"In Abe Lincoln's town."

459

ianuB

i n s

Glass /^y-cT^

COPYRIGHT DEPOSnV

4(

IN

ABE LINCOLN^S
TOWN"

Q^<>A./v«^4. TH_,^V^Q^I^V<\,^i,

Published by the Author
Hodgenville, Ky.

■ H&SHS

COPYRIGHT 1915

BY

CLAUDE HUDGINS

AUG 21 (915
^CI.A410179

I.

To a Hodgenvillian there is no more
interesting subject than the ''burg"
and its people. Indeed, to a great
many of us who have always lived in
the confines of her corporate limits,
it's about the only place on the map.
To us all roads lead to Hodgenville,
and the sky comes down to the
ground equally distant from all
points of the compass. But to you
who have traveled far and wide, it
may have occurred ere this, that
there are lots of towns as big as
Hodgenville.

It must be admitted there are no
great sky-scrapers towering into the
heavens like other great seaports;
nor do we have our streets paved
with brick or other hard substance;

4 "IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN"

nor are the streets we have cut up
and obstructed with the ever noisy
street cars. But we have purer air,
brighter sunshine, and happier hearts.
We are not annoyed with the ever
rush of business, and yet *Ve all"
have plenty, and live about as easy
as people who live in larger places.
We are not so large but that we are
blessed with a knowledge of every-
body, and almost everybody's affairs ;
nor so crowded with our own busi-
ness but that we have as much time,
if not more, to devote to other peo-
ple's business as we do to our own.

For indeed, in small towns things
to talk about and think about are
so scarce that when Sam is caught
holding Mary Ann's hand, it spreads
over tov/n like wild fire or some con-
tagious disease, and like fire and dis-
ease, it gets bigger the further it
goes. Town gossip, like mental telep-

''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 5

athy, travels from the firesides of
our homes down the streets, around
the corners, up the alleys, and into
the back doors of our stores and
business houses. Little lies and
imaginations, in their rapid flight
over the city, are transformed as if
by magic into living truths, and the
dirtiest meanest things that are ever
done or said, live and are handed
down by tradition from generation to
generation. Somebody's chickens get
into somebody's back yard, then there
is a fuss, hard words, bitter feelings,
and life-time enemies. One mother
thinks her daughter more accom-
plished than her neighbor's, or that
her son, William Henry, is too good
to keep company with Susan Jane, or
that Ada Gray is trying her best to
marry Thomas FeHx, just as though
the poor girl should not want to mar-

6 "IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN''

ry, and that it is a sin to think of
such a thing.

To one who has always lived in a
small town, and is familiar with its
history from observation and actual
experience, the ordinary happenings
are nothing unusual, but it is other-
wise to the man up a tree.

'IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'

11.

Did you ever go down the street
on a rainy Sunday night after the
hghts were out? Man ahve! You
can talk to me about the ace of spades
and black cats, but they are nothing.
Why, you can't find your way from
one comer to the other. My, but
how your heels do pop on the con-
crete! And you see streaks of light
from some upstairs window glaring
across the street like ghosts on the
wall. You ought to get up about 4
o'clock some Monday morning, and
go down through town, and see how
empty, vacant and deserted your
streets look. It seems like every-
body has left town and taken their
things with them. And then you
ought to walk up to the top of the

8 "IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN"

hill, and stand tip-toe on the brink
of the horizon, and watch the morn-
ing shoot sunbeams at the vanishing
night.

The red sun heaves a shoulder up
above Muldrough's Hill, and stares
sleepily along Nolyn Valley. For a
moment he hangs there, glancing
carelessly, with the vague and de-
pressing stare of a man who is tired,
at the little town, Hodgenville.

A carriage from Buffalo, bent on
catching the early train to Louis-
ville, dashes down the hill and turns
hurriedly toward the depot. A lean
house cat, picking its way across the
street like a thief returning from a
midnight prowl, hears the rumble of
the carriage, bristles up, takes to its
heels, and scrambles hastily over the
fence.

The people of the village are be-
ginning to stir about. Albert, the

''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN*' 9

hotel porter, carries out a pan of
ashes and dumps it into a barrel at
the side of the pavement. This done
he straightens up, and wonders
vaguely where he can find that drink
of whisky, that matutinal thirst
quencher which he must have each
morning on his dreary road to Tophet.
About this time the hack for the
train backs up to the hotel door, and
three tired, discouraged, underpaid
prune peddlers hurry out with their
grips and grumblingly climb aboard.
I can see those drummers as plain as
day. I don't know any of them, but
I know they are there, and would
not be making the jerk- water tov/ns
unless they were discouraged. They
have no faith in themselves, no faith
in their goods, and, of course, no
faith in God or the future, for if
they live to be old men they will
still be peddling groceries, if they

10 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN''

are that lucky. No wonder they
grumble.

Over across the square, and from
God knows where at this early hour,
comes Sip Simsette jingling a bunch
of keys in his pocket, and whistling
a foolish tune. Down the street clerks
are beginning to unlock their stores.
Strutting along like a peacock comes
Pewee McAdoo with his arms akimbo,
because he will wear those high-
waisted pants, and so on down to the
store he goes. Arriving there he
unlocks the door, and there exudes
into the street a perfected maelstrom
of blended odors. The smell of to-
bacco, spices, stale cabbage,and de-
caying vegetables all rush out in a
commingled stream of sickening
stench.

The sun is high now and hot. Fan-
ning himself with his hat, there
emerges from the hotel entrance a

''in ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 11

tall young man with long curly hair.
Out on the pavement he halts irreso-
lutely for a second, wipes the perspir-
ation from his forehead, lights his
cigar, and then with the determined
tread of one who has just decided
some momentous question, he goes
across the square, unlocks the door
of a tiny law office and seats himself
at a littered desk. Wearily, and with
the least possible show of interest,
he picks up first one paper and an-
other, toying aimlessly with each for
a second, then discards it. He is busy
trying to keep busy on a little two-by-
four matter that would scarce detain
the attention for a minute of a well-
trained claim clerk. But this young
man is a lawyer, and must perforce,
instill into every little action the
gravest possible import.

By this time Pubhc Square is at its
busiest. Over across on the far side

12 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN''

a farmer is tying his team. From
the pavement below him a hog rises
from his wallow, and scrapes his
muddy side against the concrete
walks. Flies swarm about the win-
dow, and out in the square below the
heat is well nigh unbearable. Pass-
ing beneath the window and so on
around the square goes Sip Simsette
in his aimless ramble, still vigorously
jingling his bunch of keys, and
whistling his endless roundelay.

