Lancaster daily intelligencer. [volume] (Lancaster, Pa.) 1864-1928, 1882-10-18
TRUE ECONOMY.
b. EuE11ks ADVICE TO Youxa MEN.

u. EsOkvIE'S ADSACE 10 1VON0 AANs
Tho Bswkeye Man H0fallxes ON the Flight
OF Time and Makes some Very
Sensible sugGestfons.
Hswkeye.
It is we'll. my boy, to save some of your
for old age. Don't waste it all,
and don't use it all up in the pleasures
and tolls and follies of youth. Save some
Of it. Save . good deal of it. In the ex.
pressive dialect of Arkansaw. save up
right smart heap Of it, and you can use it
right peart and still have right consider |
able left for your old age. But save it |
principally from your dissipation, my boy.
Save it by going to bed at ten rather than
by sitting up to drink beer until half-past |
one. Too much sleep is injurious, it is
true, but then fifteen hours sleep will |
harm you less than six hours Of wine sup.
per. Go slow on these things, my boy,
and at sixty you will have ten years Of |
forty-fiye left in Drawn and blood and |
brain.
But don't be SO saving of your youthful
strength that you will have all of it left
at sixty. Because you won't. You may
save it, but it won't be there. 1t will
waste by disuse. Just now is the time
when YOU must work the hardest, but as
told you little while ago, hard work
won't hurt you.
Improve your time, my boy. Put in
every minute in honest hard work. Or
tranquil meditation. or healthful recrea-
ton. That is all I ask you to do. Oh,
"you believe you'll select meditation as a
profession" then, do you? 1t strikes
you that it is easy work to sit and think,
eh? Now, my boy, if you want some
thing easy, you had much better stand
and chop wood. 1t isn't easy to think.
We don't think half as much as we want
to make people believe We do. In fact,
We don't think nearly 80 much as we think
We do. Busy thought and aimless idle
ness are often very similar in external
appearance. Edison, sitting before his
fireless forge, with his hands folded
listlessly in his lap, looking
at nothing, may bo apparently as
idle, even idler, than the man perched ON
the end of a cottonwood log, watching his
cork bob lazi!y in the yellow water Of
sluggish creek. But the results are in
one instance the telephone aud the electric
light, and il the other the asue aud soft
mouthed sucker and catfish four inches
long. Tho one dreams out marvellous in.
ventions that thrill the world with wonder
and multiply commercial activity, aud
gives them to tho eager, waiting world
or at least he sells them to Jay Gould and
Jay Gould sells them to the world, and the
other contracts q malarial fever aud gives
it to his family. 1t is not easy to think
we waste moro time than We use, and the
hours slip away SO noiselessly and easily,
We don't know where they have gone.
Ihave sometimes thought, Telemachus,
if man could only havo always present
with him some constant reminder of the
flight of time if he could have in his room
. great hour glass, laden with just the
equal and exact sands of his life. If he
could every day watch the steadily drop
ping grains, and knew that when they all
ran through, the last grain would just
complete his grave. If when lie closed his
eyes he knew that al. night long the price,
less grains ran through, if in the silent
hours of darkness when he awoke he could
hear them dropping. steadily as drip,
drip, drip of a water clock. II when he
came in from journey he could see how
much of the sands of his life had run out
while he journeyed for pleasure or profit.
II, sometimes, he could stand before it
and watch the swift grains running away
with his life and he could feel that alway
and Away, night and day, sleeping or
waking, fasting or feasting, working or
resting, wherever he went or whatever he
did, no faster, no slower, steadily, pitt
lessly, the sands ran through, and alway
every hour the life heap above fell away
and tho grave below piled up and up. II
he could realize that no thought or care,
or skill or learning could make them run
moro slowly by and by, or add Que light
grain to the measure lneted out and sealed
against his life by the inexcrable fates,
wonder how many Of the dropping grains
be would turn into gold by the alchemy
of his industry?
Pshaw, my son, if you had snch glass
the novelty of the thing would wear ava;
in thirty days. Some night, when you
came in late from toilsome game OF
"draw," so to speak. or q walking match
around billiard taoie. or some popular
nightmare known a. brilliant spectacular
drama, you would look at your warning
hour glass and say, "By George it seems
to me sand is getting distressingly scarce
in tho upper story. Je.ro0- salem How
these boots do hurt my feet. I'd ike te
kill the man that made 'cu.' And you
would be sound asleep in twenty minutes
Reminders? Why, the world is iu!i of re
minders that our lives arc slipping away
Every time you hear the clock strike ten il
is to remind you that you may never hear
it strike eleven. When the Egyptians o
olden time had the ghastly skeltton car.
ried at their feasts, did it cast gloom
over the community? Not a shadow. II
made them merfier. ''See what you arr
coming to-" they shouted, and ate anG
drank like poor relation at his annual
dinner party, to which he was invited tC
fill up. Fill up the party, mean.
You see, my boy, you can't afford tx
waste tine just now. This is your work.
ing time. It may not seem fair, know
that the world should judge you, and your
youth and inexperience by tho hishcs,
standard Of human success and attain
ment, but it does, and we can't change the
way of the world. You must now dc
everything your best, and keep on YOU
company behavior all the time. 1t is thu
man with only ono suit of clothes and a
small salary, Telemachus, who at all time.
must he polite and agreeable and fault
less observer of all points and forms o
etiquette The man worth 500, 600 may
trample over your cOrns, walk across YOU
wife's train, cat pie with knife, aud takt
his soup with swish and swoop tha,
sounds like horse walking il
the mud, and his standing i,
society isn't affected by it. But you
can't afford these expensive luxu
ries on your present salary, my boy.
Thompson, the poet, who wrote 80 much
in praise of early rising, rarely got out of
bed before eleven o'clock, and wrote mos
of these very poems, indeed, while lyin.
In bed. He used to be seen walking, OF
rather lounging about in Lord Burl,ng