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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0391248 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #67649 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/67649) diff --git a/old/67649-0.txt b/old/67649-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 329b6e2..0000000 --- a/old/67649-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1712 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Lumber Lyrics, by Walt Mason - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Lumber Lyrics - -Author: Walt Mason - -Release Date: March 17, 2022 [eBook #67649] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Charlene Taylor and the Online Distributed Proofreading - Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from - images generously made available by The Internet - Archive/American Libraries.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LUMBER LYRICS *** - - - - - -Our Best Greetings to You - - -Christmas! And the bells are clanging! Christmas! And the goose is -hanging high and joy’s abroad! Christmas is the happy season! Though -the weather may be freezin’, human hearts are thawed! Here we see -the ancient codger sporting like an artful dodger with the laughing -kids; here we see the haughty chappie smiling broadly and as happy -as the katydids. Every one has shed his sorrow, dropped his burden -till tomorrow, dropped the world and care; Christmas is no time for -sadness--all the world is full of gladness, each should have his share. - -Therefore, if you deal in lumber, let your business rest and slumber, -till the day is o’er; think no more of lath and plaster; frolic fast -and frolic faster till you split the floor. Cast aside all thoughts of -timber; show the folks your legs are limber, and your soul unspoiled; -show your heart has not been toughened, show your nature’s not been -roughened, by the years you’ve toiled. Let no thoughts of sash and -siding your attention be dividing on this day of grace; help to fill -with glee your shanty, till grandmother, sister, auntie, bless your -cheer-up face. - -Christmas! When the reindeer travel, and Old Santa scratches gravel, -making good his dates! Men who don’t get good and mellow when is due -that brave old fellow, surely are cheap skates. When the Christmas -music’s rollin’, and the children’s socks are swollen, we should all -be young; young as when we watched and waited for those reindeer, -rapid-gaited, by the night wind stung. We can be as young in spirit as -the kids, or pretty near it, if we only try, though our heads are gray -and dusty and our joints are worn and rusty, and no longer spry. Then -when Christmas time is ended and we to our tasks have wended, we shall -bear away something of the youth we captured when the whole world was -enraptured with its Christmas day. - - - - -THE CURTIS COMPANIES - - - CURTIS BROS. & CO. - CLINTON, IOWA - - CURTIS & YALE CO. - WAUSAU, WIS. - PITTSBURGH, PA. - - CURTIS SASH & DOOR CO. - SIOUX CITY, IOWA - - CURTIS, TOWLE & PAINE CO. - LINCOLN, NEBR. - TOPEKA, KAN. - - CURTIS-YALE-HOWARD CO. - MINNEAPOLIS, MINN. - - CURTIS, BOOTH & BENTLEY CO. - OKLAHOMA CITY, OKLA. - - CURTIS DOOR & SASH CO. - CHICAGO, ILL. - - CURTIS DETROIT CO. - DETROIT, MICH. - - CURTIS DAYTON CO. - DAYTON, OHIO - -[Illustration: - - In My Lumbering Way, - Yours Truly, - Walt Mason] - - - - - Lumber Lyrics - - _By_ - Walt Mason - - _As they have - appeared in_ - CURTIS SERVICE - - [Illustration] - - _Reprinted in booklet form by the Curtis Service Bureau, Clinton, - Iowa, for the Curtis Companies and their Good Friends in the retail - lumber trade._ - - - - - Copyright, 1919, by Curtis Service Bureau, - Clinton, Iowa. All rights reserved. - - Printed by - STEWART-SIMMONS PRESS - Waterloo, Iowa - - - - - Contents - - - Walt Mason--Everybody’s Poet 6 - - Lumber Lyrics 8 - - Trees 11 - - Spring is Coming 12 - - Knowledge is Power 12 - - A Longing 13 - - Good Signs 14 - - Advertising 15 - - Going After Them 16 - - Suggestion 16 - - The Pioneers 17 - - October Days 18 - - Housing the Help 19 - - Classy Homes 20 - - Necessary Goods 21 - - The Mixer 21 - - Stairways 22 - - All the Time 23 - - Houses Scarce 24 - - Floors 25 - - Doors 25 - - Building a House 26 - - The Gladsome Spiel 27 - - Personality 28 - - Planting the Tree 29 - - The Shoppers 29 - - The New Year 30 - - - - -Walt Mason - - --Everybody’s Poet - - -Walt Mason is a poet and the world knows it. He is read by more people -than any other living writer. His prose rhymes are published in 200 -daily newspapers with an aggregate circulation of about 12 millions. -Walt says his only claim on the nation’s gratitude is that he does not -go about the country reading from his “works.” Indeed, he doesn’t have -to, for his writings are read with avidity by hosts of people. - -Walt Mason lives in Emporia, Kansas, most of the time, but spends -his summers in Estes Park, Colorado. He does nothing but write prose -rhymes. And at this job he is one of the hardest working men living. He -is probably the only poet who makes his living solely by the sweat of -his brow. - -Many people have wondered what Walt Mason gets for his contributions to -CURTIS SERVICE. This is rather a personal question but it is sufficient -to say that he gets enough money from work of this kind so that his -monthly income has totalled as high as $875.00. At any rate, this was -the figure he gave out in an interview in a Kansas City paper in 1914, -and like everything else, prose rhymes weren’t as high then as they are -now. - -As Mr. Mason himself explains, he was never a lumber dealer, though he -has tried to sell everything from hardware to hogs. - -How, then, can he write lumber lyrics that hit such a responsive chord -in every lumber dealer’s mind? The Lord knows. He was born that way. -His prose rhymes “get under your hide” and under every other lumber -dealer’s hide, because Walt Mason has an interest in you and your -fellow human beings. - -Walt Mason was born in Columbus, Ontario, May 4th, 1862. He was the -fifth of six sons of poor parents. When Walt was four years old his -father was accidentally killed. After his mother died, when he was -fifteen, he went to Port Hope, Ontario, and worked in a hardware store -for $2.50 a week, boarding himself. He soon forsook the hardware -business, in 1880, and crossed Lake Ontario into New York State, where -he hoed beans until he decided that there wasn’t any sense in hoeing -beans. - -“Arm in arm with the star of empire,” he took his course westward, -stopping in Ohio and in Illinois, and then in St. Louis. There he -wrote “some stuff” for a humorous weekly called _The Hornet_, which -obtained for him a position at $5.00 per week doing everything from -writing gems of thought to sweeping the floors. - -When _The Hornet_ went broke, Mason continued westward and worked for -three years as a hired man in Kansas. He became disgusted with the work -and managed to get a position with the _Leavenworth Times_. From there -he floated to the _Atchison Globe_, and was off and on connected with -newspapers in a dozen cities. At last, William Allen White, publisher -of the _Emporia Gazette_, offered him a position. - -_The Gazette_ always printed on its first page an item of local -interest with a border around it, called a “star head.” One day, -the city editor was shy the necessary item and asked Walt to write -something to fill the space. He wrote a little prose rhyme asking -people to go to church next day, which was Sunday. The rhyme attracted -attention, and on Monday he wrote another one, and a little later on, -Walt and the “star head” became a feature of the _Gazette_. This was -the origin of the prose poem and that was when Walt Mason came to -himself--at the age of forty-five. - -The rhymes of Walt Mason have had a marked influence on American -literature. Their unusual character have made the “highbrows” wonder -how to class them. His rhymes seem to be neither prose nor poetry, -though it must be remembered that the poems of the classics were -written in lineless form, and therefore, that Mason’s stuff can’t be -condemned simply because it isn’t printed like verse. - -Mason used to write for a great many house organs, but today CURTIS -SERVICE, for which he has been writing since the third issue of the -publication, in September, 1913, is one of the few on his list. - -Walt Mason believes that poets are born and not made. At any rate, he -says that they must have an ear for rhyme. The manner in which he sends -in his contributions to CURTIS SERVICE shows that he doesn’t chew up -many pencils paring down his rhymes and changing them about so that -their feet will toe the mark. - -Though he is a poet he has but one eccentricity: he is fat. He tried -out a large number of eccentricities, because he knew all poets had to -have some, but finally decided upon being fat as the one with fewest -drawbacks and the least inconvenient. - -_Who’s Who_ says he married Ella Foss of Wooster, Ohio, in 1893, and -that he is a Republican in politics and a Unitarian in religion. His -twelve million readers all acclaim him as a “regular guy.” - - - - -_Lumber Lyrics_ - - -The prose poems appearing in this little book have been written by -me for the Curtis Companies during the past few years, and, judging -from the many letters I have received from lumber dealers all over the -country, they took kindly to the little effusions; and often these -correspondents have asked me where and when I had experience in the -lumber business. - -I have had no experience in that line, except as a customer at the -lumber yards. I have bought a lot of boards and such things in my time, -and when I was buying them, or waiting for my change, I looked around. -Anybody who looks around, and who doesn’t wear blinders, observes many -things in the course of a lifetime. - -I have always been interested in the things around me and close to me. -I have an insatiable curiosity; I want to know all the facts about -anything I am interested in. When I go to a lumber yard to buy the -materials for a cupboard or a coffin, I ask a million questions. I want -to know where the boards grew, and who harvested them, and how they -were prepared for the consumer, and all about them; and, as a rule, -lumber men know their own trade, and can give any reasonable amount of -information. I have been asking questions all my days; and, having a -good memory, very few facts get away from me. - -And so I am prepared to write a rhyme about anything at an hour’s -notice. If I am to write about a steam engine, or a whale, or the north -pole, I usually do it without consulting any books; at various times -I have questioned people about steam engines, and whales, and north -poles, and the things they told me are on file in my memory. - -So with these poems. They have been suggested by things I have heard -lumber men say, perhaps day before yesterday, perhaps twenty years ago. - -There are many people who will tell you I am not a poet, and I am not -going to quarrel with them about it. The true poet, in the estimation -of the highbrows, is one who can so befuddle a subject with words that -an ordinary citizen can’t tell what he is driving at. I have never had -an ambition to be that kind of a poet. Really, I can be as cryptic as -any of them, and can write things that would give you a sick headache, -trying to understand them; but few people enjoy sick headaches. - -I have never been interested in Greek gods or Lethean rivers, or -things remote, either in time or distance. Most of my life I have been -associated with people who worked hard for a living, and I have done -all kinds of manual labor myself. It is with such people, and such -varieties of labor, that my verses deal. - -The lumber yard on the corner is of more enduring interest to me than -the Field of the Cloth of Gold, on which sundry kings played to the -gallery long ago. Every time the lumberman sells a wagonload of his -goods he is contributing to the general welfare, as well as to his own; -and this fact seems more important to me than any story treating of the -doings of Ulysses or any other fabled gent. So I write of lumber and -let the gods slide. - -[Illustration: _Walt Mason_] - - - - -TREES - - -Most every tree is made of wood; the best ones are remote from cities; -and in their cheerful neighborhood the birds keep singing ragtime -ditties. Beneath their limbs the children play and swing within their -leafy border, upon the long, bright summer day, when picnic parties -are in order. And now and then the poets come, to eulogize the forest -spirit, and you can hear their thought works hum, like auto wheels, -or pretty near it. And it may chance, upon a day, that farmers from -adjacent ranches, will bring a rope along this way, and hang an agent -from the branches. - -Now comes the woodman with his ax, and he selects some forest beauty; -then through its noble trunk he whacks--it is to him a thing of duty. -He has to feed his eighteen kids, he has to clothe his wife and auntie; -he has to buy them pies and lids, and put new paint upon his shanty. -And thus the forest giant falls, there’s none to shield it or deliver; -now other men in overalls, will float it down some rushing river. And -then through loud and busy mills the good old tree in fragments dashes, -and makes its bow as doors and sills, as scantling, joists and window -sashes. - -It’s strange to labor at a desk and think that it, all carved and -oaken, one time was standing, picturesque, amid a solitude unbroken; -once in the forest dark and dim, these pigeonholes and doodads rested; -this drawer was once a swaying limb, on which the robin sang and nested. - -I sit upon my swivel chair, and meditate upon its hist’ry; these rungs -and legs once waved in air, in all the strange primeval myst’ry. - -This stool on which I milk my cow, this club with which I swat the -heifers, though they are quite prosaic now, once rustled in the morning -zephyrs; once they had leaves, and in the dawn they sang the world-old -song of wonder; and in the dusk when day was gone, they saw the smiling -lovers under. - -This maple slat with which I soak my Willie when he gets too funny, and -on his daddy plays a joke, came from some woodland sweet and sunny. - -And thus in every lumber yard there’s food for pleasant meditation; a -plank inspires the modern bard, and tunes him up to beat creation. - - - - -SPRING COMING - - -Winter winds were round us snorting, for a weary while; now that -Spring’s this way cavorting, we should wear a smile. - -Tempests, storms and kindred friskers lashed us with a whip, froze our -noses and our whiskers, gave us all the grip. - -Nights were cold and days were freezing, cheerless was the sky; we were -coughing, whooping, sneezing, till we wished to die. - -Now the winter’s quit its prancing, it’s an also ran; and the gentle -Spring, advancing, should encourage man. - -When the north winds, blood congealers, ripped along the earth, ’tisn’t -strange if lumber dealers strangers were to mirth. - -For there was no rush or clamor in the building trade; and the rusty -saw and hammer on the shelf were laid. - -But, since balmy spring is coming, and old winter’s canned, sounds of -building will be humming over all the land. - -When the skies are blue and sunny, and the birdlets sing, people will -be spending money, as they do each spring. - -They’ll be building gorgeous houses, all along the pike, shelter for -their steeds and cowses, fences and the like. - -So let glee and mellow laughter fill your lumber store, as you hand out -joist and rafter, scantling, sash and door. - - - - -KNOWLEDGE IS POWER - - -When I go into someone’s store, to buy a nickel’s worth or more, some -questions I may spring; for I have an inquiring mind; all kinds of -facts I like to find, and place them on a string. I ask the grocer if -his tea was grown beside the Zuyder Zee, or down along the Po; and I’m -disgusted when he sighs, and claws his whiskers and replies, “I really -do not know.” - -I hold that every business man should follow up the good old plan and -know his stock in trade; the wise old grocer always knew just where his -shredded codfish grew, and where his prunes were made. The wise old -clothier knows that wool is never gathered from a bull, and tells his -patrons so; that merchant wearies by his acts, who answers, when you -ask for facts, “I’m sure I do not know.” - -We have a lumber man named Chee; I asked him, “On what sort of tree do -lath and shingles grow?” He said, “We have the shingles there, and -where they grew I do not care, and neither do I know.” This answer -filled me with amaze; he’d handled shingles all his days, and knew not -whence they came; he’d played his hand for forty years, since he was -wet behind the ears, and didn’t know the game. - -We have a lumber man named Dumm; I asked him, “Whence do shingles -come--oh, whither, why and whence?” He said, “I’m always glad to tell -the history of things I sell, regardless of expense. The shingle -trees,” I hear him say, “are only found at Hudson’s Bay, and they have -stately shapes; the shingles, which are long and slim, profusely grow -on every limb, in bunches, much like grapes. The natives harvest them -in March when they are firm and stiff with starch, and dry them in -the sun; then they remove the outer husk--which has a gentle smell of -musk--and thrash them, every one. Then they’re sandpapered, piece by -piece, and boiled six weeks in walrus grease, and smoked, like any ham; -and if there’s any more you’d know, about the way the shingles grow, -just ask me--here I am.” - -I’ve admiration and respect for one whose knowledge is correct, so I -am strong for Dumm; no matter what you ask that guy, he always has a -prompt reply--and he makes business hum! Men should be ready with a -spiel about the goods in which they deal, excuses won’t suffice; our -estimate is always low of men who never seem to know a thing except the -price. - - - - -A LONGING - - -I’d like to deal in lumber, and sell, for honest mon, good shingles -without number, and scantling by the ton; I’d like to hand out timber -to patrons, all day long; the moulding, thin and limber, the pillar -firm and strong; for when a man is selling such things, which hit the -spot, to build the stately dwelling, the store and humble cot, he feels -that he is helping to push the world along, and so we hear him yelping -a sweet and joyous song. - -I’d like to deal in lumber, for then I’d have a hand in rousing from -its slumber, the tired and stagnant land; whene’er I sold a package, -and put away the dimes, I’d say, “I’m building trackage, toward the -better times!” Pride’s blush would then be mantling my bulging brow -upon; and when I sold a scantling I’d help the old world on. - -I’d help to build the silo, which fills a pressing need, in which the -rural Milo heaps up his juicy feed; I’d help to build the cottage in -which the Newlyweds consume their home-made pottage, with sunshine -in their heads; I’d help to build the palace where Crœsus counts his -chink, and hits the golden chalice when he would have a drink. I’d help -to build the cities, where busy people dwell; it is a thousand pities I -have no boards to sell! - -I want to have a hand in all good things that’s going on; I’d hate to -be astandin’ two idle feet upon! I’d hate to deal in moonshine, or take -the shining plunk for goods which have the prune shine of gold bricks -or of junk. You’ll find some merchants funny throughout this blooming -earth; I’d not enjoy my money, unless I gave its worth; unless the -goods I deal in had useful end and aim, though coin came in