The rustler., 1891-12-11
LET Us BE FOOLS"
The Wise Conclusion of Two Pes
simistic Philosophers.

In suburban district Of Chicago there
Is a building known as the "Nest Of
Disappointment" II is an old-looling
structure, OF graysh brick. aud was
once the pretentious home OF n rich
man: but several years ago il was cut
up into Offices. Real estate men, "a
number OF young doctors and lawyer
took rooms there, and it was not long
until the shrewd observers Of the
neighborhood discovered that all o:
fhcm were failures In their several
Ines. After time It was believed
that none but disappointed man
would take up his business abode in
the gray brick house. and out Of that
belief arose the name Of NEST of Dis
appointment
II is with the lawyer that this story
has to deal lie was man of about
forty-hve years Of age. lie had thick
head Of hair and short beard that
grew in gnarls His eyes were OF that
peculiar reflective kind which seemed
ever TO be looking afar of No one
knew anything about him, and doubt
less none Of the ncighbors would ever
have paid the slightest attention TO
him. or at least have made him the
subject of their conversation, had he
not arisen In court aud called pom
pous old justice of the peace an Internal
liar. A sign above this mans door inn
parted to those who might be in search
of information that James Dismukes
was an attorney at law. The furnish
ings of MIR Dismubes' office were no.
ticeably plain, and, as he him
self once remarked, "strikingly
scarce" There were a number of
books on improviscd shelves. but not
many of them held decisions of in.
dietary tribunals or comments on the
''rule of civil action" but were related
60 philosophy and those sharp, merci-
less probings into the breast of man.
One afternoon Mr. Dismuses sat at
his desk meditating. The wind blew
his door open, but he needed II not
The day was beautiful with the mel
lowness of fall. The grass in the park
hard by was turning gray with age
and the German carp that had sur
prised and delighted the children all
summer had been taken out of the
fountain.
'If | could only put my thoughts on
paper" the lawyer muscd But why
can't /? Other men do The world is
full of their written thoughts. Poor,
miserable wretch am l. And why?
because I'm not fool enough To be hap
py. The creation of man was an ex-
periment-his perpctuation is the car.
rying out of scheme of vengeance.
may be wrong in saying this, but |
am not wrong in refusing To be fool
November. There is something in 'he
air to-day that makes me think. Late
autumn is the patron of thought
Spring Is a childhood. with nursery
rhymes and playful fancies; summer is
manhood. warm with the arguments of
life; winter is cold dccay--but autumn
is maturity, the reckoning of the mind,
the sad humor of life, the melancholy
sarcasm OF existence. There is n
laugh in bud; there is a sermon IN n
fallen leaf. In the late autumn we
stop and look back. What do we see?
The impulsive steps OF error and the
false sentiments of enthusiasm. And
yet we taste strange sweetness
standing in the autumn, looking back
There is dreamy delight in the mem
ory OF a lost hope. A joy that dies in its
youth is looked back upon with loving
tenderness; a Joy that lives its full
time and then, palsicd, sinks into the
decay of old age, is recalled with n
shudder What is philosophy? Who is
a philosopher? The pcssimisS who
secs no light flashing through the
darkness Of gloom-depressed world.
or the optimist who smiles as he stands