Seated there at the "aforesaid"
littered desk, the young lawyer sizes
it all up. He knows that yesterday
made to-day and that they both will
make to-morrow, and it is a wonder
he doesn't grow tired of it all. But
this is life — 'To do without avail the
decent ordered tasks of every day.
Nay, — I'd rather see the rebel stark
against his country's laws, or God's
own mad lover dying on a kiss."

'in ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 13

III.

On yonder corner stand some men
talking to one another in a low whis-
per. You can tell from their ma-
neuvers that it is something secret.
It has the tinge of an undermining
plot. Look, how they glance around
with a nervous uneasy air as if they
might fear some one overhearing
them. Not a great way off stands
another bunch of men, they belong to
the other faction; and each thinks
the success of their interest depends
upon the others failure and extinc-
tion. Listen, they are saying mean
slanderous things about the parties
to the other side. Watch both fac-
tions for a few days; go with them
through their every day life; don't
look just at their outward garb of

14 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN''

policy, but look also at their acts be-
hind the curtain, their innermost
souls, and see how they cut and slash
and ill-wish each other. See how
each side will try to quash every un-
dertaking, though for the best inter-
est of the community; they are
against it because the other side, or
some member of the other side,
started it.

A young man sees the necessity of
a public improvement, and with no
personal interest, other than better-
ing his town, undertakes the or-
ganization of a good school, or the
construction of concrete sidewalks,
or the installment of a water plant.
He meets with some encouragement
and goes on. After devoting a year's
time and much hard work, the under-
taking is at last accomplished. There
it is, a grand success, a step toward
progress that the town should be

''in ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 15

proud of, — a lasting benefit to all pos-
terity. This young man who first
started the move, did not do it all 'tis
true; but he put it on foot and kept
it moving to completion, a necessary
function that no one else dared to do.
What does he get for his time and
labor ? Five hundred thousand knocks
and curses, and hounded to his grave !
He didn't expect pay for his labor,
nor honor for his glory, but he might
have been left to die in peace. But
what would painter do, or what would
poet or saint, but for the crucifixions
and hells? And ever more in the
world is this marvelous balance of
beauty and disgust, magnificence and
rats. Not Antonius, but a poor
washer-woman said, "The more trou-
ble, the more lion; that's my prin-
ciple."

I came down town last night, and
near the Court House in Public

16 *'IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN''

Square, I saw a crowd of men and
boys talking loud; some with angry
faces were threatening and swearing,
others looked scared and were tremb-
ling, as if undetermined whether to
run or fall dead. One of them grabs
another by the collar and says, "You
low down scoundrel beast, I'll kill
you." A lick is struck, and that fol-
lowed by another, down they come
rolling and tumbling in the mud. A
low cry is heard, and then it is all
over. Somebody is hurt! His hot
red blood is running down the gutter.
Next morning in Police Court the
wounded man pays his ''eight sixty,"
the other left on the early train, and
that is the end of it. The curtain
is lowered on this scene, and nothing
more happens till some team gets
frightened and runs away; then
everybody comes out on the street to
see a human being killed; but there

''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN 17

is no human being in it, and the team
whirls down the street Hke a cyclone,
and you think every little dirty-
faced boy in town is running off
with it.

The lean hungry figure of one
"Beeky" Fitch can be seen straggling
along the street as unconcerned as if
all eternity was before him. He has
a sad dejected look this ''Beeky" has,
that arouses your suspicion of a mis-
fortune in some deep-rooted love af-
fair. However, the little fellow
seems to have his part of the fun,
for now and then you can see him
expedite his momentum, give a squall
that would humiliate an African lion,
and pick up his heels with infantile
alacrity. In short, he sees some
sport and is hastening to it. Some
fifteen or twenty lads are congre-
gated in a game or fight. In that
bunch of youngsters may be seen

18 '']N ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN"

John, Willie, Clyde, and Daniel; and
from the noise they are making, you
would think about seventeen thou-
sand other dirty-faced urchins. You
can't tell what they are doing, but
they are evidently having the time
of their lives. Occasionally one of
them falls, or is knocked to the
ground, and he gets up all muddy,
but he is after another boy in an in-
stant, with all the vim and vigor in
him. Then he laughs, and then they
all laugh and yell loud enough to tear
their little lungs out.

And yet, notwithstanding malfor-
mation, worthless characters, and rot-
ten cabbage, Hodgenville, like other
places, is undergoing the changes of
time. Her buildings are being built
higher; her streets remetalled and
extended further out; old houses are
torn down and new ones built in their
places; old settlers die, and move

"IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 19

away, and new ones come in and take
their places; young boys and girls
grow into manhood and womanhood
with some improvement over their
predecessors — they dress better,
know more, and have less. Hodgen-
ville's schools are being enlarged, her
church steeples are climbing higher
into the heavens and extending the
shadow of their good influences
further and further out into the sur-
rounding evils. The signs of the
times are that Hodgenville will, in
time, become a God-fearing and God-
loving people.

Meanwhile, the clear and serene
Nolynn ripples on down the winding
channel of its stream just as it did
years and years ago, murmering the
same low melodies it did thousands
and thousands of years before any
one even thought of building a town
here — when Hodgenville was but a

20 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN*'

part of the vast tanglewoods through
which it flowed, and the wild things
crept out from among the big trees
and under-thickets and licked their
hot red tongues into it's clear cool.
But time rolls on, and changes come
and go, just as the waters find their
way to the ocean, and then back again
on the bosom of a cloud.

But you can't tell always what is
going to happen till it has happened,
and even then you don't know wheth-
er it is or just appears to be. The
one unsolvable question that has been
handed down through all the ages,
is this mysterious question of life:
How came we here? What are we
doing, and whither goest? It is a
question that all the barbarians, and
the innumerable modern Christian-
orthodox have disagreed in solving.
The Naturalist and the Atheist have
had their say. There have been hun-

*'IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 21

dreds and thousands of volumes writ-
ten upon the subject, with many good
and sufficient reasons for every the-
ory. Yet we all come back to the un-
solvable mystery, How? What? and
Whither ? I look out on the mysteries
of the great universe around me;
upon the millions and millions of
stars that dot the firmament of
heaven in the night time. I look on
all the mysteries of nature, and the
mysteries of life, and I ask myself
the solution of the riddle, and I bow
my head in the presence of the in-
finite mystery, and say, I don't know,
I can't tell. It is all a riddle, and
the key to the riddle is another riddle.
Meanwhile, out in the orchard, the
apple blossoms are falling lazily to
the ground; the buds are unfolding
into tender leaves preparatory to
shade the panting flocks from the
heat of another summer's sun; the

22 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN"

grass is weaving its velvet green over
the fields; and the old cow has al-
ready begun to switch her tail at the
thoughts of future battles with the
flies.