a-peltin’, -I’d not enjoy the game. - -I’d like to deal in lumber, in lime and lath, by jings, thus helping -to encumber the world with handsome things; I’d like to have a finger -in every worthy pie, I’d like my name to linger behind me when I die. -The lumber dealers figure in every useful scheme, in everything that’s -bigger than is an empty dream. - - - - -GOOD SIGNS - - -When farmers bring their teams to town, and then drive home again, -their heavy wagons loaded down with boards and joists, why, then, it -is a sign that things are well, the goose is hanging high; and you may -safely dance and yell, for better times are nigh. - -All farmers who are safe and sane like handsome cribs and barns, and -for old shacks that let in rain they do not give three darns; but -when the hogs are dying off, of cholera or mumps, the farmer, with -affliction filled, looks on the old shacks near, and says, “I can’t -afford to build until some other year.” - -But when the hogs are feeling gay, and everything serene, and all the -oats and corn and hay present a healthy green, he hitches up old Kate -and Dick and journeys off to town, and then comes homeward pretty -quick, with lumber loaded down. And when I see the wagons drill along -the country road, each one a-creaking, loud and shrill, beneath its -lumber load, I know the country’s on the boom, and things will hum once -more; and any man who talks of gloom is just a misfit bore. - -Some people read the Wall Street news to see which way we head, and -some keep tab on Henry Clews, to see if we are dead; some follow up -what Congress does, and think therein they’ll find the signs that -business will buzz, or maybe fall behind. And some are making frequent -notes upon the tariff law, to see if it will get our goats, and -dislocate our jaw. - -But when I want to know the truth, about our future fate, I pass up all -such things, forsooth, and sit on my front gate, and watch the farmers -going by, upon their way from town, and if with lumber piled up high, -their carts are loaded down, I know prosperity’s on top, good times are -here, you bet; and I go forth and whip a cop and chase a suffragette. -Oh, when the farmers spend their hoards for lumber, we enthuse; the -granger’s wagonload of boards tells more than Henry Clews. - - - - -ADVERTISING - - -Tell me not in mournful numbers, with the air of critics wise, that the -retail lumber dealer’s not the one to advertise. - -“Let the shoe and grindstone dealers fill the papers with their ads, -let the pharmacists be spielers for their pills and liver pads; let -the dry goods merchant merry sing in print his cheerful tunes, let the -boatman boom his wherry, let the grocer boost his prunes. But when men -are buying shingles they will seek you in your lair, and will need no -prose or jingles to induce their going there.” - -Thus I heard the mossback speaking as he sadly wagged his ears, and his -jaws and lungs were squeaking with the rust of many years. But I knew -his talk was twaddle that would fool no modern guys; for it’s true that -all men waddle to the stores that advertise. - -Why should men who deal in lumber make no bid for larger trade? Why -should they sit ’round and slumber, slumber sweetly in the shade? If an -ad will bring new patrons to the gas works or the bank, if it sells new -gowns to matrons, why won’t it sell a plank? If an ad will bring new -buyers to the corner ginseng store, to the man who deals in plyers, why -won’t it sell a door? - -In our town there is a dealer, selling lumber all the year, and he is -the boss appealer to the public’s grateful ear. Every day his little -sermon in the paper shows its face; when on building folks determine, -they go chasing to his place. - -Keep your name before the public, keep your business house in view, -and when men would build a steeple, they will surely think of you. -Advertising pays, you bet you! They who say “No” are absurd. Never let -your town forget you--make your name a household word. - - - - -GOING AFTER THEM - - -Our lumber man, McMellow, is quite a hustling fellow, he’s ever -after trade. He says, “I’ve faith in jumping around for biz, and -humping--I’ve always found it paid. I think,” remarks McMellow, “that -there’s a streak of yellow in any gloomy lad, who spends his time -complaining, against the breeching straining, and says that trade is -bad. - -“My trade is what I make it; and I could blamed soon break it, if I -had doleful dumps, but when I find things dragging, I set my brains -a-wagging and do some fancy humps. - -“Today I heard John Abel intends to build a stable, about eight miles -from town; as there was nothing doing, and no excitement brewing, to -hold this village down, I thought I’d go and meet him, and to some -language treat him, and sell a little bill; and right there I enrolled -him a customer and sold him the roof-tree and the sill. - -“Keep busy is my motto; I have a small tin auto that scoots along with -vim; and when I hear some granger intends to build a manger, I burn the -road to him. The people see me scooting, they see me skally-hooting, -mile after breezy mile; they say, ‘He is so busy, he fairly makes us -dizzy--we kind o’ like his style.’ - -“And when they want some woodwork--and want the best of good work, -which is the Curtis kind--or joists or lath or siding, to me they come -a’riding--that’s business, do ye mind?” - -You never see him slouching, you never see him grouching, or talking of -despair; he always keeps things humming, he’s always up a-coming, his -hind feet in the air. - - - - -SUGGESTION - - -Some merchants are so all-fired dumb, you wonder how they ever come -to sell the stuff they have in store, and keep the sheriff from the -door. Old Binkson is a lot that way; he seldom has a word to say. I ask -him for a pound of lime; he wraps it up, and all the time, he wears a -tragic air of doom, and sheds an atmosphere of gloom. He never chats, -he never spiels, nor jumps up high and cracks his heels. He isn’t -grouchy or unstrung; he never learned to wag his tongue. - -Oh, silence is a golden thing, when ’tisn’t worked too hard, by jing. -But none of us will stand up strong for men who gabble all day long, -and elocute a thousand miles in fifty-seven varied styles. The dealer -who is prone to talk until you hear him round a block, is worse than -t’other kind of bird, who’s never known to spring a word. - -But if you’ve scantling you would sell, you ought to boost it wisely -well, and if a gent should buy a plank, to build himself a dipping -tank, you might suggest ere home he speeds, that you have other things -he needs. - -I called on Lumber Dealer Gaff, to buy a shingle and a half. He put my -purchase in a sack, and wrapped a string around and back, and as he -toiled, in manner gay, he talked to pass the time away. - -“The farmers now, in busy troops, are building stately chicken coops; -the winter soon will hit the road, and hens must have a warm abode, or -they won’t lay their luscious eggs, but stand around on frozen legs.” - -And that recalled the fact to me that I had hens, some ninety-three, -and ere I left that lumber store, I bought a wagon load or more, of -stuff to build a chicken shed; it’s standing now, all painted red. - -And that’s the way big sales are made, and that is how men build up -trade. Talk corn cribs at the proper time, or prove a silo is sublime, -but in an incidental strain, and not as though you gladly sprain your -conscience--which I hope is hale--in eagerness to get the kale. - -Suggestion is a noble art; the wise man gets it down by heart. - - - - -THE PIONEERS - - -Our fathers, in the bygone years, were bold and hardy pioneers. They -cleared the country of their foes, and made it blossom as the rose. -On prairies vast, by lonely lakes, they scrapped with Injuns and -with snakes, and whipped the large, fat grizzly bear, and chased the -groundhog to its lair. - -When first they cleared their patch of ground, the pioneers felt they -were bound to build thereon some sort of shacks, so they got busy with -the ax. How dire and gloomy was their plight! There was no lumber yard -in sight; they could not take a bunch of cash, and buy their windows, -doors and sash; they could not seek the haunts of trade, and buy a -house already made. The modern man, who plans to build a house, with -children to be filled, can to the lumber palace go, and spend a little -roll of dough, and get his boards, all planed and grooved, so slick -they couldn’t be improved. And in a very little while he builds a house -that’s quite in style. - -But it was different, my dears, with those old hardy pioneers; they -humped themselves like busy bees, and with their axes chopped down -trees, and of the branches made them bare, and chopped and chopped, and -made them square. And as they toiled around the boles, the Injuns shot -them full of holes. How would you like to build a shack, and have an -arrow in your back? - -But still they toiled on tireless shanks, and fashioned doors of -three-inch planks, and made their windows, high and broad, all out -of plumb and wapperjawed. Oh, did they sing, or did they swear, when -interrupted by a bear, which sized them up as juicy food, and chased -them through the lonely wood? Oh, did they laugh, or did they wail, -when wildcats got upon their trail? For once an hour their labors -ceased; they had to scrap with man or beast. It’s hard to work ’neath -such a strain; it frets the heart and jars the brain. - -Just ponder o’er those early shacks, all built with rusty saw and ax; -they once were viewed with lofty pride, in them our fathers lived and -died. How would you like it if you had to build log cabins, like your -dad? You’d surely think it pretty hard--you’d yearn for some good -lumber yard. - - - - -OCTOBER DAYS - - -It is a nipping, eager air; the signs of Fall are everywhere. The