The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1897-06-30
BILL ARP'S LETTER.
Bill Talks About Birthdays.
Atldnta Constitution.

tullE ivy SSAS
twice a year to me now How every
thing shrinks as we neal the goal.
The trees are not so tall nor the hills
as they used to be. That is very
natural, and is nothing new, but how
is it that even time should shrink
time that is so exact, so Interchangeable
and that is measured by the same
ticking of the clock, and that is meas
ured by the rising and setting Of the
sun and that by the revolving earth
and that by its annual course around
the sun? I cant see why time should
seem to shrink at all, or if any change,
it should expand, for we can do more,
learn more, in a day than when We
were children. Seventy-two years ago
to-day 1 came into this %sublunary
world and have had my share of JOY
and sorrow, and am content with my
lot in life. As David said, "The
lines have fallen to me in pleasant
places. Yea, | have a good heritage
But poor old Job took it hard when
Satan despoiled him, and he cursed
his day and said in the anguish of his
soul: "Let the day perish wherein I
was born. Why died I not from the
womb, for then I should have lain
still and been at rest, for there the
wicked cease from troubling and the
weary arc at rest ?" Poor old man
his sad story always exeites my sym
pathy. Then there was Jeremiah,
who exclaimed ooh, that my head
were waters and mine eyes a river Of
tears. Cursed be the day wherein l
was born ; cursed be the man who
brought tidings to my father saying a
man child is born unto thee"
1 don't like these sad people nor sad
stories nor tales of misery. I never
read a omance that ends sadly. l
don't like the company of people who
wear sad faces and are never happy
unless they are miserable. l wish
that Robert Burns had never written
"Man was made to MOURN" for I
don't believe it. Of all Gods crea-
lures, man is the only one that can
smile, and he should smile as often as
he can. CoWper was a sad poet, but
he does say:
Behind a frownipg providence
He wears a smiling face"
That is better. The Creator who
beautifed and adorned the earth with
fruits and flowers and gave US birds to
| sing and music to charm, and studded
the heavens with stars, did not make
man to mourn. If He had given US
only buzzards for birds and dog fennel
for flowers and the bowling of the
winds for music, We might have
mourned but I rather like that poet
who in the gush Of his gratitude said:
"This world ia very lovely. Oh, my God
I thank Thee that I live"
Young was another sad and solemn
poet, and says:
!"Msn wants but little here below,
Nor wants that little long,
Sidney Smith was more genial, and
says:
"Man wants but little here below,
AS beef, pork, lamb ana v~enison show"
I wish somebody would tell me
where I can find parody on that same
text that was written by John Quincy
Adams about half a century ago. 1t
was a charming poem, and began:
"NIan vents but little here below,
Nor wants that little long,
'Tis not with me exactly 90,
Tho tits so in the song"
Then he sets forth a delightful cata-
logue Of what he does want, and it ac-
cords with our desires and excuses as
for indulging them. Let a maa, and
especially a woman, wish as much as
he Or she pleases, but no good comes
of a distressful longing for things ne
can't get. Woman is peculiar about
that. She can want pretty things
ever so badly and do without them
ever so g%raciously. During the war
and about it's distressing close the
wives and mothers who had lived in
luxury came down to poverty and hard
times with more fortitude than the
men-I knew many men who gave up
and pinned away and died, but their
wives didn't. They held up their
heads and struggled on. I remember
how crushed and helpless l felt when
I got my family back home and found
nothing but a shelter-not a bed to
sleep on-not a cow in the county, no
-four, no sugar nor cofee-not a chick
en- nor an egg, and no money to buy
with, if there had been anything to
buy-no wood to burn, no fence
around the house, and SO We had to
burn the stable that the yankees built
on our lot for their horses. 1t was
desolation, and with me was almost
despair, but my wife never surrender
ed, and she hasn't yet. She wants as
many good things and nice things as
anybody, but when trouble comes she
can suffer and be strong.
1t is a good time about now for a
man of my years to look back and take
a kind of inventory of what I have
done all this time-what has been ac-
complished for the worlds good or
anybody's good, not for my own good,
for that don't count up yonder. Be
fore I go into the receivers hands it
is we'll for me to make up an invoice.
When a schoolboy we used to debate
whether or not there was such q
thing as disinterested benevolencc. l
thought then that there was, but it
seems to me now that almost every
good thing I cvcr did was very much
mixed with sel6shness and that all
that will excuse me will be on the line
of the poet who says,
"They who joy would win,
Must share it-hsppiness was born in
twin"
There is some comfort in that, for |
believe I have taken pleasure in divid.
ing with others the blessings that God
has given me. The retrospect is,
however, not free from clouds and
blurs, and I would that I could live
those parts of my life over again, and
live them better. DR.. johnson said
to Boswell that a man who lived for
himself lived in vain, and that it was
every mans duty to do something for
his fellowmen and also for those who
were to come after him. "Our faith
crs and forcfathers," said he, "wrote
hooks and invented uscfnl contriyan-