Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1890-08-10
OUR STORY TELLERS.
A Column of Short Sketches That
AmuSe as Well as Instruct.
THE HONEST MANS COTTON BALE.
Mark Twain is Not Without Honor Save in
His Own Country.
W0MEES RIGHTS GIVEN A SET BACK
THE HONEST MANS COTTON BALE.
wONEEs RIGHTS GIVEN A SET BACK
WRITTEN ron THE D1srArcH.I

rwRrrTEN ron THE DIsPATcH.1
A gaunt old fellow with sandy hair and
with streaks Of tobacco 'juice" on his
vhiskers came down a sandy lane, driving
q yoke of lean steers attached to screakIng
wagon loaded with a shabby bale of cotton.
A nicely dressed man overlook the old fel-
low and pleasantly asked which way he was
going. L..
will 60 thster way (again pOinting) when 1
"You are going to sell your cotton, I sup
pose"
"Yas, amt got but q little dab, but 1
lowed I'd 60 an sell it to got few yards of
csliko an some snuff fur muir an the gals
an little modikin of fat tobacco fur me
an the bows. Takes a mighty heap Of
scrstchin' fur q honest man to git along
these days; but il want thster way befo' the
wah. Then q honest man got pay fur whut
he done, but be don't now, I kin tell you. "
'Yes, poor man has hard time of it. !"
Especially ef he's honest" the old fell
low reioined. EFF want no honester than
the majority of folks, 1 could make money
hand over fist an my wife an the gals could
have all the caliko an snuff they want, an
me an the boys could chaw fat tobacco all
day an set back, as the feller says, an spit
over the slash board. But as it is 1 jest
have to grind along with mighty little snuff
an ealiko an with chaw of fiat tobacco
now and then. Want thater way befo' the
wah."
"HOw much do you expect to get for your
bale of cotton?"
"Jest as much as the raskils air mind to
give me. They don't give much in these
L. hw1ks hate Nv
befo' the wah. Then a honest man mout
expect to git whut his stuff was wuth, but
the sun has furever set on them thar days.
Whar have you been TOP"
"Have been out to see if could catch q
few fish,"
''Well, some men can afford to fling away
their time thater way, an L could befo' the
wah, but honest man amt got no show
now"
"How many bales did you raiser"
"OnIy two-feller tuck one of 'em fur
whut he lowed was a debt, but didn't rally
owe him a cent, but honest man KANT ex-
pect nothin' these here days. Had a son to
go away frum home some time ago-vent to
a town, but the folks was SO dishonest be
couldn't make a Twin, so he come back
home to his dad what knows won't cheat
him."
less better day will come after q while"
mo, not fur a honest man. Thar was
once bright day. but it was long time
ago, beso' the wah."
"How far do you go to sell your cotton?"
'Tain't fur frum here, now-right over
yander.''
"As have had some experience in buy
ing cotton will 60 over and see that they
don't cheat you"
"wush you would. All, laws q massy,
you don't know how much good it do me to
meet honest man; an when i git back
home I'll tell muir an the gals an the boys
that not quite all the honest men amt dead,
even ef il is dun after the wah."
They soon came to sort of warehouse, on
the bank of bayou, where there were sew
eral men engaged in weighing cotton. One
of them, turning to the old fellow, asked
him if he wanted to sell.
"Yas, lowed did eff could git ANYTHING
like far price, but I don't hardly expect
these days"
weight it"
"Humphr exclaimed one of the buyers,
'this is the heaviest bale for the looks OF it
ever saw"
"Yas, low ground cotton" said the old
fellow. 'f1t don't look so mighty heavy but
it is powerful to weigh. They tell me that
it's the best cotton thar is.
''Yes, that's all right. but we'll just cut
this bale open and see"
"No, it amt wuth while. I'll take 20
word fur i"
"That's all right, but I won't take
yours"
Thebale was torn open and in it was
found a sycamore log.
"Wall, I declar," the old fellow ex-
claimed, 81 don't see how that got in thar.
But it is jest like some folks ter slip around
an try to injure mans character. 1t has
been thster way ever sense the wah."
Such is Fame.
There are still few of the old settlers at
Florida, Monroe county, No., who were
there when Mark Twain was boy going to
q small country school at that place.
Florida is a wee backwoods settlement with
nothing to recommend it but the humorist
it turned out and the great catfish that are
caught there in Salt river. Some of the old
timers remember the lank, good-for-nothing
Sam Clemens, who used to fish day in and
dav out the summer through, and spend the
winter telling stories at the grocery. There
is one OLD fellow there at least, however, to
whom the fame of Americas greatest humor-
list has never come. A stranger was stop
ping at Florida recently and the old man
was pointed out to him as one of the
pioneers.
"Where was Mark Twain born?" he
asked the old fellow, after chatting with
him awhile.
MARK Twain?" he queried, in astonish-
ment, "who's hep
"Why, the humorist," explained the gen.
tleman, amused at the density Of the old
fellows ignorance.
"Youmerist, eh? Never heerd o. him,
an guess eff he'd ever lived nigh here I'd
@ knowd il.
"His name was Samuel Clemens; don't
YOU remember him?"
The old fellow scratched his head
thought ully, and in a moment his memory
helped him out.
"Sam Clemens, /" he said, "Oh, yes, 1
remember Sam. He left here young though,
an everybody said that he was the good
fer-nothinest boy they ever seed. Sam was
a long spindle-shanked feller, an 1 never
seed him do lick work in all his days.
But, ez 1 said, be left here young, an 1
never heerd what become O. him. Peni-
tentery mos prob'ly."
"a
There Was One Present.
us there a man in all this audience" de-
msnded the female lecturer on woman's
rights, fercely, that has ever done any
thing to Tighten the burden resting on his
wife's shoulders? What do you know of
Woman's work? Is there a man here, she
continued, folding her arms and looking
over her audience with superb scorn, that