coal -man smiles, the ice man grieves; the trees have shed their summer -leaves; the cockleburs and other flowers that brighten all the summer -hours, are lying dead; the birds have flown to lands where blizzards -are unknown. - -The farmer sits around indoors, when he has done his evening chores, -and finished all the daily grind, and talks of plans he has in mind. - -“Amanda Jane,” he tells his wife, the faithful partner of his life, -“the time has come when we can build; the strongbox is with rubles -filled. It hasn’t been the best of years, but I have sold a bunch of -steers, and, too, a galaxy of swine, and quite a wad of dough is mine. -We’ll build the house we long have planned, with modern things on every -hand, with weather strips and folding doors, and walnut stairs and -rosewood floors.” - -“Now, Hiram, you are safe and sane,” remarks the glad Amanda Jane. -“For twenty weary years, alack, we’ve lived in this old dingy shack; -we’ve built fine shelter for the cows, and sheds palatial for the sows, -and gorgeous stables for the mules, and lived in this old shack, like -fools. Now let us have a dwelling fine, and not a dugout twelve by -nine. And, Hiram, bear this thought in mind: When buying, do not go -it blind. I’ve talked with women who have homes which are for beauty -simply pomes, and they have told me many a time, that cheap john -woodwork is a crime. With it your house will be a frost, regardless of -the roll it cost.” - -“Don’t worry, wife,” old Hiram sighs; “methinks you’ll find your -husband wise; I’ve had that matter long in mind, and I shall buy the -Curtis kind.” - - - - -HOUSING THE HELP - - -I tried to sell a load of slabs to Charles Augustus Clarence Dabbs. He -owns a farm some nine miles long, and twice as wide--unless I’m wrong; -I am not sure about its size, but it is big, or some one lies. - -“I cannot blow myself for slabs,” said Charles Augustus Clarence Dabbs; -“with forty kinds of grief I’m filled, I’m not in shape this year to -build. When one is loaded to the ears with cares and woes, and doubts -and fears, he’s in no mood to talk of planks, or building stunts, you -bet your shanks. - -“The government,” said Mr. Dabbs, “is on the farmers keeping tabs; it -looks to us to raise the wheat, that half the blooming world shall eat. -It looks to us for corn and hay, and succotash and beans and whey. -We farmers want to raise the stuff; we surely have desire enough; we -have the land, we have the mules, we have the seed, we have the tools, -but where in thunder shall we get the laborers, to toil and sweat? We -cannot keep men on the farm; the life appears to have no charm. I need -a half a dozen hands to cultivate my fertile lands; I’d give them work -the whole year round, if men of muscle could be found.” - -“It is a problem old and hoar,” I said, and sat down on the floor. “It -is a problem that will grow more frightful as the sad years go, unless -you farmers realize that laborers are human guys. They want to live a -normal life, each with his fireside and his wife, and not be packed in -garrets bare up forty miles of winding stair. - -“If I were farming, Mr. Dabbs, instead of selling rosewood slabs, I’d -build some nifty little shacks, to house my toiling Jills and Jacks. -I’d say to men I hired, ‘You see, you do not have to live with me; -you have your house in which to dwell, a garden and a cow and well, a -rooster and a Dorking hen, which things appeal to honest men.’ - -“When you take up that sort of thing, your men will stay with you, by -jing.” - -Then Mr. Dabbs sat down by me. “There may be truth in that,” said he. -“I’m blamed if I don’t try it out, so let us see some plans, old scout.” - -We figured there for half a day, and when the patron drove away, he -hauled a load of joists and jambs, and seemed as chipper as nine clams. - - - - -CLASSY HOMES - - -The barber who is bald as blazes can’t sell me tonic for my hair, and -all his fine and ringing phrases strike me as merely heated air. The -tailor who is looking shabby can’t sell me clothes, howe’er he tries; -his eloquence seems vain and flabby, his course of conduct is not wise. - -The jeweler, whose watch is gaining, or losing, seven hours a day, -might spend a week or two explaining his wondrous skill--I’d go my way. - -If I were selling battle-axes, I’d see my own the best in town, as -slick and clean and smooth as wax is, a thing of fair and wide renown. - -One lumber man is always telling what kind of homes the folks should -build, and he lives in a rocky dwelling, with bargain counter fixtures -filled. And men who listen to his spieling remark, “Why don’t you -build, yourself? Your home is punk, from floor to ceiling, from kitchen -sink to pantry shelf.” - -The lumber man, more than all others, should show his faith in what he -sells, should demonstrate, to men and brothers, that his own home is -wearing bells. Then he can say to John and Alice, who think of putting -up a home, “Come out and see my little palace, examine it, from porch -to dome. Of goodly points it has a number, I think it good and up to -date; it shows what one can do with lumber, if he has got his head on -straight.” - -The workman who is always fussing can’t ply for me the monkey wrench; -the preacher who is always cussing can’t lead me to the mourner’s bench. - -The lumberman whose home is rocky can’t tell me what I ought to build; -though he be eloquent and talky, the force of all he says is killed. - - - - -NECESSARY GOODS - - -So many folks are selling things we really do not need! They sell us -pups and spiral springs, and patent chicken feed. A dozen times a -day or more I have to drop my pen; some chap is ringing at the door, -to sell a setting hen. A gent of rather seedy looks came to my shack -today, to sell me fifty-seven books--the works of Bertha Clay. And one -is selling china eyes, one deals in pewter spoons, and one would sell -me whisker dyes, another, musty prunes. - -I never waddle through the woods but some one comes along, and tries -to sell me useless goods, with tiresome dance and song. I’m weary of -the man who yells of jimcracks gone to seed; how stately is the man who -sells the goods men really need! I watch the lumberman go past, upon -his useful chores, to sell a mariner a mast, or fit a house with doors; -his boards and beams, of seasoned wood, for helpful arts are made; he -does our social fabric good when he builds up his trade. - -There’s nothing in the lumber store superfluous or vain; you do not -seek that dealer’s door fool doodads to obtain. And every time he sells -a bill, improvements there will be; the coin he puts into his till -helps the community. And when his goods are in demand, the better times -have come, your town will flourish and expand, the wheels of commerce -hum. - -I’m tired of buying pumpkin trees, and postholes by the crate, and -ostrich eggs, and swarms of bees, and tinhorn real estate. Hereafter I -shall blow my roll for articles worth while, a peck of lime, a load of -coal, a good large lumber pile. - - - - -THE MIXER - - -I know a man who deals in planks, and he has money in nine banks. He -has a busy lumber booth, where he makes business hum, in sooth. And -when the day of toil is o’er, he might go home and rest and snore, and -put his feet upon a chair, and talk about his load of care. But when -he’s had his evening meal, and read the valued _Daily Squeal_, he says, -“Methinks I’ll go down town, and see what’s up, or maybe down.” - -He takes a hand in everything that makes our home town move and swing. -If boosters hold a jamboree, this lumber dealer there you’ll see, and -he will on his hind legs stand, and help to boost, to beat the band. - -If there’s a wedding at the kirk, this lumber man will leave his work, -and reach the scene with active stride, and he’s the first to kiss the -bride. - -When we arrange a big parade, you see this lumber man arrayed in all -his panoply and pomp, and down the street he’ll proudly romp. - -If we decide to lynch a gent, some agent for a patent tent, or one -who’s sold us mining shares, or double action easy chairs, that lumber -man is right on deck, and puts the rope around his neck. - -I hear folks say, “That lumber chap, has put this village on the map. -If we had twenty men like him, the town would sure be in the swim. He -is the first man, every time, to help to make things hump and climb.” - -The business man who hopes to win must boost the town he’s living in. -You cannot do the hermit stunt, and hope to travel at the front. Get -next to all that’s going on, mix in with Richard, James and John, and -help along the town’s affairs, and leave the grouches in their lairs. - - - - -STAIRWAYS - - -Some years ago I built a house in which I settled, with my spouse. It -was a gorgeous shack, indeed; the kind of house of which you read. For -such a house I’d always yearned, and so I said, “Expense be derned! I -want the best that coin will buy; my dwelling place must stack up high. -I want a dwelling that will stand till I’m so old I should be canned.” - -I said, “I want a splendid stair, a stairway that’s beyond compare; the -kind you read about in books, with banisters and window nooks.” - -And so we built a noble stair, and it was surely passing fair; and -guests who came to spend the night, when viewing it, expressed delight, -and said it surely took the cake; it was a bird, and no mistake. - -But when the stair was five years old its antics made my trilbys cold. -It warped and twisted like the deuce, till half the steps and rails -were loose, it creaked and crackled, as in pain, and warped and bent -and warped again. It took a circus acrobat to climb my stairway after -that. - -Then came a neighbor to my door, who’d built a hundred shacks or more. -He viewed my stair and shed some weeps, and said, “That is a frost, -for keeps. You’d better