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Show Howe About: Conversation On Quitting Work The Country . Bell Syndicate. WNU Service. By ED HOWE I HAVE met some opposition In niy contention that a man may learn much from conversation going go-ing on around him ; that he may thus acquire education as unconsciously uncon-sciously as he enta his meals, attends at-tends to his work, or otherwise meets life's Incidents. I have known a telegraph operator opera-tor to sit Idly for hours in a room full of clattering instruments, and suddenly grasp a key when his call came out of the confusion. So a man constantly In the babble of conversation may pay little attention atten-tion to It until something of Interest attracts him; a bit of wisdom, news, or a Jest he has not heard. Oscar Wilde left in books as great a number of bright sayings as any Englishman. All of them were suggested from mingling with men, first used in conversation, and the best of them later transferred to print. Men acquire education laboriously from books they are compelled to study as a duty, but easily out in the world, where every one has a little, and is busy distributing It. "Because a man loses his job," I rend somewhere, "it does not follow fol-low he should quit work." That is good sense. I know a man who lost his job as a maker' of radio parts. This morning I bought vegetables of him ; he continued con-tinued work on some land a neighbor neigh-bor let him use, and he has not suffered suf-fered the humiliation of calling on the Salvation army, the Red Cross, the county commissioners, or congress. con-gress. I have another neighbor who lost his job in a machine shop. He did not quit work, either; he Is now operating a laundry In his home. In case I am able to change shirts this week, I shall certainly arrange with this man to wash my old one. Some of my other neighbors are getting $15 a month from the county, coun-ty, and regularly their names appear ap-pear in the papers, under the heading head-ing of "Disbursements to the County Coun-ty Poor." I shall make a hard struggle to keep my name out of the list. I know most of the people peo-ple read it, and make ugly comments. com-ments. If the people are starving, what is to be done about it, since nature has no more to give? I once lived on a farm, and while I am able to recall some discomforts, I always had enough to eat Frequently, we used parched rye for coffee, and sorghum molasses for sweetening. The other day I found sorghum molasses mo-lasses on the table, bought from an old-fashioned farmer, and thought it still very good. We grated corn meal for bread, and always down In the feed lot were pigs coming on to supply meat when the smoke house began to show signs of emptiness. We had cattie for plowing, and to supply sup-ply milk. Chickens almost took care of themselves about the place, and supplied eggs in addition to a surplus of old roosters which, when boiled long enough, made fairly good eating. We had wild plums, Mackberries, and preserved them for winter use. There was plenty of fuel In the woods, and one man in the neighborhood tanned beef hides, from which another made shoes. In almost every house there was a loom, for the manufacture of a cloth called linsey woolsey, and this supplied clothing. It was a poor start, but we were never hungry or naked while 'waiting 'wait-ing for times to get better. And times never did get much better; indeed, I think they are harder now than I ever knew them to be on Big Creek. The big-headed town people should remember there is a place where they can at least always get enough to eat, and move out Into the country. Pretty much all the land will soon be owned by the government gov-ernment through tax sales, and almost al-most anyone free to file on It. In one of the periods of depies-sion depies-sion In Rome, Silerius called the poor together. "In your meetings," he said, "you make very severe charges against those who are feeding feed-ing you. It is not usual to criticize the poor, but many of you have very bad habits, and are not doing your part. In an emergency all should help. Some of the rioting you have Indulged in has only resulted re-sulted In destroying such food supplies sup-plies as we have. I give you frank notice this will not be submitted to again. If any of you have not heard of It, I announce I am head of the army, and will not join you in unnecessary destruction." The world has agreed for thousands thou-sands of years that the most dangerous dan-gerous period In the life of men is rna or wna oats irom sixteen to twenty-six. ... So of course an author au-thor appears to say the dangerous age Is between forty-five nnd sixty-five. sixty-five. ... I believe we are all better bet-ter behaved as adults than we were as savage children; and probably the most dangerous age of savage children Is between twelve and seventeen. |