Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1892-01-10

| dam at Minneapolis? It would silence for
! ever the chant of Niagara if you put an
! overshot wheel at the breast of cataract.
| 1t would also silence the overshot wheel, in
about two seconds. And am glad OF it.
Useful things are very useful, sometimes.
But useless things are very useful also,
| sometimes. So where is the difference?
To scatter the Dialecticians.
I champion the cause of the useless for
mine own sake. There has got to be some
place in the reserved seats for the useless
things of this yorld. If you crowd Us all
up in the gallery, we will snap peanuts and
drop our programmes down on your learned
heads all through the performance; We will
split the air with our shrill whistles when
you softly pat your gloyed hands in correct
appreciation, and when we disapprove we
will "cat-ca1l" till your blood runs cold,
and woe be TO the "cop" who comes into the
gallery after we get started. So you see, it
is much better TO scatter the dialecticians
through the audience than to pen us up by
ourselves. We might even break down the
gallery.
It's always hard, troublesome thing to
teach water to run up hill. oh, it can be
done, but it makes no end of money, and
powerful machinery, and fire, and steam,
water gets beyond the power of the pump it
won't keep on going up; it always comes
right back again, in its own old way. 1t
will run up hill of itself, if you let it alone
And it always climbs just as it comes down;
in the easiest, most natural way in the
world. In all the lightness and grace and
beauty of the spray of the leaping cascade;
in the heecy clouds of mist that Drift up
through the sunshine just as naturally and
gently as though it was the only thing in
the world for water to do, to float from the
sea up to the clouds, rather than drop from
cloudland to the earth. Who ever heard Of
rain coming down? Why, it always goes
up. But you can't make it go up, son. 1t
has to be drawn up. Not by a great, noisy,
changing, humping, sucking pump, either.
1t is drawn up lovingly, gently, noiselessly,
by mighty force, strong enough to lift the
ocean from its bed.
Two Kinds of Teachers.
have known some teachers who could
walk ahead of their scholars and lead them
in Just that wav-who could draw them I'D
the steepest heights after them, never hur-
rying them, never worrying, never fretting
them. I know some teachers who are
doing that work to-day, just because they
have Learned the secret of the sun, just be-
cause they have found the secret of His
power, just because they have this earnest
ness and gentleness, this steadfast enthusi-
asm that is the silent soul of their work.
So, too. I have known teachers, in the
family and in the school and in the pulpit,
who walked behind the children with a
club, and roared at them and whacked them
along and drove them up hill-unless the
children broke away and took to the woods
and escaped into the wilderness-with such
scolding and threatening and yelling as a
cowboy uses while be whacks his horned
herd over the alkali plains.
And it is something TO be dcvoutly CRATE
full for, that this "Bull-whacker'' style OF
teacher is out of style in this year of grace.
He ought to be dead and buried. At any
rate he ought to be buried; wouldn't be
particular 10 hair about his being dead.
but I'd stand with all the resolute firmness
Of the patient mule, on his being buried.
See. wasn't it Just last week 1 resolved
that wouldn't preach every time | sat
down to play the typewriter? 1 think it
was either last week or this Well. I'll
have to start over again. This time doesn't
count. Because it isn't my fault. 1 gave
you fair warning at the top of the column
that l was empty as drum, and if you've
ploughed across the whole width OF the
brush lot all the way to this fence: you
can't blame me because you've turned up
nothing but roots, and have jamned the
plough handles into your ribs every other
step.
No Apologies to Offer.
knew it was scrub oak barren when
run the first furrow across it, and didn't
dream you were following me. why
didn't look back and see?" Because, my
son, che that putteth his hand TO the plough
and looketh back is going 10 run f1rrow
like COW path. ''Why didn't I honer,
then?" Because, my boy, the handles were
knocking all the breath had in my system
clear out Of my perishinS frame every time
1 struck a root ''Holler'' back to you? 1
hadn't breath enough to lay the blame of
the poor ploughiHg on the horses, as is my
usual cussed 'em.
Utstam Sonnet.
When as with busy hand you bend to write
Epistles upon business all your own,
Seeking the time of one to you unknown
With what soft phrase your thoughts you
may indite,
Framing your sentences with speech polite,
Set in your offering this precious stone,
That for crude workmanship will all
atone:
In some. sweet folded nook-Just half in
Like a shy wind flower. tinted like the
Coy peeping from its winters bed. moss
damp,
Awaken ed by the soft and mellow horn
OF April Zephyrs, rousing all the camp
or bud and blossom, beauties yet unborn
Right where he'll see it first thing-stick
stamp.
And if you forget this, he won't forget to
forget to answer that letter, don't you for
get that. ROBERT J. BURDETTE.
Cannot Steal His Own