take it out from there and get yourself a -Curtis stair. The wood the Curtis people use will ne’er its right -proportions lose; it will not wind around, I wist, like some dadblamed -contortionist. For it is seasoned to a hair; there is no reckless -guesswork there. - -“The Curtis trademark on a stair just means that grief won’t travel -there. You have a stairway that will last until your earthly woes are -past, and you are playing golden lyres, or heaping brimstone on the -fires. - -“Your warped old stairway yet will wreck some fellow’s back or break -his neck, so pull it down, I humbly beg, before there is a broken leg. -Then get the Curtis seasoned wood, and have a stairway staunch and -good, and you will bless me every day for showing you the proper way.” - -And now a noble Curtis stair adds grace and comfort to my lair; I never -find it on the blink, it doesn’t warp or split or shrink. - - - - -ALL THE TIME - - -This is the burden of my rhyme: Be nice and pleasant all the time. -Some men are only sweet and nice, when they desire to get the price. -The lumber men at Bungtown hear that I intend, some time this year, to -build a handsome Gothic shed, all up to date and painted red. - -At ordinary times these gents don’t smile at me worth twenty cents. -They pass me by and do not say, “How is your liver?” or “Good day!” But -since they’ve heard that I expect to build a shed that’s all correct, -a modern shed with wooden doors and handsome knotholes in the floors, -they’re so polite and smooth and sweet, they give me fantods in my feet. - -They do not win me with their grins; such work is coarse, and seldom -wins. If men would sell their laths and lime, they should be pleasant -all the time, and not, like some cheap candidate, just when they think -’twill pay the freight. - -I’ll buy the lumber for my shed, when I have got the coin ahead, from -dealers who are pleasant lads e’en when they are not after scads. There -are such dealers in our town, and no sane man would turn them down. I -meet them nearly every day, and talk with them of hogs and hay, and -bats and cats and curleycues, and ships and synagogues and shoes. - -They do not seem to care a red who sells the lumber for my shed; -they’re always pleasant and polite, they hand me smiles and treat me -right. - -So when I wish to buy a plank, I take some pennies from the bank, and -cheerfully I blow the price with men who can’t help being nice. - -And when the Bungtown fellows know what I have done, they’ll droop -in woe; they’ll look on me with moody scorn, and wish I never had -been born. Their souls can’t reach the heights sublime; they can’t be -pleasant all the time. - - - - -HOUSES SCARCE - - -Oft I hear discordant slogans, hear the loud and sad lament; men are -wearing out their brogans hunting houses they can rent. Every village, -town and city sees the same discouraged crew; and it seems to me a pity -that good houses are so few. - -In my native burg, Empory, I see women chasing round, and they tell the -same old story--houses simply can’t be found. And the same sad word is -spoken everywhere I chance to roam; from Topeka to Hoboken folks are -hunting for a home. - -When they’re sick and tired of chasing, when their souls with woe are -filled, maybe they will do some bracing; maybe they’ll decide to build. -Rents are higher now than ever, and the prices won’t slump back, and -that man is really clever who will build himself a shack. - -“But the cost!” I hear men yawping; and they put up thoughtless roars, -for they never have been shopping at the modern lumber stores. Building -goods today are cheaper than all other goods you buy; all commodities -are steeper--ask the lumber dealer nigh. - -Monied men are often questing for gold bricks, and dern the price; -always ready for investing in blue sky and pickled ice. If they’d build -a lot of houses they might dwell in Easy street, where the catawampus -browses, and the dingbat’s song is sweet. Every time they’d build a -dwelling crowds would come, and still increase, crying, clamoring and -yelling, begging for a five-year lease. - -There’s no better proposition than this thing of building homes, and -the fact should find position in the plutocratic domes. - -And the man with modest bundle should be renting nevermore; he should -take his wad and trundle to the lumber dealer’s store. - -There should be a boom in building such as we have never seen; palaces -with ornate gilding, modest homes, all painted green. - - - - -FLOORS - - -The Eskimo has floors of ice, and probably he thinks them nice, and -strictly up to date; but if there ever came a thaw they’d be the worst -you ever saw, and that’s as sure as fate. The Arab has his floor of -sand; I have no doubt he thinks it grand, a floor beyond compare; but -sand is full of bugs and ants, and they climb up a fellow’s pants, when -he sits in a chair. - -The Mexican has floors of dirt, and floors of that sort will not hurt, -so long as weather’s dry; but when there comes a season wet such floors -are not the one best bet, which no one can deny. - -In olden times men built their homes with battlements and towers and -domes, and ornaments of gold; but all the floors were made of stone, -and they made people sigh and groan, they were so hard and cold. - -And then with rushes they were strewn, to make them warmer to the -shoon, and also to the feet; and those stale rushes would decay; their -scent would drive the folks away, in agonized retreat. - -It took uncounted years of toil and planning by the midnight oil to -dope out modern floors; the floors on which we dance and walk, and sing -and cuss and wildly talk of hoarders and such bores. - -The floors on which we spend our lives, and train our kids, and beat -our wives, are surely handsome things; be they of color light or dark, -we proudly view them and remark, “They’re good enough for kings.” - -Your mansion might have jasper walls, the finest painting in its halls -that artists can produce, and onyx stairs and marble doors, but if it -had no modern floors ’twould be a poor excuse. - -Good hardwood floors make life a pome; they beautify your happy home as -nothing else can do; your lumber dealer has the best; the years have -given it the test that means so much to you. - - - - -DOORS - - -While doing here our earthly chores, we’re going in and out of doors; -doors have a part in all we do, until our little trip is through; and -then who knows what sort of door we’ll enter on the other shore? - -If I am welcome at your shack you gladly swing the door clear back, and -say, “Come in, you blamed old skate, and stay six months, or maybe -eight!” But if I sell “The Works of Poe,” you ope the door an inch or -so, and cry, “Go chase yourself, gadzooks! We do not want your tinhorn -books!” - -Oh, doors are good for many things; they’re used by peasants and by -kings; the humblest hut has three or two, and palaces have quite a few. -And I recall a bitter day, when I climbed on a dappled gray, a horse -that wasn’t brought up right; it liked to kick and buck and bite; it -threw me off, in wanton style, then sat on me for quite a while. I was -so crippled, bruised and sore, men took me home upon a door. It shows -how useful doors can be; I always carry two or three. - -We’re always viewing doors, you know; they face us everywhere we go; -on doors we knock, at doors we wait, and if they’re handsome, smooth -and straight, they strike us as a work of art, they’re soothing to the -mind and heart. But if they’re warped and out of plumb, and cracked and -cheap and on the bum, we think, “The owner doesn’t heed how much his -dwelling runs to seed.” - -I size up people by their doors; not by the rugs upon their floors. - -There’s nothing looks so dad-blamed punk as some cheap door that’s -warped and shrunk. - -The Curtis hardwood doors are great; they’re always true and fine and -straight; their beauty gladdens every eye, and years don’t make that -beauty fly. They’re built by experts, and each door is planned to sell -a hundred more; each one’s an ad for all the rest, and every Curtis -door’s the best. - -Oh, I could write a whole lot more, but some one’s rapping at the door. - - - - -BUILDING A HOUSE - - -I built a house, erect and square, its basement touched the ground; and -all my neighbors gathered there, and said it should be round. “Square -houses long are out of date,” remarked old Jabez Black, “and no one but -a fossil skate would build him such a shack.” - -“I see your shingles are of wood,” said Johnsing, with a grin; “you -ought to know they are no good--they should be made of tin. Your house -is sure the bummest job a man could find in town; I’ve half a mind to -raise a mob, and come and tear it down. The porch roof has too steep a -drop, it makes a wretched show; the basement should be built on top, -the garret down below.” - -“You surely must have lost your head,” exclaimed old Captain Bean, “to -go and paint your mansion red, with trimmings of pea green. A person’s -eyes it fairly slams; the man who sees that paint will think he has the -James H. Jams, and he’ll be apt to faint. If you had made it pink and -blue, it would have hit the spot; but you have chosen such a hue as -makes the neighbors hot.” - -“I see your chimney is of brick,” said Colonel Sassafras; “and such a -bungle makes me sick--it should be built of glass. Glass chimneys now -are all the rage in Paris and in Rome, but you’re away behind the age, -when you put up a home.” - -“Upon a pivot,” said Judge Ace, “it should be built, just so, then you -could turn it round to face most all the winds that blow.” - -They all agreed that such a shack was never built before; it all -was wrong and out of whack, from roof to cellar door; except the -woodwork--that was grand, and beautiful and slick; they saw it had the -CURTIS brand, and so they could not