There is a meeting of the Ladies'
Book Club at the Blinkenstaff home
this afternoon. Some six or eight of
the town swell dames have already
arrived. They are very elegantly
dressed, these society stars are. Per-
sonal out-shine being the object of
their club, they have put on their
best silks with colors that would
make a peacock blush. They look like
fairies, and they talk like nymphs.
Every bloomin' one of them are talk-
ing at the same time, and about dif-
ferent subjects which they change
about three times a minute ; notwith-
standing every one can tell all that
was said, to-morrow, and more be-
sides. They have talked about most

''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 23

everything in town, except books, and
they would talk about books if they
could think of the names of any.
Some of these ladies are better and
smarter than the ordinary run of
women. The very fact that they be-
long to the book club and wear bet-
ter clothes makes them better. There
are two or three in the club who
think they are better than the others,
for the simple reason that they are
permitted to do most of the talking —
Some of them don't want to act smart.
Thank God, there are some good
women in a book club.

My dear Polly, you may have be-
longed to the book club for ten years,
or have been a member of the Ladies'
Aid Society for fifteen. You may
have read Cervantes, Mary J. Holmes,
or Honora DeBalzac, or you may have
even perused the history of ancient
Rome; you may have stood upon the

24 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN''

topmost pinacle of Gibraltar and
gazed out on the sad and solemn sea ;
you may be able to tell about all these
things, which is very good, and yet
not be able to help one step in the
advancement or progress of the world
by attending to the ordinary house-
hold duties of your home. You may
have a little better carriage of per-
son, your complexion may be better,
your hair trained more artistic, or
your clothes hang more picturesque
than women who stay at home and
work; and that is very good so far
as it goes, but after all, what is it
worth ? For how much can you cash
it? How much of your ticket will it
pay through St. Peter's gate? By
staying in dark rooms your hands
will get whiter, or by mixing and
mingling in the peacock societies you
may keep in touch with the gossip
of the town, or by the constant prac-

''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 25

tice on the dancing floor you may
have more admirers; but you can
build more character with a dish rag
or a floor mop. Not that women
should stay at home and kill them-
selves at work. We don't like the
man who expects that of his wife.
But we love the woman who loves
her home. We love the woman who
is not afraid of a little work. A lit-
tle work each day around the house,
a little cleaning or a little dusting
and arranging each day will make
any woman healthier and happier
than being dressed and laced all the
time, on the run listening to the
slanders of gossip.

What, you say this is being preach-
ed to ? Oh well, I know that you must
somehow live, and that it takes all
kinds of people to make a world ; but
if everybody were to run from the
things which have a tendency to

26 "IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN"

make them better men and women,
this would get to be one devil of a
world.

I believe the mail has come. If
you will go with me to the postoffice,
we will have a better point of view
to observe your town's humanity.
There is a bunch of it there waiting
for the mail to be distributed. There
are boys and girls, old men and mid-
dle-aged men. They are so crowded
we will have to elbow our way in.
But they will not mind that, they are
good-natured, and rather enjoy being
pushed and shoved around, especially
the girls. Some of them are already
pushing and crowding with no ap-
parent cause other than to laugh and
giggle over; they are feeling so good
they are just running over with
laugh. Others are engaged reading
letters which they have just opened;
business letters, social letters and

''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 27

love letters; and you can read in the
scowls and smiles of their faces,
their respective tenors. While others
are holding their daily papers up to
the light, with some two or three
looking over their shoulders, to see
what has happened down in Mexico,
or whether the protocol has been
signed in Bulgaria. Just as if it
made any difference in Hodgenville
whether Bulgaria ever signed a pro-
tocol, or whether there is a Bulgaria
or a protocol. On the other side of
this postoffice, there are some men
leaning against the wall. They are
neither reading, pushing nor laugh-
ing; but are just standing there in
solemn expectancy, as if they might
be looking for an appointment, pleni-
potentiary to Peru, or for a check
from the Bank of Bengal. But the
check from Bengal doesn't come; it's
just a circular from a department

28 "IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN"

store in Chicago offering shoes, men's
shirts and gentlemen's neck-wear at
wonderfully reduced prices.

There goes a beautiful young girl ;
she is just developing into woman-
hood. She is so clean and sweet, and
looks so nice and lady-like that you
think she must be a good girl. Watch
her, she is about to pass a working
girl. Will this well-dressed girl speak
to her and smile upon her a comfort-
ing good morning? No, she passes
her as coldly and unconcerned as she
would a caterpillar. What is the
beautiful little lady thinking of? Is
it of her home, of how she can add
to its beauty, or how she can relieve
her dear old mother of some care?
Is she thinking of her father's gray
hairs, and wondering whether she
caused any of them to come there?
Is she thinking of suffering humanity,
and planning a way by which she can

''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 29

help it? Ah, I wonder what are the
thoughts of this beautiful piece of
innocence. Are they about religion,
Sunday school? There! I see her
look at herself in the show window
and straighten her hair . She looks
down at her skirt and beautiful little
slippers. I see her smile upon some
well-dressed young man. She throws
her head to one side and glides along
like a goddess of love. She thinks
of how she looks, what the boys are
thinking of her, and how she will
shine at the ball to-night. She is
thinking of the sensation that will
run through her when her lover takes
her into his arms and skips over the
floor to the rythmic motion of music.
Pride! Vanity! Passion!

You can see young men, too, walk-
ing our streets, with their pants
freshly pressed, their shoes newly
shined, hair parted in the middle, and

30 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN''

hats on the side of their head, walk-
ing along with an air that would lead
you to believe they were worth mil-
lions, and so smart that it would not
be safe to get near them, lest their
heads should burst with superfluous
information.

And then, there is the scene in
front of the livery stable, the Aze
House, and the Conn Hotel. There
in the shade sits some six, eight or
a dozen of the town's idlers, whittling
on sticks, chairs or anything that
may be handy, and talking as im-
portant and all-knowing as a man
from Mars. Each one has a cigarette
between his fingers or a chew of to-
bacco in his jaw, spitting the red
juice on the pavement. They em-
phasize about every other word with
an emphatic Hell or a blasphemus
G— Dam.

