The world is shabby in the way
  It treats a fellow too;
  It just endures him while he works,
  And kicks him when he’s through. 
  It’s ruthless, yes; let him make good,
  Or else it grabs its broom
  And grumbles:  “What a clutter’s here! 
  We can’t have this.  Make room!”

        And out he goes.  It says, “Can bread
      Be made from mouldy bran? 
      The men come swarming here in droves,
      But where’ll I find a man?”

    Yes, life is hard.  But all the same
  It seeks the man who’s best. 
  Its grudging makes the prizes big;
  The obstacle’s a test. 
  Don’t ask to find the pathway smooth,
  To march to fife and drum;
  The plum-tree will not come to you;
  Jack Horner, hunt the plum.

        The eyes of life are yearning, sad,
      As humankind they scan. 
      She says, “Oh, there are men enough,
      But where’ll I find a man?”

St. Clair Adams.

IF I SHOULD DIE

A man whose word is as good as his bond is a man the world admires.  It is related of Fox that a tradesman whom he long had owed money found him one day counting gold and asked for payment.  Fox replied:  “No; I owe this money to Sheridan.  It is a debt of honor.  If an accident should happen to me, he has nothing to show.”  The tradesman tore his note to pieces:  “I change my debt into a debt of honor.”  Fox thanked him and handed over the money, saying that Sheridan’s debt was not of so long standing and that Sheridan must wait.  But most of us know men who are less scrupulous than Fox.

    If I should die to-night
  And you should come to my cold corpse and say,
  Weeping and heartsick o’er my lifeless clay—­
    If I should die to-night,
  And you should come in deepest grief and woe—­
  And say:  “Here’s that ten dollars that I owe,”
    I might arise in my large white cravat
    And say, “What’s that?”

    If I should die to-night
  And you should come to my cold corpse and kneel,
  Clasping my bier to show the grief you feel,
    I say, if I should die to-night
  And you should come to me, and there and then
    Just even hint ‘bout payin’ me that ten,
    I might arise the while,
    But I’d drop dead again.

Ben King.

From “Ben King’s Verse.”

JUST BE GLAD

Misfortunes overtake us, difficulties confront us; but these things must not induce us to give up.  A Congressman who had promised Thomas B. Reed to be present at a political meeting telegraphed at the last moment:  “Cannot come; washout on the line.”  “No need to stay away,” said Reed’s answering telegram; “buy another shirt.”

  O heart of mine, we shouldn’t
      Worry so! 
  What we’ve missed of calm we couldn’t
      Have, you know! 
  What we’ve met of stormy pain,
  And of sorrow’s driving rain,
  We can better meet again,
      If it blow!