab0ve
frequent storms. She was small, tut her
wants were large. She wasn't an intel
lectua1 woman; no blue was Ada, but she