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HINTS IRON HISTORY: Lin f^'i T "’
UCK-A-LUCK, Duck-a-Luck, the sky is
falling! ” “ How you know, Chick-a
lick?” “Saw it with my eyes, heard it
with my ears and a piece of it fell on
my tail.”
“Goose-a-loose, Goose-a-loose. sky is
falling! ’ ’ How you (mow, Duck-a
luck?” “'Chick-a-lick told me.”
1 am telling it as the niggers on the
D
place told it to me. I’ve seen it a little different,
but we’ll go into no controversy about the ver
sions.
Here’s the first thought suggested to me by the
text: Chick-a-lick was idle.
She (or he —maybe I had beter say “he”—but
1 11 say “she” and risk it) was standing under a
rose bush, we are told by the context, when she be
came impressed to promulgate the startling news
written above.
She was idly standing under the rose bush when
a rose petal sifted down through the summer air and
fell on her tail. Thereupon she started with the
story aforesaid.
I think Chick-a-lick was honest. I am not inclined
to believe that she maliciously purposed to precipi
tate a panic. But idle people are always scary.
When the devil poked his head in the win
dow of Dunstan’s blacksmith shop, you remember
Dunstan promptly caught him by the nose with a
pair of red-hot tongs and hammered him over the
head until his satanic majesty was willing to skidoo.
You know the reason Dunstan did not stampede
when the head stuck in? He was busy.
You know the reason he did not rush out to
bear the fearful news to Duck-a-luck ? He had an
iron in the fire. He didn’t want to go off and
leave it.
Again, an idle person is always unduly eager to
tell something with his mouth. It is estimated by
experimenters that 150,000 units of energy are gen
erated daily in the human body. This energy must
have an outlet. If you do not turn the steam
through the steam-chest and cylinder, you must let
it out through the safety valve.
Chick-a-lick idling under the rose bush had energy
to spare. It’s a pity to distress your neighbors with
your surplus steam.
Not only does an idle person desire to disseminate
information, but the ardor of this desire is likely to
warm him into exaggeration.
Chick-a-lick overstated the matter in asserting
that a rose petal was the whole sky.
Secondly, it’s a long step from a single instance
tc a general conclusion.
I heard G. Stanley Hall make a series of talks on
evolution, or rather, on adolescence, using the theory
Only Three More Weeks
People generally RECEIVE presents on their birthday, but this paper is going to GIVE a present to every subscriber
who WILL receive it. Listen: Congress has fixed it —we can't help ourselves. After April Ist it will be unlaw
ful for us to keep on our list any subscriber who is more than one year behind. We know that this “nightmare in
the daytime" called a panic has caused many of you to say: “Tomorrow. The amount I owe is not very much, and
as soon as times are easier I will send THE GOLDEN AGE my dues and renewal.” Now we are going to cele
brate our second anniversary by meeting you part of the way: For the next 30 days we will allow you to settle
all back dues and renew at the rate of $1.50 a year. That is—if you owe us for two years and wish to pay up
and renew, instead of sending us $6 for two years past and one year in advance, just send us $4.50 and it will
pay up everything and put you one year ahead. If you owe for one year and wish to renew send us $3 instead of
$4. Calculate on this basis for the full time. Look at your label. For instance, if it reads “June 1, 07” you owe
us from then until now. Make your calculations at 12j4 cents a month and add to this $1.50 for another year and
send to us immediately. If you are already ahead and wish to take advantage of this offer send $1.50 and we
will advance your figures one year ahead of your present date. We do not wish to part company with any of our
subscribers, but the law must be obeyed. So we make you this present on our birthday to show our appreciation
of your friendship. What is your answer?
THE GOLDEN AGE, Atlanta, Ga.
The Sky Is Falling!
Sy A. H. Ellett.
of evolution to elucidate the phenomena of that in
teresting period.
I had read in the newspapers of .evolution, but I
had supposed they were treating the subject flip
pantly. I had not paid much attention to them. But
now Dr. G. Stanley Hall is going to speeak. Let me
listen. The high priest of the theory is here, let
me harken. No, he is not Chick-a-lick. He is Duck
a-luck, and I am Goose-a-loose —I and some 300
other Geese-a-leese are listening.
