The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1888-02-29

all the day" He could write q good letter,
too, did he write like his own natural self.
But you say, II might write letter
that l thought was very funny. and vet Il
would lot be funny at all" You can tell
o brilliant sunset from burning lumber
yard. You can count the feet OF your poems
en- your 6Dgers, and you know that stetho-
scope and phalanx make not q good rhyme.
You know when thing is funny aud
when it IS fat You know enough to eat
when you are hungry, don't you2 Well,
then, you know when sketch is really
funny and when 1t is only disastrous imi.
tation. Well, the1," you say, you pro-
fess to be funny. Do you think . that
fnnny9' Oh, my tender Telema.
chus. if you dreaded to see the
pepsr that contains NV written words as
do; il you went out into the wilderness aud
dubbed yourself with your pen often
as do; If with heavy heat and streaming
ewes alone and in the darkness Of failure
you buried as many printed jokes, dead in
the hour of their birth, as do, you would
trade your pen for haud-saw and pstnt-
brush and write spectacular dramal Why,
il you ms Ike one-half as many successes as
have made, aud do maks twice as many
failures, the gods will envy you.
GIVING THE POOR CHANCE.
ua
the poor man takes about all the chances
without waiting to have one given him.
III you give him any more chances than he
takes, ne will soon own everything, and
run the Texas man out of the country.
The fact is, we must curtail the poor mans
chacces q little. We must sit down on
him, and hold him down, aud give the
rich man a chance, The poor man has had
things his own way too long. He
has crowded the rich man out.
But for the poor man this Old World
would have cast anchor six thousand years
ago, and be covered with moss and lichens
to-day, like United States man-ot-wsr.
Edgar Allan Poe was the son of strolliog
players; George Peabody was q coy in a
small grocery; Benjamin Franklin, the
printer, was the son OF tsllow chandler;
John Adams was the son of poor farmer;
Clifford, the first editor of the Quarterly
Review, was q common sailor; Ben JON
son-raIe Ben Jonson-was q bricklayer !;
the father of Shakespeare couldn't spell
and couldn't write his own name
neither can you; even his illustrious
son couldn't spell It twice alike; Robert
Burns was child of poverty, the eldest of
seven children, the family of poor bank
rupt; John Milton was the son of q scrive-
ner; Andrew Jackson was the son of a
poor IrisbmGn; Andrew Johnson was q
| tailor; Garfield was boy OF all work, too
poor even to have 3 regular trade; Grant
wss a tanner; Lincoln a keel bostman and
common farm hsnd. and the Prince of
Wales is the son of @ leen. 1t is his mis-
! fortune, not his fault; be couldn't help it,
and he can't help it now. But you see,
my dear boy, that's all there is OF him; he's
| just the Prince of Wales, aud he's only
that because he can't help it. Be thank
full, my son. that you wersn't BORN a
prince; be glad that you didn't strike
| twelve the first time. IL there is patch
on Your knee and your elbows are glossy,
there is some hope for you, but never
| sg8in let me hear you say that the poor
man has no chance. True, poor lawyer,
q Door doctor, poor printer, poor work
| man of any KIND has no chance; he de.
serves to have none, bat The poor man mo-
| nopolizss about all the chances there are.
Put Labsn and Jacob in business to-
| getber anywhere and in shout fifteen
years Jacob will not only own about four
| fifths of the cattle. but he will have mar.
ried about one half his partners family,
Go TO, my son, let us give the rich man 6
chance. ROBERT J. BURDETTE.