kick. - - - - -THE GLADSOME SPIEL - - -All Spring it rained to beat the band, and o’er the saturated land, the -water stood in pools; old Pluvius, who runs the rain, it seemed, had -water on the brain, and busted all the rules. - -The farmers had to sail in boats when they went forth to feed their -shotes, their ostriches and cows, and when they went to sow their beans -they had to go in submarines, they couldn’t use their plows. - -And in the cities things were worse, and gloomy as a country hearse was -nearly every face; men stood around in dripping crowds, and viewed the -stretch of leaking clouds, and called them a disgrace. - -Contractors, when they called on Hoar, who runs the corner lumber -store, would make an awful fuss; “this is the blinkest, blankest -Spring! We cannot do a doggone thing! It’s getting wuss and wuss! It -keeps on raining all day long, the mud goes through to old Hong Kong, -it will not dry till fall; unless the gods give us a show, out to the -poorfarm we must go, our families and all!” - -But Hoar, the cheerful lumberman, is one who always ties a can to every -gloomy thing; his optimism then he voiced, as he wrapped up a big oak -joist, and tied it with a string. - -“The rain,” he said, “is coming yet, and I admit it’s pretty wet, in -fact it’s almost damp; but you should hail it with delight, and shoo -your troubles out of sight, and bid your griefs decamp. The ground is -soaked clear through, you say, down to the center of Cathay, and that -is joyous news; it means good crops for sundry years, so it’s a sin to -sprinkle tears, or languish in the blues. The moisture stored in yonder -soil will make our divers kettles boil, and bring us coin galore; -you’ll have more palaces to build because the air with rain is filled, -so please cut out the roar.” - -The man who sees the good in things, who chirps around and smiles and -sings, and chortles by the year, not only boosts his private trade, but -sees the ghosts of others laid--the ghosts of doubt and fear. - - - - -PERSONALITY - - -One dealer cannot understand why people needing planks or sand go past -his door, to spend their mon with t’other dealers, Dadd & Son. - -His stock is just as good as Dadd’s; he gives as much for patron’s -scads; why, then, do people pass his door, and pass him up forevermore? -Perhaps he lacks the sort of charm that will all prejudice disarm, that -makes his gladsome patrons shout, “I like to deal with that old scout.” - -A man may study all the tricks of commerce, trade or politics, may -know his biz from A to Zed, and yet still fail to get ahead, if he -has not that winning way that makes a new hit every day. One doctor’s -good at making friends; from door to door he blithely wends, and fills -his patients up with pills, and cheerfully they pay his bills. This -doctor’s soon in Easy street; his motor choos along the street, he -wears large diamonds on his tie, his life is one long piece of pie. - -Another sawbones knows full well all lore the physics books can tell. -He studied medicine in Rome, and studied it some more at home. He knows -all corners of his game, all ailments of the human frame, and he could -cure the hopeless guy that other docs give up to die. But people say, -“We’d rather croak than have that sour-faced doctor bloke!” - -And thus it is in every line; the man who deals in coal or pine, the -man who sells a churn or farm, should have that asset men call “charm.” -With that on tap the world goes slick, and people say you are a brick; -they buy your hats, they buy your gourds, they buy your beeswax, beans -or boards. And if you lack it they will trot to one whose manner hits -the spot. - - - - -PLANTING A TREE - - -On Arbor Day I took a spade, and then a large round hole I made, and -planted there a tree; and in that tree, in coming days, the birds will -sing their roundelays; and twitter in their glee. - -I am an ancient also-ran; I am an old and feeble man, I soon must hit -the flume; but it’s a pleasant thing to know that there will be that -tree to show, when I am in the tomb. Beneath its boughs the kids will -play, and veterans all bent and gray will in its shade recline; and -peradventure one will sigh, “I well recall the dippy guy, who planted -here this pine. The swath he cut was very small, while he was on this -mundane ball, but when life neared its end, this tree he planted with -his spade, and here we’re resting in its shade, and bless him as a -friend.” - -And as the long, slow years go by, perchance that stately tree will -die; there’s death for all, it seems, and men, to earn the needed -plunk, will separate its mighty trunk, and fashion boards and beams. - -And one who plans to build a shack, will to the lumber dealer track, -and purchase beam and board; and carpenters will straightway go, and -build as fine a bungalow as mister can afford. The walls and roof of my -good tree, will shelter human grief and glee, for, maybe, untold years; -will echo to both sob and song, the laughter of the bridal throng, the -plash of old wives’ tears. - -I like to speculate this way; but now my boy comes in to say, ere he -departs for school, “That tree you planted by the fence now looks like -twenty-seven cents--it’s dead as Cæsar’s mule.” - - - - -THE SHOPPERS - - -When people do their Christmas shopping, and blow in all their -hard-earned ore, to keep the Christmas spirit popping, they don’t call -at the lumber store. - -You do not see the Christmas spieler, with purse ajar and eyes a-gleam, -say to the cheerful lumber dealer, “Just wrap me up that ten-foot beam! -I have an aunt, Priscilla Hocking, to whom I’d send a present small; -that beam will surely fit her stocking like the paper on the wall.” - -You do not hear the shopper saying, “I want a gift for Uncle Hank, so -let me see you busy weighing about ten yards of basswood plank.” - -No shoppers tighten their surcingles in lumber yards, at Christmas -time, and buy their girls a lot of shingles, or sundry pecks of -unslacked lime. - -A man might think the lumber dealer was off the map, and in the shade, -without a tendril or a feeler upon the blooming Christmas trade. But -all the year they’re building houses, with stuff the lumber dealer -sells, in which the Christmas crowd carouses, and good old Santa whoops -and yells. Beneath yon roof there’s joyous laughter, that indicates -good will to men; and every two-by-four and rafter came from the lumber -dealer’s den. The walls on which you see the holly, were furnished by -the lumber man, who is, like Claus, serene and jolly, and does his -stunt the best he can. The door at which the guest is greeted with -kindness which should hit him hard, and everything that’s nailed or -cleated, comes from the modest lumber yard. - -You cannot have a Christmas frolic, with joy and laughter in the air, -and nuts and candies--causing colic--but that the lumber man is there. - - - - -THE NEW YEAR - - -The old year’s gone where dead years go, the New Year comes across the -snow, and chortles at the door; it seems to say, “Behold in me the -smoothest year you’ll ever see--none like me came before!” - -But years, my friends, are much the same; they stay a while and play -their game, and then they disappear; they’re modeled on the same old -plan; success depends on Mr. Man, and not on any year. The finest year -that ever grew will bring no rich rewards to you, if you’re a shiftless -chap; the poorest year that they can send will see you prosper without -end, if you have vim and snap. - -We shouldn’t wait for friendly gods to come and multiply our wads, or -fetch us wood to burn; the new year isn’t apt to bring to you or me a -doggone thing that we don’t go and earn. We shouldn’t dream when New -Year comes, or sit around and twirl our thumbs, and wish ourselves good -cheer; ’twere better far to count our breaks and figure up the bad -mistakes that cost us much last year. - -“The lumber man across the way is doing business every day, while I -sit here and mope; there is some reason, sure, for that; I’ll find it, -too, or eat my hat,” thus muses David Dope. And so he rustles ’round -to find why trade is falling far behind; that’s better far, old scout, -than quoting pretty New Year rhymes and harking to the clanging chimes -that ring the old year out. “You bet,” says David, and he grins, “this -year I’ll guard against the sins that put me in the hole; I’m bound -this year will treat me well, so watch your Uncle David sell his -lumber, lime and coal.” - -And thus the year is good or bad according to the sort of lad who has -it by the horns; if you are bound to win, you will; if not, the year -your hopes will kill, and spoil your choicest corns. - -[Illustration: Decorative image] - - - - -Transcriber’s Notes - -In a few cases, obvious errors in punctuation have been fixed. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LUMBER LYRICS *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Lumber Lyrics</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Walt Mason</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: March 17, 2022 [eBook #67649]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Charlene Taylor and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LUMBER LYRICS ***</div> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</span></p> - - - - -<h2>Our Best Greetings to You</h2> - - -<p>Christmas! And the bells are clanging! Christmas! And the goose is -hanging high and joy’s abroad! Christmas is the happy season! Though -the weather may be freezin’, human hearts are thawed! Here we see -the ancient codger sporting like an artful dodger with the laughing -kids; here we see the haughty chappie smiling broadly and as happy -as the katydids. Every one has shed his sorrow, dropped his burden -till tomorrow, dropped the world and care; Christmas is no time for -sadness—all the world is full of gladness, each should have his share.