The words which follow are affectionately dedicated to the fine old Live-Oak tree standing in front of our farm house door. His leaves have rustled with laughter in keen appreciation of our merriment and sighed gently in sympathy when our silence gave evidence that the finger of sorrow had swept over our feelings.
For such a tree one's affection is deeper and more tender than friendship. There he was standing, perhaps, for a century before our acquaintance began; and, on the day when our eyes first swept over this scene, his kindly shade welcomed us and aided us in all our home building. Under his branches the children have played, and year by year the mocking birds have trustfully reared their little ones within reach of our hands; confiding in him to safely hold their nest, even as they have trusted us not to molest them. And their trust has been rewarded. AS to our reward? To be answered you need only listen to that song. For in it ever beautiful thing the old bird knows is told,with hardly a pause--and then over and over again. To-morrow he will know some other music, for he is ever learning.
Those songs we owe to he tree; for had he been untrue to his trust "The birds would have flown and would return, ???????????????Who Knows? Ah when!"
???As it is they leave us for so short a time that we scarcely miss them; for those are the days when fires are kindled and the windows are tightly closed.
But even though the birds have deserted us for a little while the tree does not shed a leaf. Beautiful with foliage through every change of weather, when the moment arrives he changes his clothing for a new suite almost before we are aware of what he is doing. With leaves fresh and glossy during the hottest days of summer he is a perpetual delight to the eye; But he is even more beautiful when, during one of those exceptional misty days of winter, the breath of old Boreas touches him and transforms the liquid pearls and diamonds, in the twinkling of an eye,--and instantly every twig and branch is enclosed in solid ice.
This he could not possibly carry had he not been wise enough to grow with all his lower limbs within reach of mother earth; and at such a time he simply rest them on her ample bosom, and, once in awhile fastens them there with rivets of ice.
???This is the sight whose transcendent beauty no camera can catch; for, when the mist rolls away and the sun shines out suddenly, and there have been two days during our acquaintance he has thus stood glowing with every color of the rainbow until, of every leaf and branch and twig you would willingly affirm that "Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these."
???Such days of special grandeur are, of course rare, and hard to endure; for the strain is very great--as must indeed be the case in every coronation.
????We have admired and stood in awe of him on those days; but it is for the other days, and for the companionship he then afforded , that I love him.
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chapter One
In the telling of tales, even with such freedom as you and I enjoy in the shade of these green leaves, the utmost circumspection must be observed, because there are sure to be at least two sensitive beings at the telling--not to speak of the live-oak.
???I remember that one of the most critical times of my life turned upon how a tale, which I in my youth and innocence told, was going to be received by the victim.I tremble, to-day, as I recall that moment. I had some friends who were exceedingly kind to me. On a warm summer evening we sat on the large veranda which opened upon a flower garden half an acre in extent. I remarked upon the unusual fact that a brood of little chickens, without a hen were scratching about, to the best of their ability; and I wondered aloud about their motherless estate.
?" Oh that's all right,"said my host, "Mrs Archibald is mothering that lot--they will not suffer."
???I had a sense of humor in those days also;but there was something the matter with it, always.It acted too late. So It entertain the party, related this tale--which you have probably heard-- of the mother elephant who in the course of her travels through the forest trod-- without malice aforethought--upon a mother bird and killed her. the story insist the heart of the large quadruped was touched by the sight of the fledgelings in the nest; and expatiated at length, on her thoughts; the conclusion of which was, that, since the birds evidently needed attention it was clearly her duty to give it to them--which she did by sitting down on the nest. I was going to observe that I hoped Mrs. Archibald's conscience would not carry so far as that;(she weighed two hundred pounds and over) but I looked up and caught the Elders eye,--and then I realized that words were useless.
???At that moment my sense of humor arose from it's lethargy; but I did not need it--at least, not for a terrible second,--and then my hostess saved the situation--by leading the uproarious laughter, at her own expense, which followed.
???She was a Saint on earth, and I realize it more and more every time I think if where I would have been if she had not laughed at the right moment. The river--deep and wide--was not three hundred feet away, and I knew, all in an instant, that I'd be in it(that is, the river) if she did no take pity on me.
????Now, stranger! Are you as smart and kind-hearted as the folks that day? And can you feel the point without having it driven into you?
????I have found that in this life somebody's toes are always in the way; and it is not possible to travel along this road of story telling without occasionally treading on some one's pet corn, which he or she may call politics, theology, business and so forth.
???These stories tell themselves: I am only an amanuensis to the narrator--as it were,--and my sorest toe is trodden on as often and as hard as yours; so please do what the Elder's wife: Forgive, and laugh with, me.
Yes, Sir! It's mighty pleasant to sit here in this cool spot and hear the wind blowing steadily from the southwest among these leaves above us; but, if you want to throughly appreciate your blessings, just turn around and look over that prairie. Air looks fairly white with it's quivering, don't it?
????Thermometer! Oh, I never look at it--where ignorance is bliss et cet.;--makes one feel too warm, you know. Yes: theres one in the coolest spot on the back gallery. Going to look at it? Well I wouldn't if I were you.
????Whew! Why you look sick. Ninety-eight in the shade, you say. Well, stranger, just sit down and forget it. There will be no sunstrokes in this country, not today. That wind is in the right direction. If it was from the north-east, why, that would be another matter, quite: farm work and threshing grain don't go very fast on those days.
????Oh! sit still! An old fellow like me is on the retired list, you know; and my occupation is just what I told the census enumerator; being a nuisance to my folks and telling yarns to the neighbors.
Now, that's a good fellow; loll back and be comfortable. That wind means dry weather. The clouds , you say, looks like rain? Oh , they are only gulf clouds! I've seen them travel overhead, just that way, day by day, for ninety days at a stretch, without getting one drop of water. Yes sir! It was pretty dry those days,but we lived through it: the memory of it will help us over the next hard place.
What was that about telling stories? No; It's not exactly that way either. Something is usually said that starts one, or maybe I'm just leaning back in the hammock thinking of days that have gone by, and of the road by which I have traveled through life to this place and time and one of those thoughts starts a story; and if there' s any one around to hear it , he generally hears it--provided he stays long enough.
Oh yes; I tell the same stories over and over again. main facts always the same, but I take a good bit of liberty with the trimmings. Galligher says that I never tell the same yarns twice the same way;- good thing I don't, you know, or I'd drive them all crazy. Kind of keep them guessing how it's going to go this time. See? anyhow after the stories get started they usually tell themselves.
Nonsense , you say?
Well I can prove it; for sometimes the miserable things hit me , and harder than they ever hit anyone else.