Saith Duck-a-luck: “A child standing before
you is nervous; twists and squirms—paddles with
his hands and shuffles his feet.
“Therefore, the child used to be a fish! That’s
his fins and tail working.
“A baby immediately grasps anything that
touches or tickles his palm—he ‘wrestles with your
finger.’ Therefore, he used to be a monkey, and
it was all-the-time business with him grabbing limbs
and holding on.
“Further, a child standing before you is con
stantly picking at himself; got used to it long time
ago, when he spent a large part of his time sitting
up in a tree pulling his hairs out one by one. And
that’s the reason he’s not as hairy as his Simian an
cestors were. Got rid of the hair, but held on to
the habit, or maybe the habit held on to him.”
I nudged a Goose-a-loose that was sitting next to
me and said, sotto voce: “Sky is falling.”
Mark Twain tells of how Bemis was chased up
a tree by a buffalo bull. Or, rather Bemis himself
tells about it. The bull was right behind him in
mad pursuit, when his horse bucked and threw him
about thirty yards off to the foot of the only
tree in nine counties. He scaled up the tree, the
bull right behind him. Whereupon he dropped his
lariat, noose-fashion (the horse had kicked his sad
dle clear up into the tree), over the bull’s neck and
let him have it square in the face with a double
charge from his old “Allen.” When the smoke
cleared the bull was hanging by the neck twenty feet
from the ground, going out of one convulsion into
another, faster than you could count.
When Bemis had finished telling the stirring story
the following conversation ensued:
“Bemis, is all that true, just as you have stated
it?”
“I wish I may rot in my tracks and die the death
of a dog if it isn’t. ’ ’
“Well, we can’t refuse to believe it, and we don’t;
but if there were some proofs.”
“Proofs! Did I bring back my lariat?”
“No.”
“Did I bring back my horse?”
“No.”
“Did you ever see the bull again?”
“No.”
The Golden Age for February 27, 1908.
“Well, then what more do you want? I never
saw anybody as particular as you are about that.”
But even if a piece did fall, maybe the wholel
sky was not coming.
Any of you remember a reform advocated of
which some Chick-a-lick did not augur evil?
Know of a Duck-a-luck that refused to believe it,
and failed to expedite the news to Goose-a-loose?
When the Roman soldier climbed up the pedestal
and split the head of the Egyptian god with his
battle axe, the Egyptians fully expected to see the
earth open and swallow the Roman. It didn’t.
When Jefferson was running for the presidency
certain Chick-a-licks announced that his election
would be the signal for the whole frame of the firma
ment to turn loose and fall.
So impressed were the Plymouth Rocks with the
certainly of the disaster, that they declared New
England would secede from the Union, and thereby
save her tail feathers from the impact of the im
pending fall.
Buckle says of the Duke of Wellington: “It is
notorious that every great measure which was car
ried, every great improvement, every great step in
reform, every concession to the popular wishes, was
strenuously opposed by the Duke of Wellington,
became law in spite of his opposition, and after his
mournful declarations that by such means the secur
ity of England would be seriously imperiled * * •
Experience has amply proved that those vast schemes
c.f reforms, which the Duke of Wellington spent his
political life in opposing, were, I will not say expe
dient or advisable, but indispensably necessary.”
But grant that the sky is falling! Then, stay and
help prop it up. Shoulder it up, Chick-a-lick
instead of rushing off to frighten your neighbors
about it.
Schools in the rural districts poor? Stay out there
and make them good.
Literary environment meager? Stay at home and
make it masterful. Try Emerson’s plan of having
the world make a path to your door, instead of
your wearing out all the roads of the world trying
to reach some one’s else door.
In war, when the battle is on, the best soldier
hunts and holds the weakest point in his own line.
Why should not the citizen do the same in times of
peace ?
Do we rejoice when the roses bloom? We shall
not grieve nor be alarmed when the petals fall.
“There is no death! The dust we tread
Shall change, beneath the summer showers,
To golden grain or mellow fruit,
Or rainbow-tinted flowers.
“There is no death! The leaves may fall,
The flowers may fade and pass away —
They only wait through wintry hours
The warm sweet breath of May.”
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