</p> - -<p>Therefore, if you deal in lumber, let your business rest and slumber, -till the day is o’er; think no more of lath and plaster; frolic fast -and frolic faster till you split the floor. Cast aside all thoughts of -timber; show the folks your legs are limber, and your soul unspoiled; -show your heart has not been toughened, show your nature’s not been -roughened, by the years you’ve toiled. Let no thoughts of sash and -siding your attention be dividing on this day of grace; help to fill -with glee your shanty, till grandmother, sister, auntie, bless your -cheer-up face.</p> - -<p>Christmas! When the reindeer travel, and Old Santa scratches gravel, -making good his dates! Men who don’t get good and mellow when is due -that brave old fellow, surely are cheap skates. When the Christmas -music’s rollin’, and the children’s socks are swollen, we should all -be young; young as when we watched and waited for those reindeer, -rapid-gaited, by the night wind stung. We can be as young in spirit as -the kids, or pretty near it, if we only try, though our heads are gray -and dusty and our joints are worn and rusty, and no longer spry. Then -when Christmas time is ended and we to our tasks have wended, we shall -bear away something of the youth we captured when the whole world was -enraptured with its Christmas day.</p> - - -<h3 class="nobreak" id="THE_CURTIS_COMPANIES">THE CURTIS COMPANIES</h3> - - -<p class="p0 mid"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">CURTIS BROS. & CO.</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">CLINTON, IOWA</span><br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">CURTIS & YALE CO.</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">WAUSAU, WIS.</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">PITTSBURGH, PA.</span><br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">CURTIS SASH & DOOR CO.</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">SIOUX CITY, IOWA</span><br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">CURTIS, TOWLE & PAINE CO.</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">LINCOLN, NEBR.</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">TOPEKA, KAN.</span><br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">CURTIS-YALE-HOWARD CO.</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">MINNEAPOLIS, MINN.</span><br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">CURTIS, BOOTH & BENTLEY CO.</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">OKLAHOMA CITY, OKLA.</span><br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">CURTIS DOOR & SASH CO.</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">CHICAGO, ILL.</span><br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">CURTIS DETROIT CO.</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">DETROIT, MICH.</span><br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">CURTIS DAYTON CO.</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">DAYTON, OHIO</span><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</span></p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p class="center p0 p2"><span class="figcenter" id="img000"> - <img src="images/000.jpg" class="w50" alt="In My Lumbering Way, Yours Truly, Walt Mason" /> -</span></p> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</span></p> - -</div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h1>Lumber Lyrics</h1> - -<p class="center p0"> <i>By</i><br /> -<span class="big">Walt Mason</span></p> - -<p class="center p0 p2"> <i>As they have - appeared in</i> - <span class="smcap">Curtis Service</span></p> - -<p class="center p0 p2"><span class="figcenter" id="img002"> - <img src="images/002.jpg" class="w10" alt="Publisher mark" /> -</span></p> - -<p class="center p0 p4 small"> <i>Reprinted in booklet form by the Curtis Service Bureau, Clinton, Iowa, for - the Curtis Companies and their Good Friends in the retail lumber trade.</i> -</p> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</span></p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - - - -<p class="center p0 small"> -Copyright, 1919, by Curtis Service Bureau,<br /> -Clinton, Iowa. All rights reserved.</p> -<p class="center p0 p4 small">Printed by<br /> -<span class="smcap">Stewart-Simmons Press</span><br /> -Waterloo, Iowa -</p></div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="Contents">Contents</h2> -</div> - -<table class="autotable"> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#Walt_Mason">Walt Mason—Everybody’s Poet</a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_6">6</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#Lumber_Lyrics">Lumber Lyrics</a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_8">8</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#TREES">Trees</a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_11">11</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#SPRING_COMING">Spring is Coming</a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_12">12</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#KNOWLEDGE_IS_POWER">Knowledge is Power</a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_12">12</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#A_LONGING">A Longing</a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_13">13</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#GOOD_SIGNS">Good Signs</a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_14">14</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#ADVERTISING">Advertising</a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_15">15</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#GOING_AFTER_THEM">Going After Them</a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_16">16</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#SUGGESTION">Suggestion</a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_16">16</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#THE_PIONEERS">The Pioneers</a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_17">17</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#OCTOBER_DAYS">October Days</a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_18">18</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#HOUSING_THE_HELP">Housing the Help</a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_19">19</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#CLASSY_HOMES">Classy Homes</a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_20">20</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#NECESSARY_GOODS">Necessary Goods</a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_21">21</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#THE_MIXER">The Mixer</a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_21">21</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#STAIRWAYS">Stairways</a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_22">22</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#ALL_THE_TIME">All the Time</a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_23">23</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#HOUSES_SCARCE">Houses Scarce</a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_24">24</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#FLOORS">Floors</a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_25">25</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#DOORS">Doors</a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_25">25</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#BUILDING_A_HOUSE">Building a House</a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_26">26</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#THE_GLADSOME_SPIEL">The Gladsome Spiel</a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_27">27</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#PERSONALITY">Personality</a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_28">28</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#PLANTING_A_TREE">Planting the Tree</a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_29">29</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#THE_SHOPPERS">The Shoppers</a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_29">29</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#THE_NEW_YEAR">The New Year</a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_30">30</a> -</td> -</tr> -</table> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="Walt_Mason">Walt Mason<br /> <span class="small">—Everybody’s Poet</span></h2> -</div> - - - -<p>Walt Mason is a poet and the world knows it. He is read by more people -than any other living writer. His prose rhymes are published in 200 -daily newspapers with an aggregate circulation of about 12 millions. -Walt says his only claim on the nation’s gratitude is that he does not -go about the country reading from his “works.” Indeed, he doesn’t have -to, for his writings are read with avidity by hosts of people.</p> - -<p>Walt Mason lives in Emporia, Kansas, most of the time, but spends -his summers in Estes Park, Colorado. He does nothing but write prose -rhymes. And at this job he is one of the hardest working men living. He -is probably the only poet who makes his living solely by the sweat of -his brow.</p> - -<p>Many people have wondered what Walt Mason gets for his contributions to -<span class="smcap">Curtis Service</span>. This is rather a personal question but it is -sufficient to say that he gets enough money from work of this kind so -that his monthly income has totalled as high as $875.00. At any rate, -this was the figure he gave out in an interview in a Kansas City paper -in 1914, and like everything else, prose rhymes weren’t as high then as -they are now.</p> - -<p>As Mr. Mason himself explains, he was never a lumber dealer, though he -has tried to sell everything from hardware to hogs.