The progressive farmer. [volume] (Winston, N.C.) 1886-1904, 1894-06-19

never could understand why 1t was
that people should spend their lives
aiming at such trifing things as they
do. Some want fame and some want
fortunes, some want this and some
want that, and after all these things
are gained what have they9 Vanities,
tri1es-nothing more. One original,
high. born, sublime thought is worth
them all, What does it matter to me
what you or any one think and say of
met What does it matter if the world
loves me o hates me9 What difference
does it make in the sum total of human
e%xistence3 These things are too small
to think about. We should be interested
in eternal truth, in going towards the
goal-the ultima thule of our existence.
Ha! the world is too little to trouble an
immortal mind. We now love or hate
according to some theory advanced
and propagated by some previous mind.
IT they had taught us that to hate was
to love, and vice versa, we'd do the OPP
posite of what we now do-we'd love
the wrong and hate the right. It's all
a matter pre- arranged, pre-destined,
perhaps. This should not be. So an
independent mind has a tough time
under present conditions. Genius is
prosecuted, the coming heroes are the
present cranks. ''They are not what
they seem" to our tickle visions. But
after all, what is man but a bundle of
inconsistency After my opinion, and
Spencer's opinion, and Darwin's opin-
ion, and Huxley's opinion, and Bacon's
opinion, and Pope's opinion, and your
opinion, is all combined, what do we
know7 All men are similar, yet each
man is different from every other man.
A contradiction, you say we'll, man is
a contradiction. We believe one thing
to day and the very opposite to NOR
row. We curse in the morning and
pray at night. We were Wings, then
Democrats, now Populists, we'll be
angels bye and bye. The hardest thing
I ever tried to do was to think-it's
harder work than blowing or hoeing.
To think of things aside from the regu-
lar routine of affairs, to think of great,
eternal things, ah, what a task. That
is why WI accept conclusions rather
than try to solve them ourselves. We
are all children in great affairs. We
are afraid to think and to write all the
inmost thoughts of our hearts. Had
we a book ~portraying the real echoes
and threads and substance and heart
throbs of a life, how captivating it
would bel Our literature is modelled
to suit the taste of the times-soiled
taste, to be true. Give us the true his
tory of a human heart and the readers
eye will glisten with tears and with
joy. Give us the true story of a life,
and angels would weep to read it.
Paint the longings and dreams of a
human soul, and the very trees would
bow on seeing it. We have no authen.
tic drama of life, Shakespeare tried to
write one. but it's not perfect. Idon't
say that it is possible to pen or paint
every feeting phantom Of the mind, but
1 do say that we ought to have an en-.
~cYclopedia Of the soul, a harpstring OF
the heart, where we could read and
play and learn. Soon they'll lay us in
our lonely graves and the world will
wag away and forget us. o, that we
could start only a single, glorious
thought rolling down the ages by
which we could be remembered. II
every one who ever lived had thrown
out a new thought or a new song upon
the world, what a different literature
we would havel Let us make it on IN
written law of life that every n must
do some special act or think some
special thought by which they can be
remembered. Names are too soon for
gotten. Deeds are never forgotten.
Give us deeds and thoughts as memen
toes of lost loved ones. Put not names
on the tomb stone, but deeds and chill
dren of the mind-thoughts. o, thai
I could climb to some point in life above
the shaggy crags of prejudice, above
the frail, bitter tissues of craftsmanship,
above the thorns Of a one, idead, one
eyed righteousness, climb into the
pure atmosphere of truth and eternal
majesty, climb where manhood il
mighty and justice is might, climb
into that hallowed harbor of peace
where all men love all men, where
faith and hope are kings and queens,
and where the ladder of humanity has
no high and low, no great and small
steps, bat all alike, starting from the
same point, seeing the same sights and
reaching the same destiny. Men Of 10