You know I'd stop that if I could; But when I see where the thing is headed I just chuckle and brace up for the laugh which is sure t come-- if I am hit. Sometimes the others don't laugh when they get a whack; And then I 'm dreadful sorry that I started that story at that time,-- but I can't help it then. It's too late when once the story's told, and I console myself by thinking that if the poor fellow who is then harboring such hard thoughts of me had just taken course of medicine for his liver , his billiousness wouldn't have prevented him from laughing at a good story--even if he was the man that was bowled over.
Why the funniest thing about this story telling business is not the stories , but but the way they take charge of matters, and sometimes even refuse to be told at all. Only the other day my neighbour Galligher was gassing to me and I started to tell him about one of my early experiences in sheep herding. Well, Sir! we chatted along for the solid evening and when he was gone I said to my wife 'I declare! I'll have to tell Galligher that sheep story some other day." And wife said " What under the sun were you talking about all this day, anyhow?" And so far as I can recollect I only told him the tale about an elephant, but it surely made him laugh. Not much sheep about that, was there? No sir, the sheep wasn't in it, but the elephant was--fore feet and hind quarters too;--and so was I.
No, no. I'm not going to tell that story again. You'll have to ask Galligher about it. He lives over the prairie a mile or so, and he'll enjoy telling it--for it never hit him at all.
Oh yes; he told me a lot of yarns too. We usually swap yarns in this county, you know. None of us want to give the other fellow half a chance to talk too much. Why, there are some folks who say they come here to enjoy my rambling along, who, after they arrive , never let me get a word in edgeawys. Strange, isn't it? Fun, you think? Well, yes Sir, maybe it is--for them.
Very good, sit still and take it easy and I'll tell you a sheep story, if you'll not interrupt too much. Of course, I don't mind; but the story gets mixed up and jumps the track; and sometimes I never get it back again.
Here goes !
Every bit of this happened many years ago, when I was a young fellow fresh from the east: a tenderfoot , as we say. Sometimes this yarn hits me .sometimes the Elder, and sometimes the sheep. You can make up your own mine about who it hits as it tells itself to-day.
It's an illustration of the fact that there are individuals still in this world who would march, smilingly, to the stake for the sake of what they believe . No Sir! That don't mean me. I'm not that kind of build. I think I was born a coward and never got over it. That means the Elder; or, maybe? the sheep.
You don't believe there are such men? Why man alive, who have you been associating with? Why , I meet that kind of people almost every day. No Sir, I'm not bragging much about human nature in the abstract--still too near the brute creation for that;-- but I come across it in reality, and in small doses, it averages up pretty fair.
Exceptions? Oh yes,,lots of them -- and some of them mighty sorry specimens too;-- but they are "exceptions".
But , say , stranger, You ain't giving that story any chance. Ha ,Ha ,Ha !
Well I declare! If there ain't the children going out to wave the rag for the boys to come to dinner. Yes; that's all right. Sun agrees with this watch of mine , and you've just time to unsaddle that animal of yours and feed her before the boys get here.
Oh, of course you've got to eat dinner somewhere,--might as well fill up here or ypu'll not know about that sheep this day; and to-morrow is somewhat uncertian in this locality. Now, just trot to the lots; feed and water are all there. I'm lazy these ot days and don't move around much, as you see. After awhile the Elder had to go back to the house, and, in parting, he said that he thought I would get along fine with the sheep"all right". Moreover, he encouraged me by saying that I'd not be apt to lose any of them, as there was a good fence around the pasture they were in, and, furthermore there there weren't but five hundred acres in that enclosure anyway.
Well , sir ! As soon a he was gone I began to have misgivings in the top of my head--and they soon spread all over me- as to who had been doing the herding during the past two hours. The sheep, however , didn't seem to have any doubts on the subject:Quite the contrary indeed;-- and they then and there undertook to teach me sheep herding.
Since I was on foot, and there were seven hundred of them, I learned several things that day, if I didn't learn to be a shepherd --which, by the way , I never did learn. I was at it only two years, and it takes most men a lifetime--and in the end they give up. Not difficult , you think?
Well, that depends on how you look at it. I soon learned , by the aid of a horse,
to make those beast to do as I wanted them to; but I never at the same time convinced them that it was exactly what they were yearning to be up to just art that moment; and unless you can do those two things simultaneously you were not a shepherd--at least not a good one.
The wool-producers also taught ne that an old cedar picket fence would turn cows and horses, but not sheep.--certainly not these sheep;--and that a barb-wire fence (on the south side of the pasture) with the lower wire twelve inches from the ground was a scab pestered wooley's natural scratching post--if he could get to it. Never mind the wool! They never missed what they willingly lost
I also learned that their heads being finally under the wire it would take a smarter herder than I to prevent their bodies from following; and also that once on the farther side of that flesh tearing apology for a fence all the eloquence that had learned at school or inherited couldn't persuade one of them that a sheep of his size could possible pass under such an obstruction as that
I learned many things from them, and. as I soon realized , nothing at all from the Elder ,-- at least, not on that subject; Though I've suspected , since, that I acquired varied and valuable information from him on other matters.
And it wasn't his fault that I did not become an expert. He certainly gave me an excellent opportunity.
When I, at last, closed the pen door that night, I said, like those of old, "Thank God;" but ,unlike them, I didn't "Take Courage." I was too tired to eat or sleep; and before morning had determined that it would take two of us , at least. to do anything with that flock.
Afterwards the boys told me that the herder who had proceeded me was near-sighted and had pretty nearly starved the sheep by keeping them on a close bunch all the time , and that was the reason why they had been so crazy to run, all day. But , when I remembered how they had marched in column all of two hours for the Elder, I realized that these old ewes knew me for a green-horn and just played with me.
The next day I was on horseback---part of the time. Even with Sam's help sheepherding didn't' prove to be precisely the job for a sick man. I soon found that lying on my back on the prairie, which was conducive to my physical restoration, was about the poorest way to increase the amount of fat and wool on those sheep. I and Sam had to work ; so we worked.
Yes Sir! that's what I called it. When I wasn't walking my own legs off I was taking a mad ride over the pasture to head some smart woolly who had developed an insane desire to return to the pen and find that grain of corn that she had lost at feeding time, the night before; and, as she all ways told the rest of the flock about it, they all insisted upon going along.
Consequently , as there was to my certain knowledge, another flock only a mile behind me, it sometimes seemed necessary to kill the fool that had started the stampede in order to divert the attention of the others.
Oh yes! If you stopped her--that was the end of it ; for that time
No: I never killed one; but I left my six shooter at the house after the first day--for fear of accidents to-- to-- Sam or me; and also to my bank account.
You see, wages were only sixteen dollars a month--board thrown in.
No Sir,No Sir ! rocks weren't scarce; but I never could hit a barn door when I was mad, which I was most of those strenuous days.
