Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1906-07-17
TOM LAWSON ON "THE BRIRE."
A Very Clean skit at the Expense OF
the LEGISLATURE of Massachusetts,.

To you and your victims, the bucket
shop slaves of whose hope Of salvation
you have been the ruthless destroyers;
To you and your masters. the corpor-
ations of whose dictates you have been
the good and faithful servants;
To you and your works and your
shame, as a valedictory to your present
session and a salutation to your next
one
l dedicate this homely story Of the
dirty bit Of paper.
Thomas w Lawson.
1906.
1t was a worn, and dirty, and evil
smelling bit of paper. Its centre bore
the portrait Of man, man the image
of his God.
Behind the massive, stately brow
was stored wisdom. From the great,
kindly eyes shone liberation. The
square, set Pve-weighed-it 1T and -decid-
ed it beyond recall jaw was power in
carnate.
Under the face the one script, I'm
God We Trust" seemed almost unnec-
essary; the other, THE Father Of His
Country; His Country the Greatest on
Earth" superfiuous. For the features
bore His indelible stamp, True by
birth and by choice, great by environ
ment and by decision, splendid within
and by reflection" From that resolute
mouth came forth in organ tones, "All
men shall be judged by what they have
done, and they shall be rewarded and
punished accordingly, here and hereaf-
ter"
On the trodden bit Of paper, silent
witnesses to its potency, were traced
autographs Of lesser men, dingy black
upon faded green. In a lower corner
was it's tag, 232323 and plainly in the
upper angle was it's universal passport
the symbol of its power for good and
for evil, One Hundred Dollars.
Over broad ocean and beaten high
ways, along tortuous human currents
and into earths hidden hooks and
crannies, up and down upon the ebb
and flow of many generations, this bit
of paper had found its way. In the
great shops of trade 1t had bought ne
cessaries, comforts, luXuries, life It
self. In the noisome marts where Sa-
tan caters to evil passions 1t took from
men and women respect, truth, virtue
and gave them-Sometimes death.
Those blots are the ear-marks left
| by broken-h hearted mother, who by
this bit of paper freed an erring child
from prison, but not from disgrace
That blur records the mingled joy OF
the snowhaired, care-bent couple
whose tumbling home by the Christ
mas coming Of this magic token was
snatched from grasping strangers
The blue-penciled letters on the edge
note the snaring of the thief who stole
to save those dearer to him than his
honor. The red stain Is the blood OF
mortal combat, struggle to the death
for this fiimsy bit of paper
In all it's comings and goings, Its
messages of sorrow and happiness, Its
service to careful thrift and un-
bridled license, it's missions for kind
compassion and merciless cruelty, the
craven face Of the man was ever clam
tranquil, serene, mirror of unaltera-
BILE faith in God and Time, who right
all things.
| But now the placid lips relax, cur
up, culver in scorn. The gentle eyes
blaze and sparks of anger fly. The
firm jaw becomes rigid, harsh menac-
ing. The shrinking scripts read: IN
Greed We Trust" THE Forsaken OF
His Country; His Country the Graft
lest on Earth"
| The face flashes out fierce contempt
and unutterable wrath, for now the
soiled and besmirched bit Of paper
shrivelling of itself as it passes from
one shameless hand into another more
vile, has become the sign of the un-
pardonable sin, the unspeakable trade
ones manhood for anothers soul.-The
Bride. Thomas w. Lawson.