In the hotel lobby are several other

"in ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 31

classes of our town's humanity, as
well as some humanity which does
not belong to our town; for there
are some six or eight traveling sales-
men sitting around leaning against
the newly plastered walls, telling
their ups and downs and their won-
derful achievements. There, also, is
Rastus Rabo, one of our town's im-
portant nineteen-year-olders. He is
a very wise young guy, this Rastus
Rabo, for he talks as much, or a lit-
tle more, than the most talkative of
these traveling men. He, too, is lean-
ing against the wall with his heels
hooked in the chair round; and is
continually drawing up his pant legs,
lest some one might fail to notice his
silk hose or the cut of his new button
shoes. He is smoking a cigarette and
every few minutes spits between his
fingers, and then reaches down again
to pull his pant legs higher, as if

32 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN"

they were continually and most ob-
stinately crawling down all the time;
but in fact they are almost above his
knees already, and if not careful he
will have them so high he will show
his drawers. However, it is neces-
sary that every one present should
know that this important Rastus
Rabo wears stockings instead of
socks, and so it will not make much
difference if he does show his draw-
ers, if that is all he shows.

But this Rastus Rabo is very par-
ticular to say something smart in
the presence of these traveling sales-
men, which after all, may be very
well, for one of these drummers, too,
thinks he is very smart and must do
a certain amount of talking. It would
not be to the best interest of the bet-
ter behaved of this crowd for one
smart alex to conduct all the conver-
sation lest it grow monotonous. Some

''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 33

of these traveling salesmen are ac-
customed to these outbursts of super-
fluous knowledge, and are not much
disturbed from their order filling.
But it does not happen that all these
men have orders to fill. One tall
dark-complected gentleman has been
sitting all this time listening to these
two parrots, and to catch it all has
had to sit back and say nothing. It
was for him that a great deal of this
big talk was made. This smart alex
and Rastus think he is an amateur
on the road, and that he is sitting
there wishing that he were as smart
as they.

Paul said, "The fool uttereth all he
knows, but the wise man keepeth it
in till afterwards." And it has been
said that deep water lies still, but
that the devil is at the bottom.
Finally, the quiet gentleman with the
closed mouth opens his mouth, and

34 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN''

without removing his eyes from the
two gibbers, addresses them:

''Young men, you seem to think
you are very wise. I judge from
your behavior that you think you are
especially endowed by the Omni-
potence to enlighten this great world
which you inhabit; and that if your
lamps were suddenly extinguished,
everything would cease to exist ; that
there would be a sudden jar and a
crash of the earth's axis, and this
old world would fly off into chaos.
But I want to say to you that it is
very doubtful if any such things
would happen at all, or if a single
railroad company would go into bank-
ruptcy; or that there would be one
less man walk the streets of Tampaco.
If either of you were to die today
they would still raise wheat in Ar-
gentine and mine in Peru, to ship
fruit from Los Angeles to the Tickers

''in ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 35

of New York. Yes, sir, I have no
doubt the big ships would continue
to plow the ocean, and the newsboys
on the streets of Liverpool would
never leave off the tomtom cry,
P-a-p-a-r! P-a-p-a-r!

I'll tell you, young men, this is a
great big world compared to the
small part you know. As to your
little world, Rastus Rabo, it does not
extend much beyond the corporate
limits of your town ; possibly there is
a narrow streak or two that runs out,
like the tail of a comet, and reaches
as far as Stithton, Vine Grove, or per-
haps Magnolia. Either of you or both
of you might be lifted up by a balloon
into the ethereal regions and wafted
across the deep blue sea to a foreign
seaport; and you would look around
with that vague and curious stare of
one who is lost, and ask where you
were; if told that it was Singapore,

36 'In ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN"

you would not know whether you were
in Jupiter or Northern IlHnois."

Out in the Square, some mis-
chievous scamp cries, ''Sick, sick,"
when there is nothing to sick; but
from four comers of the earth they
come yelping. Old dogs and young
dogs, town dogs and country dogs —
blue, black and brindled. So many
dogs, with such a variety of snaps,
barks and growls that you think
something has broken loose in dog-
dom. But dogs will be dogs, just as
boys will be boys, and as soon as they
discover there is ''nothin' doin'," they
tuck their respective tails and scat-
ter.

Go with me, if you please, into the
dead hours of night; follow me
through the dark alleys, and into the
back hallways and ante-chambers of
some of our secret backway build-
ings. Take a peep through the key-

*'IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 37

hole, or rather climb into a chair and
take a look over the transom. There
you will find the gambler's den. There
by the dim light of a candle you will
see strong healthy men wagering over
a game of chance. The excitement
and anxiety has long since driven
them to drink, and you can smell the
whisky, beer and smoke of a gam-
bler's hell. We shall not go into
every chamber of this building, lest
we should see something that would
shock our modesty, but suffice it to
say, that in other rooms there are
other games of vice.

Such are the frailties of a small
town as well as large cities. You
may think this knocking in thus de-
tailing the iniquity and depravity of
our little city, but it is here, and were
it left out and only the best given,
the tale would be but half told; and
the truth half told is but a lie. Be-

38 ''in ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN''

sides, we do not climb by following
the good alone, but also by avoiding
the bad. There is some good in the
worst of towns, and some bad in the
best of them, and less bad in any of
them than in large cities.

In the Public Square of this town
stands a statue of Abraham Lincoln,
this county's, this nation's greatest
son. It is a magnificent sculpture of
granite and bronze, almost fit for an
image of a god. It is not only beau-
tiful and grand, but it stands out
there a glowing model to the young
manhood of this town. It is hoped
that our sons and sons' sons may see
in it a guide post to grander and
nobler lives. It is hoped that when
the mean spirit rises up within us,
and we are about to do that which
is wrong, we can look up to this
heavenly image, and the evil will van-
ish from us; for, indeed, the person

''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 39

who can look up at the image of this
great man, and think of his kind and
generous heart, and still be mean,
must be a wicked and depraved soul.
When I stood a few days ago and
gazed at this magnificence, I thought
about the career of the greatest man
that ever lived. In my imagination
I saw him while yet a boy in the for-
est of Kentucky, around the fireside
of the cabin with his father and
mother. I saw him leave that cabin
when he started to Indiana. And I
saw him look back through his tear-
stained eyes a last sad look at his
childhood home. I saw him on the
flatboat down the Mississippi. I saw
him in Illinois, in the fields and woods,
and afterwards in the school house.
I saw him behind the counter at New
Salem, and I saw him chasing the
Black Hawks in the Northwest. I
saw him in Springfield, a rising young

40 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN*'

lawyer, united to his Kentucky blue-
grass bride. And I saw him in the
memorable debates with Stephen A.
Douglas, where intellect against in-
tellect swayed like the waves of the
sea, and Douglas went down and Lin-
coln came up. I saw him in the White
House in Washington, during the
blackest of the Civil War, when this
government was like a tottering
throne; and amid the cries and
screams of the battlefield, I heard his
calm voice saying: "A government of
the people, by the people, and for the
people." And I said to myself, that
man will live when time's destroying
arm has crumbled that statue to
dust.