Well yes ! I've got my own opinion about a sheep as a model of meekness- or any thing else for that matter, except as food in the shape of well cooked mutton. I came to the conclusion, before many days, that the lambs which the Jewish shepherds carried around in their bosoms were an entirely different race of animals from those that were instructing me. The Jewish kind are extinct--I am positive about this !--but i'll say no more under that head at present.
Oh, you are right; those first days were certainly straining ; - having to do so much and say so little, you know. The horse died, afterward;-- though it might have been a case of blind staggers that finished him..
Was Sam a good horse? Yes Sir . But when you are told that I had never before ridden a horse but one time and that Sam's best friends admitted to other people that he wasn't exactly "easy" you will understand why I called him "rough" and had my doubts as to his value as a saddle animal; but, as a sheep herder, oh my ! he already knew more than I ever learned.
About the middle of the first day that I was on his back ( I wonder what he would have called the performance) he became convinced of the futility of expecting any further improvements in my methods of controlling the flock, and and took the bit in his teeth during one of our frequent rushes; and then we were at the head if the runaways before I could bet my breath to call, "whoa!' Then he reached down ( Yes; I was still on his back but didn't have hold of the lines. You see,I had to have booth hands to hold on to the pommel of that Mexican saddle,) Yes , he reached down and caught that old ewe --who had been making trouble all day--by the back of the neck with his teeth, and shook her until I thought surely she would be dead when he got through with her. And, may I be forgiven! I hoped she would be. She looked like a wet dish-rag when he finally let her drop, and I thought that she was dead, and sure enough; for she never moved. Noticing that she was still breathing, I got down to set her on her feet, and Sam went to grazing just as if nothing was the matter. Ever fool with a sheep in that condition? Stranger ! You have still a fresh experience ahead of you in this life, if you care to try it. Most things can be accomplished , so can this one; but not till the sheep gets ready. this one wasn't quite ready; she arrived at that stage as soon as I gave it up and went back to herding. My respect for old Sam increased from that moment until I thought him a first class saddle-horse and used to let him herd the sheep while I took a nap upon his back. Things went all right most of the time that Sam did the herding: I never made a success of it. In order to do that one must be in complete sympathy with the sheep. Now, they were undermining my theology, and I could not respect them because of the way they were treating a sick man. Sam did not respect them either, for they would nibble at his tail -- while he and I were dozing--until he finally didn't have enough hair left on it to chase flies with.I quit taking naps on his back because I found that he could and would protect him self from this tail eating unless I was asleep in the saddle; he never kicked, then. This was the reason I gave myself, at first. for taking my repose close to mother earth on the baking hot prairie; but one day when Sam had been unusually successful at planting his hoof where it would do the most good that I felt so satisfied about it that I called out "Good horse! hit him again," and right then I knew I knew that it wasn't my theology only that the sheep had ruined--my religion also was getting shaky-- and that next day I quit sheep herding for good. A man can't afford to get to the point where he lets a horse or other dumb brute settle accounts for him It was an incident that happened on the third day which proved to me that the Elder Jones believed what he talked, and lived up to it. On that day it rained. No! that's not exactly right; the drought broke up,which is quite another matter.
It was about three o'clock in the evening when it commenced to drizzle, and the sheep and I were over a mile away from the pens; but, fortunately, we were on the right side of the branch--for which I afterwards found thar I had cause to be thankful. the rain came straight into the faces of the sheep and they all bunched up, most of them put their heads under the bellies of the other sheep. Imagine it and my plight!
Except for a slow steady drift of the whole flock away from the storm, there they stood. Nice situation for a three days old herder, wasn't it? Sam walked around to the far side of the bunch and turned his tail to the storm, and then they quit drifting in that direction. I soon caught on to that, and then I patted Sam on the neck and said to him "Good Horse" several times. Sam always liked one to talk to him.
Then came a rush of the wind and rain, and afterwards it settled down to steady business, not so very hard--at least, the drops (?) wouldn't knock you over; but still it was raining.
And such thunder and lightning,,Oh my! One bolt of lightning came straight down so close to us that I couldn't distinguish any time between the flash and the terrible roar that followed,and the air seemed full of the stuff which Milton, or some one else, says is the chief ingredient in a certain lake that I used to hear about before the higher-criticism exploded most of the dreams of my youth.
Yes Sir, that shook me ! Sam was all in a tremble.-breathing became hard work; and Sam wanted to go home.
Then , because of Sam's desire,and for several other reasons, I tried to start that rain-soaked, shivering mass towards the pen. I tried riding, at first; then I got down and undertook it on foot. I thought that I had better walk, anyhow,if the lightning was going to act like that: there didn't seem to be any sense in having Sam and myself killed, both at the same time. So, I lead him- and I lengthened out the lines to the last notch too. No Sir! Couldn't turn him loose --not that day. He wanted to go home. Sam didn't seem to think it was any use, and he followed around only because I held the bridle lines, and shook his a good bit about it, especially when he had to squarely face the rain, which was,of course, most of the time. Didn't ever try this job of driving sheep in a storm,did you? Well, Stranger,I've a whole book of advice to give you but I'll condense it. Don't !! You'll need all that energy after a while, and for the represent just keep them from getting further from the pen--if you can.
But I was as green then as you are now, and I worked with those sheep. I didn't move them any to speak about, that is toward the pen; but suddenly one old ewe got a move on herself, strange to say, and lit out. It was in the wrong direction. she wobbled from side to side as she ran, and stumbled over her own nose; and before she could get on her feet again Sam and I were on the spot and sent her back to the flock; but very , very slowly ,-- for she contested every inch of the way. This was repeated three times; but the fourth time the rain was coming down so thick that I did not see her start, so she had a good deal of advantage from the very outset. Also, the ground was now so soft that Sam could no longer run, so that when we over took her she was half a mile from the flock, and she was calmly reposing in the branch. There hadn't been any creek there in the morning, but it looked dangerous to me at the moment, and so I waded in and pulled the poor thing to the bank.
Yes Sir; I called her"Poor thing" that time; but she struggled to her feet and went right into a worse place; and then I called her an old fool--and dragged her out again.
The situation was further complicated by Sam's conduct, for I couldn't drop the lines, and every time I touched the sheep he threw up his head and snorted.
After the beast went back into the water the third time I concluded that brains were go9ing to have to count for something since I was ,then physically unable to pull her out of the mud and water any more. So I made a slip knot on one end of my stake rope and tied the other end to the lines and when Sam found that there was a sheep on the other end of that rope my only trouble was to keep him from going home with that woolzy -head without making further arrangements.
