The Telegraph-courier. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1888-1946, 1897-05-27
A PLEA FOR GOOD TIMES.
Times Are Not as Hard as Most of US Cry
They Are

They Are
Hard times! Hard times Come
again no more
We all sing it, we all hope it; but do
we know what hard times are? We
sing it while we eat beefsteak at 20
cents pound, oysters at so cents a
dozen, and three kinds of bread at the
same meal; we shout it while we smoke
cigars two for a quarter; while we
stretch our comfortable legs on brus-
sells carpet, before a blazing CRATE,
with well groomed boys and expen-
sively clad girls around us; we shout it
to our neighbors across our smooth
lawns, or through our plate glass win
dows; we groan it as we read our
morning and evening papers, our
plentiful magazines and our costly
libraries; we dream of it in our soft and
springy beds, while our coal-fed fur
mace keeps the whole house warm; we
maunder about it in our we'll equipped
Offices, shout it through our telephones,
ring the changes on it as we send our
kilograms and take expensive summer
outings. We meet in our political, So
cial, literary and business conventions,
AMI ring the changes on it while we are
spending fortunes with railroads, hotels,
restaurants and places of amusement.
And yet, in these days we do not
know what hard times are; we think
we do, but we do not.
The writer knows of a time within
his membrance- he is no patri-
arch-when in one of the richest parts
of one of the most favored States in the
Union, the whole town of some 1000
inhabitants possessed altogether not
over $500 in money; all exchange was
bv barter; there was no cash payment
because there was nothing to pay with.
Among the best and richest families
land there were many who thought
themselves well-to-do) beefsteak was a
once week visitor; round beef was a
luxury; oysters were an unheard Of
dainty; corn bread was the usual,
wheat the rare food; the cheapest pipe
tobacco was a dissipation; cold bed
rooms, scanty wood fires, woolsey and
calico were in the house; 6x8 window
panes were helped out by hats, old
papers and rags; weekly paper was
an extravaganza and served several
families. Ten books made good, fair
library; beds were Slated or corded;
rae carpets were occasional, ingram
scarce, and brussels a tradition; the
sole vacation was ride to the annual
picnic in the one-horse shay; nobody
had time, money or heart for conven-
lions or amusements. We men worked
from 5 a. N. to p m. (the aristocrats
shortened the time by two hours) and
the women worked at all hours.
And yet it is doubtful if there was in
those times such universal spirit OF
unrest and discomfort, such concert
of growing as today.
Is it fair? Are we just Can we
afford to waste time in bewailing hard
times, when times are easy on us, and
treat us far better than we deserve?
A manager once said with a chuckle:
" The mails have been good to our
house today; the first one brought an
order in every letter, and the last one
brought a remittance in every letter. =
We all know (mayhap we are) persons
who would have said: Alas, we have
fallen on evil times; the first mail
brought no money and the last mail
brought no trade"
Let us put aside these ugly tempers
of ours; look toward the sun; smile at
the shadow; all sunshine makes the
desert, it's a pretty world, senor;"
enjoy its beauties, let us borrow no
trouble, shed light on our neighbors;
quit ourselves like men, and times will
seem (aS they arel GOOD,