'in ABP LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 41

IV.

One early May morning I stepped
off a train and found myself between
a lot of passenger trains. I was in
the city of Louisville, or more accu-
rately speaking, I was in the car-
yards of the Union Depot. A con-
vincing evidence of that fact was the
offensive odor of coal smoke, which is
not at all uncommon in such places;
and then there was the ding, ding of
the bells, and the hiss and thud of
escaping steam from the big engines
which so unavoidably attracted my
attention. Great iron horses of un-
wieldy power and strength, each one
seemingly trying to out do the other
in disturbing the peace of the early
morning. When I had done with the
car yards, and was in the heart of

42 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN"

the city, the most rivaled habitation
of our State, there were still unpleas-
antries that nauseated me ; for in ad-
dition to the coal smoke and noise,
there were the grocery stores half
filled with rotten fruit and vegetables.
And then there were the wholesale
whisky houses and saloons. Uh!
The sensation went through me when
I passed, and I wondered how they
could ever tempt a young soul to hell.
Passing still farther on, I smelt the
unwholesome odor of the butcher
shop, and again had to hold my nose
— spoilt fish, dried herrings hanging
up on the outside for sale, and half
picked chickens black with dirt and
coal soot ; skunk hides, dead rats, and
a thousand other rotten things filled
the air with unpleasant odors. The
passers-by did not have that radient
sparkle in their eyes and cheeks — the
barometer of health and vigor, but

''in ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 43

were pale, dark and swarthy under
the eyes. Sick from the impurities,
hungry for pure wholesome air. The
streets were crowded with these sick-
ly people, of different ages as well as
different sex, each one hurrying along
with their little dinner boxes to their
respective places of labor. Some, who
perhaps had but recently drifted into
these channels of life, were not so
deathly looking as others, but they
all wore that same sad look which in-
dicated that they had seen better
days. As I stood and gazed upon
these pathetic specters of cramped
life in our metropolis, I could not help
but think that happy is he who
pitches his tent on the brink of a
country town.

The next morning, in the quiet lit-
tle town of Hodgenville, I took my
morning walk, and v/hat a delightful
morning it was. How I did throw my

44 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN''

shoulders back and breathe deep the
pure wholesome air. How refreshing
and invigorating. At every deep
breath I would feel a pleasant sensa-
tion run through me like a cool drink
of water when hot and thirsty. It
was a May morning in Kentucky and
what more could be said. Petals of
the blossoming orchards were flying
here and there like so many snow-
flakes; the sweet aroma of the lilac
and hyacinth perfumed the air; the
butterfly and busy bee were at their
work, each nimble bee singing in its
ov/n language the songs of spring.
The green grass added to the life of
life, and how clean and tender each
blade spiring heavenward like a babe's
face smiling up at its mother. Nature
in her splendor and beauty lead me
on, and before I realized it I was far
beyond the town limits. A cool south
breeze was bathing the meadow, and

''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 45

robin redbreast, hard by, with his
pleasant melodies caused me to halt,
and I noticed that I was in a city of
small-winged folks, flitting from tree
top to tree top, each one chirping and
calling to his mate. A red bird flew
up from the meadow, perched on a
limb, and after giving me a look as
if to question my authority there,
shot up his crest, and in his melodious
voice said, 'Teace, Peace, Peace."

How delightful and sweet this is, I
thought, and why can't man be like
these creatures of God? Why does
he pout and sulk over some petty
difference; sulk, slander and throw
mud in the face of his antagonist;
yea, and get down in the mud and
fight like curs. Why can't we poison
the Mr. Hyde of our Natures, and just
be Dr. Jekyll? Think what it would
mean if every man, woman and child
could do away with the bad part of

46 "IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN"

their nature, and be their better self.
Do you follow me? If you do, you
see our court houses crumbling to
the ground, and our multitudinous
law books pitched to the dogs. You
cease to hear the demagogue poli-
tician talking about what we need
and what we do not need, and about
how bad the other fellow is. You
see even more than that ; you see that
great army of thieves, robbers and
whores marching out of their dens
of ill-repute into an honest world
seeking honest employment. You see
their dens cleaned up and painted,
and flowers and grass growing where
once it would not. You hear prat-
tling lips and happy laughter where
once you heard curses and groans.
The rotten stink of beer and whisky,
vice and tui*pitude and fumes of hell ;
the smoke of pistols, and the clatter
of bowie-knives are cleared away for
happy homes, and peace, peace, peace.

'in ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 47

V.

But thank God not all our pastimes
are games of chance or games of vice.
Some of our girls and boys are hav-
ing real harmless fun. Over in an-
other part of this town there is a
house party, and in still another a
moonlight on the lawn, and how they
are talking and laughing and having
jolly good times. You can see hap-
piness written in every face. You
can see pleasure in their smiles, and
in the sparkle of their eyes, and hear
the ring of joy in their laugh. And
it makes you happy to see them hap-
py. There is nothing like fun and
real enjoyment; it is the soul and life
of us all. There is the happy family
around the hearthstone of their home
— love, peace, and good will, hope and

48 '*IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN"

encouragement for one and all. There
is that little innocent babe smiling up
into the fond face of its loving moth-
er; another such picture the world
has never known. And then, too,
there are the little boys and girls
at play in the grass and among the
flowers. What a pleasure it is to live,
and to love and to be one of God's
children.

Let people laugh and have a big
time, there is nothing like it. We
can't stand a religious crank. It gives
us the *'Jimjams" to see a person so
religiously good they will do nothing
but go to church and Sunday-school,
and wear a long serious face like they
had buried their mother-in-law. But
laugh and have fun, it is necessary to
health. God does not want us to be
sanctified cranks. He gave us this
life and expects us to enjoy it, and
if our lives are miserable we are to

''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 49

blame for it ourselves, and are sin-
ners against our maker.