No Sir! I never said anything but" Confounded old fool;" but I said it several times, and right emphatically
It was the things that I didn't say that pretty nearly killed me. I've often been sorry, since then, that I didn't say those things--right out loud. They wouldn't have been pleasant to hear; but they couldn't have hurt me more than they did, and the strain would have been less. And then, if I had actually heard myself saying those expressive words I'd have quit sheep herding the next day- -which would have been better for all of us. As for the old ewe, she was past caring for anything that might have been uttered; for she had sulled. And Sam? Well Sam had herded sheep under many herders (some of them Mexicans) and his feelings couldn't have been hurt by anything in the shape of language that a tender-foot's brain could have concocted; but they were hurt- -and badly- - by what I did. But Sam should have blamed my theology for that. My early training had taught me to think a lot of a sheep; he, or she, was the emblem in my scheme of things of all that was best and noblest in the world; so , in spite of my short but impressive acquaintance with her real character, I determined to save this one in spite of herself. Then I suddenly remembered that the balance of the seven hundred,- -who for the time being were comparatively just sheep ,- -were being sacrificed for this one, perverse wrong-headed ewe. So I got a move on me, didn't fool any time in trying to make the suller find her legs. I just told Sam that it was a ground-hog case of carying that four-legged piece of contrariness; and , that since i couldn't he must.
Now that ewe weighed about as much as I did, and Sam was an extraordinarily tall horse, and hadn't been trained to play camel, and by the time I had succeeded in tying two legs of the woolly on one side and two on the other side of the saddle, Sam's education was complete; and I was content to sit down in the mud and catch my breath.
"Wet," did you say? Yes, rather; but after a man has handled a sheep that has been in a storm for two hours and three times in the creek, why, he's not caring about "wet" . What he's hunting is dry---as dry as sahara. So Sam, and, I and the ewe, started for where dry ought to be; and on the road and that very soon, we ran up against the seven hundred , who had missed the runway and had come after here.
Without joking, they had simply drifted that half mile while I was persuading Sam that his education would be permanently incomplete unless he quit kicking every time I got the sheep against his side.
Give it up? No Sir ! I never gave things up in those days. Once started on that track, that sheep was going to the pen on Sam's back , dead or alive, if it took all the time that the future held---provided that I didn't die I the meanwhile. So I had that twenty six hundred odd feet to add to the other mile as total distance traveled; And I had--first of all-- to convince those comparatively just sheep that they were mistaken as to the direction.
As the sun was about to set ( though no man could have told it by looking at where the sun ought to have been) the rain, as is usual in this country, became lighter and I succeeded in persuading the bell-wether of the flock that it was approximately twenty five thousand miles to the pen in the direction he as going., and only a mile and a half if he would but consent to right-about-face and go the other way. By this time there were tears in my voice as I talked to him, my love for sheep had permanently departed, and to this day I always smile when I hear a preacher hold up a sheep as a model of meekness , or for thar matter of anything else thar's good. He is only guessing: I know.
Eventually I took off my big yellow slicker,(water-proof against rain, but not guaranteed against wet sheep or creeks) useless now , since no man can become more than soaked, and by using it to enforce my arguments -- which by it's aid I beat into the bell-weather's head -we got started. That's the only way to get your ideas into a sheep: his own notions get in easier, and stick better. A slicker is to be preferred to rocks:You can oftener hit the sheep that you are aiming at; and also a slicker don't break legs--which can't be said for rocks.
So , by the educational force of the slicker--aided some what by language which confused the sheep but didn't impair his value as mutton-- I succeeded in moving the object of my attentions about twenty five feet in the right direction, and held him the whole seven minutes in an argument until about fifty others came over to hear what we were jawing about, and then the interest became general and the balance of of the seven-hundred came over in a bunch,. during the discussion I never let the bell on the wethers neck silent for a moment: when he did not ring it I did --or at least the slicker did
This whole operation was repeated times without number. Occasionally the flock concluded that the wether was an old fool for allowing himself to be convinced about direction and then they deserted him in a body--and then his body deserted me. But I always cut him out again, and convinced him of the error of his way--and then we would repeat the operations ab initio.Finally Elder Jones sent out two hired men to help me; and , as I had moved those sinners (they were all that, by that time) about a half mile, or in other words to about where we started the performance, our united forces closed the pen doors on the flock at nine o'clock P.M. with only one missing. and that one was on Sam's back.
I took Sam to his stable in the lower barn, and on the way back dropped that ewe in the front yard of the ranch on the thick bermuda grass for that's the only really dry spot on that place during a drought- breaker.
When I told the Elder about the ewe (we were at the dinner table) his eyes twinkled, but he only helped my plate extra liberally and congratulated me on having stuck by the sheep, and said that at such a time a man had done well enough if he got his flock into the pen at all and that he thought I would find that the hard work had paid when I got into bed and remembered the other herder who was out with his flock on the far side of the branch, ( The roar of the water could be distinctly heard from where we were sitting); and he said it would probably be ten o'clock next day--provided the rain stopped soon--before the man could get his horse across, let alone the sheep. Then I realized how fortunate I was in having my flock on the right side of that branch which just six hours previous hadn't had a bucket-full of water in it for over six months.
It was at this time I became convinced that something ought to be done to doctors in the north who send invalids with no means of subsistence but sheepherding to Texas. They must have been thinking of some other place- - Heaven, for instance. Several other men whom I have met and who have been left on this same shore have talked it over, and and decided that the doctors ignorance on this subject was such that the court would call it culpable and punish them accordingly, or, if on the other hand, they were only sending their patients to Texas to die , they ought to be taken out and hanged since there are pleasanter places to die in than the Lone Star State- -and it two thousand miles away from home. However, I suppose that we were none of us competent jurors, too prejudiced against the defendants, you know. But, as a matter of fact, it was those who went back to the home state who did the dying. But that did not cause us to change our verdict; for a man can't be lenient or even just when he's homesick very hard. After supper the Elder and I had a long, confidential talk together; and, although the didn't mean to do it , he strained my theology some more. No Sir! he never touched my religion. Those two things haven't any thing whatever to do with each other.I sometimes argue with a man when he doesn't believe in my particular brand of theology, but I never have argued with any man on the other subject;- but we must stick to that sheep,now. Commenting on my trouble with that ewe the Elder said that the notion set fourth in the church song-books about a tender shepherds care was all wrong. he insisted that a man in charge of sheep ought to be as strong as they make them, both as to body and feelings; and he smiled as he said good-night and remarked that anyone might be very well pleased with the shepherd's tender care I had given to the flock entrusted to me; but, that for his part, he wished that I had been stronger before I lifted that ninety five pound ewe. I had weighed one hundred and a half pounds in my stocking feet that morning- -nobody knows what my weight was that night.
I replied that the ewe never kicked at all; he smiled and remarked that sullen sheep never did.I said not a word about kicking in telling him of Sam's performance. There's no use in ruining a horse's reputation when he was only expressing prejudices which he was amply justified in holding.I never ask Sam to carry another sheep, either. "twas wasted labor anyway! We went to the door and looked out at the flooded country and listened to the rushing waters in the branch, and when i noticed that the rescued sinner was eating bermuda grass for all she was worth I went to bed happy; but I didn't sleep, and it was three days afterward before I saw a sheep again.
