The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1889-11-20

Presidents Thanksgiving message and
agreed with 1t heartily, as far as Others
were concerned; but somehow 1 couldn't
see how it applied to me. Perhaps
your will say I was selfish, and am
willing to confess I am. The fact is
that when the cake is going around
want to get piece. If I don't get it
feel disappointed. While am glad in
the abstract that others come in for a
share of the cake, in the concrete I am
mad bccauscs it passes me.
But, perhaps, after all, am too sweep
ing in nv conclusions. I don't know
but that there is one person in the world
who is capable of self-sacrifce of high
order, and that is my wife Nellie. Bless
her little heart, am almost willing to
overlook ali the weakness of humanity
for her sake. Why, I've known her to
90 without bread and butter when she
was faint with hunger so that the chill
dren could have an extra slice. That
was three years ago at Thanksgiving
time. The memory of her courage and
self denial makes my eyes wet.
You see, Nellie was always practical
and unselfsh, while I was impracticable
and poetic. Why, if I had her execu-
tive ability I'd have been a millionaire
by this time, cool millionaire, with a
yacht and country house on the Hud-
son. But she was handicapped by her
sex and the children and couldn't exer-
else her natural gifts.
must 60 on, however, and tell my
story. The month preceding Thanks
giving Day of 1885, was the gloomiest
time ever witnessed. We had just ar.
rived in the city from Shandaken, N. Y,
in the Catskills. I was a farmers boy
and Nellie was a farmers daughter. Be-
fore we were married a famous singer
spent the summer in our village. One
night at strawberry festival he heard
me sing, and was kind enough to say
that had an excellent tenor voice, and
with proper culture could command a
good salary as choir singer in New York.
Of course such encouragement fired me
with hope. The farm became distaste-
full to me, and determined to cultivate
my voice instead of cultivating corn.
We had an old-fashioned melodeon in
the house, and with the help of few
lessons the famous singer gave me and
what could learn from hints in the
opening pages of the choir books, made
life burden for the rest of the family
with my do, re, meing every evening. l
made fair progress, too, under the cir
cumstances and Nellie fell in love with
me on account of my voice. remember
distinctly that her favorite was a little
selection from one of Mendelssohn' s
songs without words set to the following
lines:
Still, still with thee when purple morning
breaketh,
When the bird waketh and the shadows
flee;
Fairer than morning, lovelier than the day
Comes the sweet consciousness, am with
thee.
Well, we were married, and for q
time my music was given up. But the
life of farmer fretted me; and took
up my music again, and after two years
hard work at it we moved to the city.
thought in my ignorance of metropolitan
life that I should have no difficulty in
procuring situation, but soon found
out my mistake. In the first place
found that was incompetent. Twas de.
fcient in style. My voice, while strong
and resonant, had not been properly
trained. Then, too, there was no vacan'
cies. Even if I had been competent
there were fifty applicants for every posi-
ton. Before I had been in the city fol-
two weeks I heartily wished myself
hack in Shan6aken aoain