But do not make pleasure the aim
and end of it all; rather let pleasure
be the result of a well-directed aim.
Besides, there is more pleasure in
doing something worth while, not for
the sake of the honor or the glory in
it, nor yet for the sake of the self-
sensual pleasure it may give you;
but because it needs to be done; be-
cause something somehow is calling
you to do it. Young men, you can't
all make doctors nor lawyers nor
preachers. We can't all go to Con-
gress. Nor can all of us make J.
Pierpoint Morgans, Websters, Na-
poleons nor John D. Rockefellers.
Nor can all you young women make
George Elliots or Harriet Beecher
Stows. It is not for all of us to win
reputations and be popular. God
never intended that we should all

50 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN"

reach the top round of the ladder of
fame. But we can do even more than
that : we can be men and women. We
can Uve a clean and spotless life. We
can so live that when the pall of
death hovers around us and the light
of evening is growing dim, it can be
said that the world has been made
better by reason of our lives. It is
better to live the simple part of a
mother, than to travel to Egypt and
lecture on ancient Thebes. There is
more in giving your brother or fel-
low townsman a cup of cold water, or
in showing some disheartened soul
the foot-path to peace. Every day
you help to mold the character of
some one who follows you. There
are girls and boys looking at you as
their pattern. It is a question of up
or down. The development of the
human race fluctuates like the tides
of the sea. Place your criterion on

''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 51

the rock of ages and take a stand.
You may never conquer the world,
nor even revokitionize the town of
Hodgenville; but you can thank God
that you can so live that you will lay
foot-prints on the sands of time that
some shipwrecked soul may see and
take heart again. If it is only one
individual your influence for better,
it is that many, it may turn his soul
from a red hell to a shining star, and
maybe he will influence others; and
thus start in motion waves for good
that will strike the shores of etern-
ity. Such will last, and lift your feet
into the Royal Highway of God's re-
deemed people.

The big steel locomotive is running
at the rate of sixty miles an hour
across the plains of Colorado. It is
snowing. The little innocent flakes
come dancing and twirling joyfully
through the air; they light on the

52 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN"

iron railing in front of this engine,
and are crushed beneath the weight
of its mighty wheels. The big engine
laughs to see them light on its boiler
and melt into tears; but the little
flakes keep falling, and after a while
the track is covered with soft snow;
and the engine begins to slow down
from sixty to a forty-mile gate, and
then to a thirty, and ten, and finally
to a dead stop. She puffs and blows,
but she can go neither forward nor
backward. This mighty iron horse is
a prisoner of the little snowflakes.

The town Dorth, Holland, is lower
than the level of the sea, and is pro-
tected from the sea by a large dike
or levy. One night that levy broke
way, and the sea rushed in and swal-
lowed up the city. The city was never
more prosperous than the evening be-
fore that flood. Everything was
flourishing, and the good people of

''in ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 53

that little city went to bed that night
with happj^ and hopeful hearts, but
woke next morning in a watery grave.
Thousands of homes and lives were
lost; and the civilized world went
down in mourning through sympathy
over the terrible catastrophe. What
was the cause of this awful destruc-
tion? A little muskrat dug a hole
in the dike. It was a small hole, and
could have been stopped v/ith a hand-
ful of mud, but it was neglected, and
the water from the sea kept running
through, and making its way larger,
until at last the whole dam gave way,
and the water rushed in on the happy
people of that little city v/hile they
were asleep.

They are little things, — snow-
flakes and muskrats. So is a smile, a
kind word, a helping hand or a cup
of water. But it is the little things
in this world that make big things.

54 '*IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN"

If we can't do the big things, we
can do the httle things, and if we
will do them well, we can do great
things. If we can't live in big cities
and be millionaires, we can live in
small towns and be good citizens.

*'Be glad to live because it gives
you a chance to love and to work and
to play, and to look up at the stars.
Be satisfied with your possessions,
but not contented with yourself until
you have made the best of them. De-
spise nothing in the world except
cowardice. Be governed by your ad-
miration, rather than by your dis-
gust, and let your admiration be high
and lofty. Covet nothing that is your
neighbor's except his kindness of
heart and gentleness of manner.
Think seldom of your enemies, often
of your friends, and every day of God.
And spend as much time as you can,
with body and spirit, in God's out-of-

''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN*' 55

doors." The splendors of this beau-
tiful world are ours; the beautiful
fields and skies are our home; the
fields and picturesque landscapes
bursting forth into verdant meadows,
blushing fruits and yellow harvests
should thrill our hearts with the love
of life, and the hope of an exhalted
future.

It is exhilerating to know that
there are some such people in Hod-
gen ville; that there are people here
who are virtuous, and have clean
thoughts, and whose presence refines
and purifies; that there are people
here whose actions are not governed
by the love of money or personal en-
joyment; nor do they do what they
do because they want to go to Heaven,
nor because they are afraid of Hell;
but rather because it is right, and
they love God. Not an imaginary
god who sits on a golden throne and

56 "IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN''

wears boots and whiskers, but the
real God of all gods : The God that's
in the sunshine, and in the oxygen
of the air; the God that's in the run-
ning streams, in the sap of yonder
tree, and in the blades of the grass
on the hill; the God that courses up
the stalk of that flower, opens its
bud into a blossoming rose, and sends
out its fragrance to refresh the
passer-by ; the God that runs ma-
chines, that runs my machine and
your machine; the God that moves
our life-blood through all the hidden
channels of our bodies, and makes us
see, taste, move, and love.

Not but that some of us will go
considerably out of our way for a sil-
ver dollar, but in the midst of this
chopping sea of civil life, such are
the clouds and storms and quicksands,
and a thousand and one items to be
allowed for, that a man has to live.

'In ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 57

if he would not flounder and go to
the bottom. But in Hodgenville you
have friends who are your friends,
not because they hate your enemies,
nor do you have to continually court
them lest your enemies take them
from you, but they are your friends
because you have a common idea of
what is right and what is wrong.

But after all, the good and the bad,
the just and the unjust, so far as hfe
here is concerned, it doesn't make
any more difference when Utah was
admitted to the Union, than it does
who murdered Julius Caesar; for we
soar but little higher in our intel-
lectual flights than the columns of
our daily paper. There are those, it's
true, who know that Napoleon lost
the battle of Waterloo, least wise
they have heard it, but they don't
know whether Maeterlinck was the

58 "in ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN"

author of the Declaration of Inde-
pendence or a ''tooth-dentist."

Life in small towns is life in the
country, life in the city. It's between
the two ; and so on around the world,
life is pretty much the same, just
different ways of living it. Any-
v/here and everywhere it's sweet as
nitrous oxide ; the fisheiTnan dripping
all day over a cold pond, the farmer
in the field, the negro in the rice
swamp, the fop in the street, the
hunter in the woods, the barrister
with the jury, the belle at the ball,
all ascribe a certain pleasure to their
employment, which they themselves
give it. Health and appetite impart
a sweetness to butter, bread, and
meat. We fancy that our civilization
has got on far, but we still come back
to the primer.