Next morning when the Elder found that I was unable to ge out of bed he came upstairs and talked with me , and again he widened the breach in my theology by saying that it was only in theory that one should leave the ninety-and-nine and go after the runaway. "anyhow " said he "you want to be sure that the ninety-nine are sure enough safe in the pen, and if you can't get them there without making a choice you let your theology go and use plain common senses, instead. In other words you stick by the ninety-nine just sheep and let the sinnet go- well, lets say into the creek. for in the sheep business, the ninety-and nine are worth exactly ninety-nine times as much as the one--all the theology in the world notwithstanding."
"Anyway ", he continued, "You might have saved your labor, for the old ewe committed suicide in the ranch spring at the foot of the garden last night; and if she was predestined to die by drowning I wish that you'd left her in the creek,in the first place. I pointed out to him that the time and place as well as the means were undoubtedly included in the scheme; He chuckled and said "Oh yes, I am not blaming you. You were a foreordained instrument -- only, it's mighty inconvenient to have yo clean that spring."
Well, when I finally went back to herding again I was still weak, in fact it took about all the strength I had to even get on Sam's back and stay there till I got out of sight of the house , and after that I let Sam attend to the herding most of that day; and as a result of Sam's herding and my weakness there were three dead sheep outside of the pen the next morning.
Did I feel pretty bad , you ask? well let's say nothing about my feelings--they are not part of the story.
I reported the loss to the Elder and pointed out to him that they must have been foreordained to die by a wolf's bite and at just that time and place , and that once more I was only the instrument of providence and therefore he shouldn't blame me; but that, all the same, he should deduct their value from the collosal remains of my four days salary, and that, as for me, I'd see to it in the future , so far as in me lay, that the decrees of providence in regard to the death of sheep out of my flock shouldn't be carried out by my leaving any outside of the pen. He laughed heartily as he said that that was a good thing to hear, but that , as I had recently remarked , the place was also in the plan from eternity and he didn't know how my idea was going to get a chance to work.
I gave it up, for I saw I couldn't talk theology with him; I would jump the track every once in a while; but I assured him that, so far as I could make it operate, the wolves were going to have to do their full share of the work in getting sheep meat out of my flock after that day. They couldn't have any outside of the pen. And they didn't !
Long afterwards , when I pointed this out to him, he just said that those three were all that were foreordained to be eaten outside the pen at that time. And then I gave it up finally. About the pay, he remarked that since I so clearly seemed to be an instrument of providence---according to my own showing--he couldn't possibly receive a cent for losses which providence intended him as the owner to bear; and as I saw that this led to some more of his brand of theology, and, as I never did like to be worsted in an argument, I only defied him to prove that providence hadn't intended me to be punished for my carelessness. So we compromised the matter on the basis of my subscribing five dollars to the ministers salary,(The churches were mostly behind,as you know, in meeting their financial obligations.) Sheep being two and a half a head would make it more, but he said that one of the buzzard-eaten was an old , toothless ewe who had been liable to die t any time . He also said , as I turned to leave him, that the next time I felt like helping to execute the decrees of providence I should let him know beforehand and he would select the victims out of some more of those tooth-less ewes-- and it wouldn't cost me a cent.
I was as obstinate as a mule about that "next time" and assured him that there positively would not be any; and just then I had a first class thought and assured him that I would like to earn that five dollars as soon as possible, and I was sure that it would worth at least twice as much as that per month to him to have those old ewes out of the flock I was herding, since I was certain that they put bad ideas into the heads of the youngsters, and that I would undertake to kill every one of them for five dollars ; and then he could shear the hides and save the wool which would be a total loss under his plan.( you can partly realize how I felt about sheep by that time when I tell you that up to that day I had never succeeded in bring myself to the point of killing even a chicken.)
Then the Elder laughed out loud and said he'd think about it; and the next day the decrepits were put into a little bunch by themselves, in the orchard, and didn't bother me any more. Now Sir ! When the Elder refused to take that money from me because he believed me to be a foreordained instrument of providence I knew that he was consistent in his theology-- though I never liked his brand of the stuff. Yes: maybe it was because he could beat me in a theological argument.
Well, good bye! If you call that going. It's only a quarter to where you are stopping; but there will be no moon to-night; so, maybe you're right, and I'll say good bye. Oh, by the way! when you see Galligher just tell him to drop by soon. I've got another yarn for him. Yes Sir , not a doubt of it ! He'll come if you tell him that. Yes indeed I have though; I've thought of another one. You see I was talking, yesterday , to that man that gave you my word---told him that sheep story. How? Why I'll just tell it to you, no don't start yet; I'll not begin on it today. But;as I was saying, I was bragging abut Elder Jones' consistency , and after that man went ,I reccollected one time when it seemed to me that the Elder jumped the track; tough he proved to me --to his satisfaction, when I ask him about it, that his theology worked all right---even then.It has always appeared to me, however,that i ought to have been able to prove to him that he had jumped the track--once anyhow. Well, well,be patient! I'll tell you. It was this way. the Elder had a big bunch of hoggs running loose in the breaks and in the fall feed became scarce and the hogs just naturally took to fattening themselves out of the neighbor's corn Fields. Well , the men complained bitterly to the Elder about it; but he pointed out to them that, against his protest, they had repealed the stock law of the neighborhood , and that he didn't propose to keep his hogs up while other people's were not obliged to be in the same state..
Oh yes, Of course ! The law was on the Elder's side-- but I have always asserted that a good man shouldn't take advantage of a bad law. What ! You agree with the Elder, do you? Why, Galigher, that's just what I would have expected of you; You are the most argumentative agnostic that I ever saw or heard of, --and that's the worst that any man can say of you.
No Sir! I'm not going to argue theology with you to-day. I'm going to finish this hog story before dinner, if possible. Well then, to resume, one day the hogs came up missing, as we say, and the Elder had only to follow the line if flight of the buzzards as they flew to the carcasses, to see all that remained of thirty good meat-hogs. Yes Sir: the Elder was mad. He called it "Righteous indignation" but plain m-a-d expresses it very well.
He spent a lot of time and and some money trying to get at the guilty parties--for again the law was on his side, as there wasn't any law that would work to protect the farmers crops in the field.
