The Newport plain talk. (Newport, Tenn.) 1909-1939, 1915-02-03
Written For Plain Talk
BY R. E. Ottinger, Par
rOttsville, Tennessee.

wedged himself to the highest Of
flee in the gift of the republic; on
this Shakespear stood weaving
wool and Wove for himself a fame
immortal; on this James A. Gar
field tramped a tow path with no
company but an honest mule, but
that tow path led on to the white
house in Washington. But where
could we find an Illustration more
impressive than in Lincoln, who
was born as low as the Son of
God in a hovel of what real par
entage we know not, reared in
pen ury, squalor, with no CLEAN of
light nor fair surroundings, a
young manhood vexed by weird
dreams and visions, bordering at
times on madness, but it was re-
served for this strange being late
in life without name or fame or
over-ordinary preparation, to be
snatched from obsurity, raised to
supreme command and entrusted
with the destiny of this great ma
ton.
So in youth is the time for prep
aration, do not be lazy. very
well remember a man once who
really looked so lazy it seemed to
rest me to look at him. But the
man or woman who live in this
age and live in idleneSs should
have been born in some other
age. Carlyle says: The race of
life has become intense, the run
ners are treading on each others
heels. Woe be to the man who
stops to tie his shoe string. Take
care Of your principles, and to do
this start right and keep right. l,
heard of a traveller who said to a
wayside farmer, "how far do you
call it to New York;" The farmer
replied, about five thousand miles
the way you are going;if you turn
and 60 the other way it is only
five miles" If you start right and
keep right, no matter where you
start from, you then will end
right; but before you can end
right you must te the builder of
your own character. You cam 1t
have another's character. You
may try to initiate the character
of some one: but to you alone
rests this. You must be your
own master, and it is that some
thing within you which receives an
impression upon your mind and
writes indelible letters on your
heart, your thought, words and
deeds. 1t is the finest tone of
ones heartstring, or else it is the
dull thud of life which seems to
chill one through and through. 1t
is that something that is added to
ones life, but it is life itself. The
building of life is not the work of
a moment or day, but as it is
said from the cradle to the grave.
One cannot jump into the right
kind of a life as they would into
a suit of clothes, unless it be an
assumed one, and such a life
would be a hypocritical one which
we all despise. The building of
the right kind of a life is a slow
process, for it must be worked at
continually, and we are continual
ly building even when we are not
conscious of it. We are adding
to it each Gay by little things-lit-
tie deeds of kindness, loftier ideals,
and thoughts of our better mo-
ments if started right, and this
kind Of life is created by hammering
one upon another of the sheets
of gold leaf of opportunity which,
weld together and build higher
and higher, one strong piece of
gold, which is life that will stand
the test of life.
But the life that will fail might
be compared or likened to that
reared upon tinfoil, which, while
to all appearance YIELDS together