In LaRue County, on a cold snowy
morning, smoke can be seen curling

''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 59

out of the tops of chimneys. If you
will enter the cabins and huts from
whence this smoke comes you will
see a picture of backwoods realistic:
A stout good-humored housewife
holding a healthy dirty-faced baby
in one arm and churning with the
other; the rustic husband in one
corner with a cob pipe in his mouth,
looking lazily at the fire and boiling
kettle. Around the fire are five or
six larger children playing and romp-
ing like overgrown hound puppies.

This may not be a familiar scene
to some, and yet there are many men
in the world who came from just such
firesides ; and though they have been
away for ten, twenty, or thirty years,
the picture is still vivid before them.
And there are times when they would
like to go back to this rural life and
have their memory refreshened;
times when they see the hard reality

60 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN''

of things about which they have
been dreaming; v/hen some unex-
pected catastrophe springs up, stares
them in the face and makes them
reahze that the road up is one con-
tinuous struggle. When we who have
come from these rude homes, advance
that far that we begin to discover
that out in the live world everybod}^
is after the almighty dollar, down
in our throats is a heavy something
that we can't quite swallow ; it is the
instinctive yearning for the faith and
frolic of our childhood.

You may not be thinking of such
a scene, or you may never have had
such a thought ; if not you have never
been there and lived that close with
nature. To those who were born,
lived and died in the LaRue County
Hills that's about all there is to it,
but be bom and raised there and then
emigrate to the more civilized parts.

''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 61

and you are like some wild beast that
has been caught, but never tamed.
That instinctive yearning for the
primitive is always in you, and some-
times it riles up involuntary, and you
snarl, growl and strike the cage ; but
there is no going back, except on the
wings of memory, to your yesterdays.
But life creeps along from point to
point along a line that's nameless as
the thing that makes you what you
are, and v/hether on Coney Island or
in Hodgenville there is no way of tell-
ing how it happened, or of how it
could have been otherwise. We some-
how live, and get along, and about as
well one place as another; for it is
the other place after all that makes
us want to live and go galloping on.
Life is a struggle, whether in Liver-
pool, Cuxhaven or Fairthorn. And
times are always hard, whether under
a Democratic or Republican adminis-

62 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN"

tration. Some men give up the ghost
where others go on and conquer. The
thing to do is keep kicking, and you
will finally land or go to the bottom.
The result of the one is about equal
to the other; there is no difference
after we are dead and gone to the
devil. All our yesterdays have lighted
fools the way to dusty death; but
the weary world wags on in the wake
of its gray to-morrows.

Christmas comes, and with it the
firecrackers, skyrockets, roman can-
dles and torpedoes. We fairly take
the roof off our town, we are so glad
that Christ was bom, lived and died
to save a world. We are so happy
over it that we are just pounding
each other with snowballs, if there
is any snow to pound with; if not,
then with footballs or boxing gloves.
Old men stand by and watch it;
church deacons, preachers and town

''in ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 63

and county officials stand on the cor-
ners and see this batthng well done,
if they can keep out of it themselves.
But let's not watch these Christmas
frolics too long ; it's contagious. Let's
go up Main street, and turn out High-
land avenue toward the County Jail.
There we will see men spying through
their little iron-barred window to get
a peep at the ''Merry Christmas"
that's being so generously scattered
abroad. We might stop here and
write a book about this jail, "whose
walls are strong." "But the moving
finger writes, and having writ, moves
on; nor all your piety nor all your
wit shall lure it back to cancel half
a line; nor all your tears wash out a
word of it."

64 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'

VI.

And yet, notwithstanding all this,
amid the fluctuating scenes of human
life, there comes a time, when all,
the good and the bad, the wise and
the unwise, must stop and gaze with
solemn awe at the sad and melancholy
spectre of the dead. In the very
midst of the gayest hilarity of the
ball or lawn party, or v/hile the dice
are rattling and vice is running ram-
pant, there is somebody in our little
town at the drowning point. Some-
body's lamp is going out. And while
some of our fellow townsmen are run-
ning over with joy at the gay festivi-
ties, others are standing by the bed-
side of a dying friend with tears run-
ning down their cheeks, moaning and
sobbing over the loss of a departed

"in ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 65

soul. What a change of feelmg it
brings over us when returning from
our nightly pastimes we are ap-
prised of the death of a friend or ac-
quaintance. But a few days ago we
followed the corpse of one of our
young and best citizens to its resting
place on the hill. And as we stood
around the newly-made grave, listen-
ing to the last sad song, how our
memories carried us back over the
years, and landed us again face to
face with her in her many happiest
hours. We will long remember her
kind heart and gentle manners. But,
oh, for the smile of that cold face, or
for the sound of that voice that is
still! How dismal and dreary it
makes us feel to see our dear friend
lowered into the ground, and to hear
that rattle of the dirt upon the coffin.
And then again, when we come back
to town, and to the home of the be-

66 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN"

reaved ones ; there's the saddest part
of it all; there is a chair vacant, a
voice silent, a face missing, a mem-
ber of that heart-aching family gone.
Not gone visiting for a few days or
weeks, but gone forever ; gone to that
eternal resting place from whence no
one ever returns. Her happy voice
and bright smiles will never cheer or
brighten that home again.

Sooner or later we will all be sum-
moned to answer the same call. ''Per-
haps just in the happiest sunniest
hour of all the voyage, while eager
v/inds are kissing every sail, we'll be
dashed against an unseen rock, and
in an instant hear the billows roar
above a sunken ship; for whether in
mid ocean, or among the breakers of
the farther shore, a wreck at last
must mark the end of each and all."
"But the gay will laugh when thou
art gone, and the solemn brood of

''IN ABE Lincoln's town" 67

care plod on, and each one as before
will chase his favorite fantom." Just
now you may be in the very bloom of
your glory; you may have friends
tried and true; and when you are
dead they may gather around your
dead body and listen to the funeral
sermon. But only a portion of them
will follow your corpse to the grave;
and a great many of them will have
erased you from their memory, ere
they have returned to their homes
and business. And next summer it
will be a few, only a few, who will
carry flowers to your grave. Others
will have taken your place in their
lives, and in the routine of the world ;
and things will move along about the
same as if you had never been. This
is not only true with you and with
me; but the chief citizen, the most
important personage of our mu-
nicipality, may die to-day, and to-

68 "IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN''

morrow somebody else will take his
place.