Funny, isn't it , we've got more laws than any book the size of an unabridged dictionary would hold the titles of, yet there's no law in this country that will work to repay a farmer for depredations to his crops caused by his neighbor's stock. Doesn't seem to be injustice to you? Why , you miserable old stock-man! It's entirely too bad how one's pocket-book gets in the way of his seeing what is justice between man and man. But, you're no worse than the average, notwithstanding. No, he never succeeded in getting any one punished. The men who did it could only be guessed at, and they were all absent from the county on business every time the grand jury met for two years after the killing, and no witnesses ever were found , the case just dropped. I tried to console the Elder by giving him his own medicine. I told him that if the acorn crop haden't failed the hogs wouldn't have been hungry , and they wouldn't have been in the corn field , and then they wouldn't have been shot; and that , as , according to his own profession , the acorn crop was predestined to failure that year, he ought not to blame men who were only the predestined instruments of providence in killing those hogs at the foreordained time and place . What do you think he said to that? I couldn't have answered it my self , and I thought --for a minute --that he was stumped; but he only chuckled sort of below his breath and said that every word of it was true, but that he was the foreordained agent to see to the punishment for those men---not for having carried out the decrees of providence, but for violated the laws of Texas--which forbid the killing of any mans stock except his own. Well Sir , that ended me. I never talked theology with the Elder again after that. He was entirely too consistent .
You think you could have answered him , Galligher ? Why , of course you do. You're only an old agnostic and every time one gets you in a hole you just say you don't know;--as if that was an answer ! Why , it makes me mad enough to lose my church membership (if the deacons saw me )every time you get that foolishness off. Don't know , indeed ! Of course you don't ! Any body to look at you would know that you didn't and couldn't. Ho! ho! ho! that hits you square, don't it? What's that ? You don't know ? Galligher you're incorrigible. But, seriously, old neighbor, I'll never for get what you said under this very tree last full moon.
"What", did you say? Oh, I can repeat every word of it--verbatim et literatim, I believe they call it. Yes Sir, you said that -- in confidence to me and I'm not going to repeat it outside--you were always very mixed in your feelings when you were arguing in favor of agnosticism, being mad as you could be when we didn't see your good points and wouldn't acknowledge that we were beat when you got us to the same place as yourself and we had to say "I don't know;" but that you were always relieved when you heard us say--"Well, I just believe as I always did," because, you said, you always had doubts--judging by your own experience --whether your belief helped anyone a particle in being a better man. No ,no , Galligher , don't interrupt ! You also told me then and there that you had quit arguing on the subject of theology anyhow. What's that you ask? No Sir'ee, Mr.Galligher, that's what you said. I'm not going to repeat what I remarked during that confidential mood on that moonlight night. By the way those same moonlight-nights under the live-oak play mischief wit a mans feelings, don't they. But , that's all between you and me and the tree. Well, shake hands old fellow--if you must be going, I'll listen to that horse trading story once more if it will make you feel any better. Ha , Ha! No time now? Well, good bye
Well Sir ! Stranger , this is kind of you to drop in again. You see, I was afraid that I had run you off for good with that sheep story of mine. What? you enjoyed it ,you say? Shake hands again,man. What did you say your name is? I ain't going to call you "stranger" any more , though you are new in the country. No Sir, Mr. Van Bibber, a msn who has enjoyed one of my stories may not be my friend, but I'm surely his. Why, he has given me the greatest pleasure of my life. Happiness , Sir, is the test of success in this life; If you are happy you make other people happy, and vice versa.Now everyone of us, sooner or later, make ourselves and other people so miserable that the only way we can square the account is by making as many other people as happy as we can. Yes, yes: I know that the people whom we have made miserable are often removed from us, and that is why we must make it up to others. Pity that we can't remember that at the right time, isn't it? But, anyway, every time I get a man to laugh real hearty at my yarns I say to myself--One minute of happiness to your account, old fellow !
No Sir, it's rarely over a minute; more often only a few seconds; but I can't fool with seconds, so I always credit myself with a full minute, in the hope he will recollect the story and laugh again; and , anyway ,l there are some men who laugh as much as five minutes and then keep chuckling along under their breath until the next good point is made; and, as I don't often take credit for but one minute at a time, I reckon the account is kept all right. But when a man who don't laugh much at the moment comes back and tells me that he enjoyed that little talk and wants to hear some more, why , I forget all about the account -- I'm so happy myself that you can add half an hour to the right side of your own account, it you are keeping one. No sir! Mr Van Bibber: No man I ever heard of ever succeeded in getting the balance in his favor even in the end--at least, if it was , he died without knowing it. Now, Mr Van Bibber, as I said, I'm your friend; and I hope that you will act like you believed it. Here is the tree and the shade, and your chair, and the box of tobacco, and out yonder is the barn and the horse-lot and the feed:use every one of them as if you were my own brother or I were your father, and I assure you you'll make me more your friend every time you show that you do it as a habit and without thinking about it. Oh yes, of course. I know that you are all right. I took occasion to find out all about you from Galligher. You stopped with him the other night he tells me; and although Galligher is an old agnostic ,he is no fool; besides he's as true a friend to me as"E'er were man to man." Why , he just sits there and smokes, and smiles wile I give him and everything he believes in down the country for all I'm worth. More than that. he laughs hearty at all my jokes--though most of them hit him somewhere.
Of course, he pretends to be mad, at first; but we always shake hands at the parting so that neither of us will have to add a single hour to the bad side of that account. Yes Sir , Van Bibber, ( I'm going to leave the "Mister" off; no use for it between friends, anyhow) that side of the account always adds up by the hours, and once I said a careless word that soured the happiness of a human life for longer than I'll confess: turned it to clear gall. Yes Sir, only a word, and careless at that, and it was nothing but a habit I had fallen into in those days. I wasn't keeping account with happiness, then. I was just exerting all my energies to be good enough to get to heaven, and somehow forgot to be happy, and make other people happy, on this earth. But, speaking of forming habits, i's the easiest thing in the world to form the wrong kind. I'll tell you a story about that after awhile; but, if you don't mind , I'll just meander along a little about the matter of habits.Well, my friend, many years ago I was quite sick for a time and when I was recovering every one of my friends--and I've always been blest with a great many more than I deserve--used to come and chat with me to pass time away. Well, you know how it is with the convalescent. He imagines he is suffering with more diseases than the doctors know any thing about, and the first thing I knew I realised suddenly, one day, that I was making a perfect nuisance of myself by retailing to everyone who ask how I was, every ache and pain that I had ever had-- and a whole lot that I expected to have in the future.
The day that I woke up to what I was doing, the friend who did the wakening did it very kindly by talking and laughing about an old hypochondriac who we all knew; and I realized (when she was gone) that my friend hadn't even ask how I was; but, that , in spite of the lamentable lack of solicitude on her part, I had not spared her the recital of one--single -- groan.
It was a severe dose; but I gulped it down and made a resolution based on some words I once heard: " No man ever stated his griefs as lightly as he might." My resolution read, "Therefore , be it resolved: I will state mine as lightly as I can."
