The Butler weekly times. (Butler, Mo.) 1881-1918, 1905-08-10
THE MAN WHO
HADN'T TIME"
BY MARY HARTWELL.

produced OF this soil Whether he ha.
more remote ancestors, Bangs nevel
had time to ascertain.
He entered this world on business
and meant to make the most of hi.
term. Ready for college in his twelfth
year, he charged through that institu.
ton like a mad bull, carrying the hon
ors on his horns. Bangs had made IN
his mind what line of business he
would pursue in that early period cir.
cumstances Obliged him to waste in his
mothers lap. So he made a flying trip
through the states, gathering force as
he went, and landed plump in an edi.
torial chair, where he began to scrib-
BILE before his coat-skirts fell from
the breeze. Life is short" said
Bangs, mo time to waste in tomfool-
cry Of any sort. Business is the word"
1t is historical fact that Bangs
married. Whether he caught his bride
ION the fly" or took her in a business
way as part pay for his paper, from
some overloaded paper ask me not. He
certainly never wasted any time In
courtship. cannot imagine Bangs
lingering under window touching tie
light guitar. | cannot imagine love let
tiers written by lightning. cannot
quite see him in my minds eye with
one leg bent in supplication and the
other rushing off for a marriage
license.
He went through his morning mail
like a buzz-saw. Z-z-z sizzle A cloud
OF letters and nvelopes-stamps SET
Ting on replies like swallows on
barn--it was disposed of. He would
pursue with one eye Mrs. X. US ety.
sion on the Matrimonial Martyr"
whose broom was sweeping her to her
tomb, Who called all women in the
land, Against that tyrant, MAN, to
stand, Until his buttonless wristbands
wave. In melancholy DER her grave!
And with his other eye Bangs would
devour the Hon. M. C.s letter relating
some important public movement.
while In the same breath he would
yell: "Confound that woman! I wish
her husband could kill herr" and
chuckle, Fine. sir. very fine!"
Now Bangs had so well invested his
days that public emoluments and
plums generally were coming to his
hand; his future looked rich, and his |
time more precious than ever; when |
Old Time himself turned on his young
rival. He saw Bangs outstripping him.
Old Time said to himself: "Now here's |
a fellow-looks nearly as old as do.
If he lives to be three-score, he'll look |
like my grandfather, and he'll be want
Ing more days and nights than I can
This will never do" said Old
Time. So he spied out Bangs weak
places and dealt him some sharp
blows.
Bangs lay on his bed and dictated
to the doctor while planning out his
office work for subordinates.
Il want you to give me a powder.
sir. which will bring me to my feet in
SANITY"
"Gunpowder, perhaps" suggested
he doctor.
Not any shooting, If you please.
ioctor. No, not gunpowder Let it be
pill If you prefer. only stipulate
hat you cure me without wasting my
ime."
Sir" said the doctor, you must lie
lere and rest, neither doing nor think
ng; simply have used yourself up
THANKFULLY, sir. You have destroyed
without building up-you-"
But ! cant waste time that way"
'roaned Bangs, deciding on what sub
ect to cram Quilts for that next edi-
orial, laying out the heads of his
weekly essay for the Washington
trombone, and coming to a mental
ecision about the latest phase of the
astern situation.
Then, sir, all I have to say is. you
must waste time or Time will waste
'etf. y +
Which Time did; for he grew so in
Iignant at Bangs trying to improve
he wakeful hours of the night by
flaming a political campaign, that i
lie came back bringing Death with
lin. and they gave Bangs a rap on the
lead which finished him. 1t must have
'een a blessed consideration to /
he time-saver that his soul lost no
ime in separating from his body. but
vent straightway like a champagne
ork.
Our beloved friend and honored fell
whose remains lie before
is" said the minister, was cut off
n the very prime Of his days. His life
vas a busy one. His peculiar virtue
vas careful economy of time. He prob
Ibly accomplished more work in his
hort life of 80 years than most men
10 in the long probation of 60.--He
lever let a moment run to waste"
aid the minister, impressively.
oh. Bangs. were you sitting I'D be-
lind that man and shaking your spir-
tual head sadly? Were you crying on
our immaterial fingers over the awful
waste you had made? Waste of hours
Which might have blessed and built
gu up-by leading you a gallop
through the nursery, giving you kisses
rom those red lips SO early put under
by drawing Won to food and