In short, coming more direct to the
point I have been trying to drive
home around the back way; there is
no one man, nor any set of men, who
own, make or control this burg. In
other words, this is no one man's
town. There may be individuals, it's
true, whose name would suggest to
you Hodgenville, but that is because
they have always lived here and don't
know much else, and not because they
own or control the town. For the
name Moses Scapegrass or Woodson
Huckleberry would suggest to you
the town in which they live just as
much as would the name William
Moffett, John W. Skidpath or Jocel-
inus de Brakelonda; and yet, each of
them are only an individual part of
the whole— Hodgenville. "Billy Goat,"
''George Cooney," and "Uncle John,'*

"in ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 69

sorry and insignificant as they are,
go to make up this town, and fill their
part in the great stage of life and
action. Rastus, McAdoo, and old man
Sam have their part, and so does the
town marshal, and the board of trus-
tees; but none of them, nor all of
them, are any more the town of
Hodgenville than Woodrow Wilson
and his appointees are the United
States of America. And Woodrow
Wilson is no more the United States
than is the Rock Island Railroad or
the great Shoshone Dam. I have
seen boys who thought they were the
whole town, and men who thought
they were the United States; and I
saw one man who thought he was the
whole world, till he locked horns with
"Boss Barnes" and "Sunnie Jim," and
because he could not throw it over
them, stood up in bold silhouette, and
said, "ril create a world of my own,"

70 "IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN"

but he foundered. And so this man,
Hke the rest of us, is only part of the
whole.

The question is, what part are you ?
Are you a part of the United States,
or are you just a part of your indi-
vidual town; and if so what part?
And do you fill your part? Is your
part shedding tears, or do you laiigh
some, and do you make other people
laugh? Is the world, or your town
any better, or is any one made hap-
pier, or has any one's load been light-
ened by reason of you ? Do you make
a good citizen ? Does Hodgenville get
along any better by reason of you
living there ? Are your fellow towns-
men proud of you, or would they pay
your railroad fare one way for a thou-
sand miles to get rid of you, and feel
like they had a bargain at that ? Are
you a chronic knocker, or do you hollo
'*hurrah" when a good move is made.

''in ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 71

whether you had anything to do with
it or not ? Of course, we all have our
part in making the town; whether
the fruits of our labor stand out a
glowing model for others, or whether
it sinks down to shame, a signal
warning, we do our part for good or
bad. But it is just as easy to be a
good citizen as a bad one. As Thoreau
said, *We are all sculptors, and our
material is our own flesh and blood
and bones.'' Life is a habit. And to
build character we have to make the
habit. It is just as easy to get the
habit of looking on the bright side
as the dark side, if some "tar-heel"
has not blacked both sides, as the
boy said when he joined the army. It
is just as easy to love your town as
to hate it.

People! Citizens of Hodgenville!
Fellow townsmen! We all have our
faults, and we all have our good

72 "IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN"

qualities. There is so much good in
the worst of us, and so much bad in
the best of us. **In men whom men
condemn as ill, I find so much of good-
ness still ; and in men whom men pro-
nounce divine I find so much of sin
and rot, I hesitate to draw the line
between the two where God has not."
God, help us to see ourselves as we
are. Help us to see the mote that is
in our own eye. Help us to make an
inventory of our lives, so that it may
stand out before us a plain picture
just what we are. Help us to see
the good that is in our brother as well
as the bad, and when we see the bad
that is in the other fellow, teach us
to look upon it as a guide post, a
signal warning from danger, rather
than a lever to drag him further
down, or a joke to gloat and chuckle
over. Let us see the faults of our
little town, but don't stop there, help

''in ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 73

US to remedy these faults. Let us all
join in one incessant heave at the
wheels of progress, and push Hodgen-
ville on and upward into a cleaner
and better town. Help us, Almighty
God, to love our little town, and above
all, to love one another.

74 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'

VII.

To hear the yelp of the coyote, you
must lie alone in the sage brush near
the pool in the hollow of the low hills
by the moonlight ; it will never reach
your ears through the bars of the
menagerie cage. To know the moun-
tains you must confront the avalanche
and precipice unaccompanied, and
stand at last on the breathless and
awful peak, which lifts itself and
you into a voiceless solitude. To
comprehend the ocean, you must
meet it in its own inviolable domain,
where it tosses heavenward its care-
less nakedness, and laughs with
death. But to know and love your
town, you must go away from it,
out into other distant, unknown
places where you can compare them ;

''in ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 75

or better still, visit all these places,
where you can estimate your town's
significance, and God's Infinitude.

One autumn evening, several years
ago, I was walking along the streets
of Portland, Oregon, the fartherest
from home I had ever been. I had
been av/ay from home some two years,
and had not received a letter from
there for a long time. I was not
what you would call "homesick," but
just felt as if I would like to see some
of the folks, or at least hear from
them. I had just struck Portland
that afternoon, and was walking up
the street, looking at the strange
faces; when suddenly the melodious
voice of Bernard Hardtlitz, on one of
those long-horned graphophones,
caught my ear. He was singing **My
Old Kentucky Home." It was sweet,
and touched me, and I guess the oper-
ator must have noticed it, for he put

76 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN''

that other record on. I don't know
what you call the piece, but to a Ken-
tucky boy thousands of miles away
from home, it is the sweetest song
that ever floated out on the still
night air:

"I was born and bred in old Kentuck,
In my old Kentucky home.
Then take me back to old Kentuck,
There's where I like's to roam."

Its words and peculiar melody made
my hair stand on end. I could see
that long-winding stretch of steel
rails over the Rocky Mountains,
across the great plains, the Missis-
sippi Valley, and into the fields and
meadows and apple orchards of Old
Kentucky. I reached up and got my
hat, tipped it to the operator and
graphophone, walked out and down
to the station and asked the agent the
fare to Louisville. He reached up on

''in ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 77

a high shelf, took down a book all
covered with soot and cobwebs, and
informed me that it was $56.38. I
knew I was a long way from home,
but until then I did not realize how
far I was in dollars and cents. I
thanked him, and walked back up
town to see if I could find a place to
lay my head. But somehow there
was a lump in my throat, a something
I could not quite swallow. Me-thinks
now that were such my temptations
again, I would ''mount the rods" or
"deck a passenger train" and steal my
way back to sweet old Kentucky.

I love Kentucky. I love her fields
and skies, her flocks and herds, her
blue-grass knobs and picturesque
meadows; and I love her virtuous
women and brave and fearless men.
And best of all Kentucky, I love
Hodgenville, that little town on the
banks of the clear and serene Nolyn.

78 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN''

That little town near which I was
bom, and grew up to be a man. Where
I have my friends and I have my en-
emies, where I've had my ups and
I've had my downs. That little town
on the side of the hill, where the rain
falls, and the sun shines and the
breezes blow; and above all, where
God still lives. She has her faults,
she has her dirty dives it's true, and
she has her frailties yet to mend;
but take her all in all, for men and
women, good and bad, for happy
homes and loving hearts, it's next to
the best place the good Lord ever
made.