Next time my friend came we laughed all the time she was there. She told me all about the funny things the clown had said and done at Barnum's Big Four show, and when she went to go , I took her hand and looked straight into her eyes and said, " Much obliged to you, dear friend, for the lecture on hypochondriacs." And she smiled. Why, of course it was a women! Man alive! Have you ever met a male being with sense enough to give one a needed lecture in that way? No , no! When we don't like the way a man is acting we just cut him, and hunt up another specimen who will caper to suite our notion.
An angel, you say? No Sir , Van,( I'm going to drop that "Bibber", it's in the way. No objection? Well , that's all right then, Van,) No Sir! No "angel" about her: she was and is simply a good woman; and for this present stage of existence that's as good as need be---and a heap more satisfactory. Well Van, as I was saying, habits are easily formed but hard to break and I had quite a struggle with the hypo habit--fact is it crops up once in a while yet. So, in order to head it off, I formed a formula of reply to all inquiries, which I gave you in answer to your greeting this morning. Did you notice it? Yes, that's almost straight, it is "I'm all right except for laziness and general meanness; I don't feel good there."
Well, would you believe it? After I thought that I was cured of the hypo. nastiness I tried to quit the formula , and, by all that's good ! I'd formed a habit of it . Couldn't stop it. Tried hard too; and one day i didn't use it, and I'll be everlastingly blest if I didn't tell the friend I broke that habit on, all the ill's , real or imaginary,that had had me for all the time I hadn't spoken about them. When I realized what I had done I saw that it was a choice between habits, one bad, the other disgusting,and so, I took the bad one and still say "I'm all right except laziness and general meanness---I don't feel good there." But to a few friends I say "I'm all right et caetera." Now , Van, don't think of going unless you've business calling you. Gallagher said that you told him that you were down here for you're health, and tat you might buy a place and stay right here. so, if you've nothing pushing, just spend the day. No Sir'ee. I'm not going to say a word about buying in this locality. I've always given every man the same chunk of wisdom on that subject, no matter where he is thinking of purchasing a home; namely, don't do it now--rent for a year , or two years, and then you'll know more than any real-estate agent or owner will ever tell you about the drawbacks of the place, for they have all got them. And Van, if you are going to make your future home among those drawbacks you want to know for certain that the particular brand of Don't-come-up-to-requirements is going to agree with your constitution. If a man is buying a place for investment he can risk his judgement, if it's his home ? No Sir, Van! his happiness and that of his whole family is involved. House and ranch may be all right and neighborhood all wrong. See? I hope you will conclude to settle; but , rent first. It will at least give you a chance to get the right piece of dirt. Now I will tel you the story.
I'll not mention the name of the man that this tale is about; you will probably meet him in town some day and then you will recognize him and appreciate the story. the moral is against forming habits. No Sir, Van, no Sir! This is the right place for a moral. The ancients were all wrong about it. My idea is that their style is Chinese in origan and therefore backwards; but we will speak of that some other day. This yarn has got a move on itself and demands the right of way. Well, we will call him X. He is a good enough sort of fellow. I like to have him visit me. When he does , I take a rest. He is a good talker, but his sense of humor is lopsided: he never sees a good point unless he makes it himself, and then h enjoys it so much that I add lots of minutes to my credit account every time he comes, by just letting him tell his yarns without interruption and laughing with him over them. It's simpler than trying to get him to laugh at your jokes; you can't do that. At least you can't at the time. He usually finds them funny enough when he repeats them, though. When I used to try the other way I'd have to add whole hours to the wrong side of the account, for he was so miserable he couldn't sit still, and he was too polite to go. And so I studied the thing out, and said to myself ," your education is incomplete; learn to listen"-- and it works finely. I see that you've learned it, Van. Well, I can listen if you want me to; but I would hate to disappoint this story. All right then; if you say so. I'll tell you about X. He said in town the other day that he enjoyed visiting me better than any one else; Said that I was the only man in the country who could laugh at a joke at my own expense even when it had been deliberately pointed straight at me;
but that's all nonsense-- there are plenty of other sensible men in this country and the world at large. I laugh at any and every joke: It's the only way to take the sharp sting from what most people call "jokes," in order to prevent having to call them impertinences, or other nasty names. Now X. talks on most any subject that comes up, and talks well, too; but he is an enthusiast on two things: His particular pet isms are theology and politics. No Sir, emphatically no! He is not an enthusiast in religion;-there he is just an average man. It is theology and politics. And you can start any subject you please and before and before you've finished with X.he will prove---without apparently changing the subject a hair's breadth--that it is, as it is because it was pre destined from all eternity to be just that way---or that his particular party deserves all the credit, if there is any, and the other fellows party is entitled to all the blame, if that's the dish to be served up. Well , as we are good friends I pointed this failing out to him, one moonlight night as we sat here in the stillness as the soft summer wind rustled through the branches. No Sir, Van: never call a mans attention to his faults in the daylight. It would never do ! No no; it won't do . He's sure to get angry , and then it's all up ; for both of you are going to be unhappy after that and we are all of us so built that we invariably charge the unhappiness to the other fellow,--and happiness is the great thing after all. So , always choose a quite moonlight night, and under the live-oak if possible;but , by all means, right out in the free air of heaven. Why, I wish that I was at liberty to tell you of the talks I have had with that old agnostic, Galligher, under this same tree.
No Sir. He isn't an angel. I wish that you'd get that foolishness out of your head. Galligher is good enough to suite me, --that is by moonlight--,even if he is an agnostic; and that's pretty bad from my point of view. Well , when I called the attention of X. to his failing I told him that I did it in kindness ,because so many people wouldn't listen to him at all on any subject any more, for the good and sufficient reason that they didn't know who was going to be slashed at before he was done. They didn't care so much about the political hits, but when he struck at their particular pet isms, why, they just got mad--largely because he knew more bible than even the preachers or I do (but I didn't tell X. that) and when they would quote him one passage, if they gave it to him straight, he would always own up honest--and then in the next breath prove that it was a mistranslation; and the version he gave was always against them. But the fellow who either through ignorance or wilful perversion, misquoted a single word or picked out a line or so here or there and refused to quote the context, why, X. just made that man's life a burden to himself and all his folks. This latter part I told X. plainly, for we were feeling kind of soft and affectionate that night; and X. said that he was powerful glad I had up and spoken of the matter as he was perfectly aware of his failing and knew that he was all wrong and also that it cost him many friends; "but", said he "it is a habit that I formed years ago when I thought of going into the ministry . I studied hard and spent all my time in the study of our pastor consulting him on difficult doctrinal points, and I kept him in subjects for friday evening lectures by questions in the question-box for over a year. I used to practice the arguments I intended to use in my future work upon any and every one until I found out that I was driving my family wild and losing every friend I had on earth , and then" he said " I gave up the idea of the ministry; for I said to myself , if I can't control myself as a layman, what will I be as a minister?"
"Now," he continued, "I'll tell you a story of how I came to a decision. I had been struggling with my self for some days to keep from turning loose on my friends an argument that I thought was brand new in regard to eternal punishment. I was just wild to hear what some universalist would or could say in reply to me , but I couldn't find one handy. I knew it was no manner of use to try it on Galligher as he'd either say at some critical point of the argument "I don't know" or land me in the same predicament---and I don't like to argue with Galligher anyhow. There's no satisfaction in the world in talking to a man who honestly and consistently refuses to assume anything and boldly says "I don't know;" and furthermore it was no use trying it upon any of the church members I knew, for most of them wouldn't listen to me and those who would , believed exactly as I do; so I'd never find out the weak points in the argument from them. And pattings on the back by people who believe your argument before they ever hear it , may do other men a whole lot of good;--but it disgust me. "Why" exclaimed X. emphatically,"I'd rather be beat in an argument by that old agnostic Galligher." When I told Galligher about that he said, " Why old fellow, I didn't know X. was half as much a man as that," and I notice that Galligher listens with respect to X.'s talk these days--though, of course, he fights him just as hard as ever; but, he don't interrupt him any more.
Well , X. said that he held in until those arguments just boiled around in his head , and he was afraid that if he soon didn't give them air they'd soon become so mixed that he couldn't separate them when he wanted to use them; and it was when he was contemplating punishing one of his children by standing the anticipated offender up in the corner and making him stay there and listen while he went over his side of the argument that X. says his wife called him to help her rope a calf and drag him off from the cow while she tried to milk the unwilling mother.
well , it was easy enough to put the rope on the calf while he was sucking but , X. weighs only a trifle over a hundred and the pulling of was another matter , quite, for when the calfs head was away from the udder. he was still too far from the fence to be tied to the post, and X. couldn't pull him there. So they just kept dragging at the rope -- X. at one end and the four legged obstinate at the other--and sometimes the cow helped the situation by edging over far enough for the calf to suck.
But, however in the meantime, Mrs. X. was milking away as best she could, although she did threaten several times , to leave the cow-pen if X. didn't quit using language " unbecoming to a prospective minister and a gentleman." At last Mrs. said that she couldn't and wouldn't stand it any longer and she reckoned that was all the milk that cow was going to let her have that day, "and then "said X. to quote his own words," AS I attempted to get up of the ground where I had been sitting, because the calf couldn't pull me around as easy in that position as when I was on my feet, that miserable beast, who weighed twice as much as I did and had four feet, while I had only the usual number , just gave a bellow and kicked up his heels and made a dash for his mammy-- and the rope had got fastened around me and he dragged me along ; and when the cow saw us coming in that fashion she simply went to the fartherest corner of the lot as if old nick was after her -- and we followed. It was all over in a few moments for the rope untwisted as I rolled around in the dust and so fourth, and when I got up I was so indignant tat I was going to kill that calf; but I thought of something--just in time. So I ran out of that pen as fast as I could go and never stopped until I reached the field where my hoe was ; and I stayed there, working hard, till dinner time."
"Well," said I to X." I don't see anything in that to keep you out of the ministry--you didn't kill the calf." "No," said X. "I hadn't got to that part yet. It was while I was sitting on the ground facing that calf--heads not three feet apart--and we looking right into each others eyes, that it happened." "What?" said I. "Why," said X., " I went over in my mind every word of that argument about everlasting punishment to -that- calf; and when he dragged me around the lot it flashed on me in a second that if my wife hadn't been there I would have said it all out loud. And then I realized I was unfit for the ministry." "Yes;" I said to x., --and I shook his hand real heartly, " Yes Sir!" said I "your decision was right--you're totally unfit; for I never met one in the business who was a tenth part that much in earnest about the matter. "But," said I ," maybe if you had gone on to the end after that installation service you might have been able to calm down and take like the balance--who seem to be in dead earnest, so far as I can see, only at camp meeting or revival time. And X. said,--and he looked very funny at me,--"I thought of that and it was one of the things that determined me to stay out." So , you see Van, our motives are usually mixed. I said to X. " I'm sure glad you had religion enough left to not kill that calf-- he was only living up to his nature." "Yes." he replied," I've sometimes tried to feel proud about that; but this moonlight is too much for me; I'm going to make a clan breast of it to-night. Really, I feel mighty mean when I remember the thought that made me run all the way to the field wasn't religion or any thing like it."
"No?" said I.
"No!" said he, "it was that it flashed on me that that calf was a full blood-hereford bull-calf worth every cent of two hundred and fifty dollars in the market any day, and that I couldn't afford to ruffle a hair on his back--much less kill him.I knew that I was so mad that if he had been even half-blood I'd have slaughtered him without mercy then and there--or at least I'd tried to." "Feel better?"said I to X.
"Yes,"said X. emphatically "much!"
"Now ," continued X., I'm glad you started this subject; I have wanted , for a long time, to tell you or some other friend how it was with me. I've done my best, but the habit has got me.I've taken up politics for a second habit. "No Sir!" said he, "I don't care a continental thing about politics; but it gave me a sort of chance to not hurt people's feelings--at least, not nearly s much. When I know that a man is sort of touchy or sore on his theology , I try to talk politics and vice versa-- though I am not pretending that I always succeed. So you see, I wanted to explain that when I am trampling all over your particular theology pet I'm really doing my level best , all the time, to not say half the nasty things that come into my head; and sometimes I actually leave out a knock-down argument which I know you simply couldn't answer."
Now, I didn't think so very much of X before that night. I had mostly been using him to get credit marks on the right side of my happiness account with; but when he said that, I just reached over and took his hand and held it and I told him about my hypochondriac lecture, and at the end he didn't laugh but heaved a great sigh and said, "Great God! I didn't know that other men had the same thing to fight." And he went away so happy that I added ten whole minutes to the happiness account that night.
No Sir, Van , it wouldn't have been safe to have added more. X might have met the methodist minister as he passed his house--although it was after midnight--for the moonlight was almost gone, and I knew that if those two got within speaking distance the happiness would be gone for both of them. For X is a presbyterian ,and, although they both assert that they are happy while arguing, I judge that they both feel mean afterwards because of the good points which they were not honest enough to put their adversary up to--when he didn't see them. At least that's the way I feel when I'm that mean. The trouble is that when you get into an argument you forget that it is the happiness of the other fellow that's going to count in your favor. Yes, X and I have been fast friends since that night. You see, we understand each other. There nothing like a good talk under the live-oak by moon-light to let two people throughly understand each other. Once that's done maybe they will be friends.
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to chapter three
Howd'y, neighbor, howd'y ! Thought you'd manage to get around when you got that message.