</p> - -<p>How, then, can he write lumber lyrics that hit such a responsive chord -in every lumber dealer’s mind? The Lord knows. He was born that way. -His prose rhymes “get under your hide” and under every other lumber -dealer’s hide, because Walt Mason has an interest in you and your -fellow human beings.</p> - -<p>Walt Mason was born in Columbus, Ontario, May 4th, 1862. He was the -fifth of six sons of poor parents. When Walt was four years old his -father was accidentally killed. After his mother died, when he was -fifteen, he went to Port Hope, Ontario, and worked in a hardware store -for $2.50 a week, boarding himself. He soon forsook the hardware -business, in 1880, and crossed Lake Ontario into New York State, where -he hoed beans until he decided that there wasn’t any sense in hoeing -beans.</p> - -<p>“Arm in arm with the star of empire,” he took his course westward, -stopping in Ohio and in Illinois, and then in St.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</span> Louis. There he -wrote “some stuff” for a humorous weekly called <i>The Hornet</i>, -which obtained for him a position at $5.00 per week doing everything -from writing gems of thought to sweeping the floors.</p> - -<p>When <i>The Hornet</i> went broke, Mason continued westward and worked -for three years as a hired man in Kansas. He became disgusted with the -work and managed to get a position with the <i>Leavenworth Times</i>. -From there he floated to the <i>Atchison Globe</i>, and was off and on -connected with newspapers in a dozen cities. At last, William Allen -White, publisher of the <i>Emporia Gazette</i>, offered him a position.</p> - -<p><i>The Gazette</i> always printed on its first page an item of local -interest with a border around it, called a “star head.” One day, -the city editor was shy the necessary item and asked Walt to write -something to fill the space. He wrote a little prose rhyme asking -people to go to church next day, which was Sunday. The rhyme attracted -attention, and on Monday he wrote another one, and a little later on, -Walt and the “star head” became a feature of the <i>Gazette</i>. This -was the origin of the prose poem and that was when Walt Mason came to -himself—at the age of forty-five.</p> - -<p>The rhymes of Walt Mason have had a marked influence on American -literature. Their unusual character have made the “highbrows” wonder -how to class them. His rhymes seem to be neither prose nor poetry, -though it must be remembered that the poems of the classics were -written in lineless form, and therefore, that Mason’s stuff can’t be -condemned simply because it isn’t printed like verse.</p> - -<p>Mason used to write for a great many house organs, but today <span class="smcap">Curtis -Service</span>, for which he has been writing since the third issue of -the publication, in September, 1913, is one of the few on his list.</p> - -<p>Walt Mason believes that poets are born and not made. At any rate, he -says that they must have an ear for rhyme. The manner in which he sends -in his contributions to <span class="smcap">Curtis Service</span> shows that he doesn’t -chew up many pencils paring down his rhymes and changing them about so -that their feet will toe the mark.</p> - -<p>Though he is a poet he has but one eccentricity: he is fat. He tried -out a large number of eccentricities, because he knew all poets had to -have some, but finally decided upon being fat as the one with fewest -drawbacks and the least inconvenient.</p> - -<p><i>Who’s Who</i> says he married Ella Foss of Wooster, Ohio, in 1893, -and that he is a Republican in politics and a Unitarian in religion. -His twelve million readers all acclaim him as a “regular guy.”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="Lumber_Lyrics"><i>Lumber Lyrics</i></h2> -</div> - - -<p>The prose poems appearing in this little book have been written by -me for the Curtis Companies during the past few years, and, judging -from the many letters I have received from lumber dealers all over the -country, they took kindly to the little effusions; and often these -correspondents have asked me where and when I had experience in the -lumber business.</p> - -<p>I have had no experience in that line, except as a customer at the -lumber yards. I have bought a lot of boards and such things in my time, -and when I was buying them, or waiting for my change, I looked around. -Anybody who looks around, and who doesn’t wear blinders, observes many -things in the course of a lifetime.</p> - -<p>I have always been interested in the things around me and close to me. -I have an insatiable curiosity; I want to know all the facts about -anything I am interested in. When I go to a lumber yard to buy the -materials for a cupboard or a coffin, I ask a million questions. I want -to know where the boards grew, and who harvested them, and how they -were prepared for the consumer, and all about them; and, as a rule, -lumber men know their own trade, and can give any reasonable amount of -information. I have been asking questions all my days; and, having a -good memory, very few facts get away from me.</p> - -<p>And so I am prepared to write a rhyme about anything at an hour’s -notice. If I am to write about a steam engine, or a whale, or the north -pole, I usually do it without consulting any books; at various times -I have questioned people about steam engines, and whales, and north -poles, and the things they told me are on file in my memory.</p> - -<p>So with these poems. They have been suggested by<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span> things I have heard -lumber men say, perhaps day before yesterday, perhaps twenty years ago.</p> - -<p>There are many people who will tell you I am not a poet, and I am not -going to quarrel with them about it. The true poet, in the estimation -of the highbrows, is one who can so befuddle a subject with words that -an ordinary citizen can’t tell what he is driving at. I have never had -an ambition to be that kind of a poet. Really, I can be as cryptic as -any of them, and can write things that would give you a sick headache, -trying to understand them; but few people enjoy sick headaches.</p> - -<p>I have never been interested in Greek gods or Lethean rivers, or -things remote, either in time or distance. Most of my life I have been -associated with people who worked hard for a living, and I have done -all kinds of manual labor myself. It is with such people, and such -varieties of labor, that my verses deal.</p> - -<p>The lumber yard on the corner is of more enduring interest to me than -the Field of the Cloth of Gold, on which sundry kings played to the -gallery long ago. Every time the lumberman sells a wagonload of his -goods he is contributing to the general welfare, as well as to his own; -and this fact seems more important to me than any story treating of the -doings of Ulysses or any other fabled gent. So I write of lumber and -let the gods slide.</p> - -<p class="right p0 p2"><span class="figcenter" id="img001"> - <img src="images/001.jpg" class="w10" alt="Walt Mason signature" /> -</span></p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="TREES">TREES</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Most every tree is made of wood; the best ones are remote from cities; -and in their cheerful neighborhood the birds keep singing ragtime -ditties. Beneath their limbs the children play and swing within their -leafy border, upon the long, bright summer day, when picnic parties -are in order. And now and then the poets come, to eulogize the forest -spirit, and you can hear their thought works hum, like auto wheels, -or pretty near it. And it may chance, upon a day, that farmers from -adjacent ranches, will bring a rope along this way, and hang an agent -from the branches.</p> - -<p>Now comes the woodman with his ax, and he selects some forest beauty; -then through its noble trunk he whacks—it is to him a thing of duty. -He has to feed his eighteen kids, he has to clothe his wife and auntie; -he has to buy them pies and lids, and put new paint upon his shanty. -And thus the forest giant falls, there’s none to shield it or deliver; -now other men in overalls, will float it down some rushing river. And -then through loud and busy mills the good old tree in fragments dashes, -and makes its bow as doors and sills, as scantling, joists and window -sashes.</p> - -<p>It’s strange to labor at a desk and think that it, all carved and -oaken, one time was standing, picturesque, amid a solitude unbroken; -once in the forest dark and dim, these pigeonholes and doodads rested; -this drawer was once a swaying limb, on which the robin sang and nested.</p> - -<p>I sit upon my swivel chair, and meditate upon its hist’ry; these rungs -and legs once waved in air, in all the strange primeval myst’ry.</p> - -<p>This stool on which I milk my cow, this club with which I swat the -heifers, though they are quite prosaic now, once rustled in the morning -zephyrs; once they had leaves, and in the dawn they sang the world-old -song of wonder; and in the dusk when day was gone, they saw the smiling -lovers under.</p> - -<p>This maple slat with which I soak my Willie when he gets too funny, and -on his daddy plays a joke, came from some woodland sweet and sunny.</p> - -<p>And thus in every lumber yard there’s food for pleasant meditation; a -plank inspires the modern bard, and tunes him up to beat creation.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="SPRING_COMING">SPRING COMING</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Winter winds were round us snorting, for a weary while; now that -Spring’s this way cavorting, we should wear a smile.</p> - -<p>Tempests, storms and kindred friskers lashed us with a whip, froze our -noses and our whiskers, gave us all the grip.</p> - -<p>Nights were cold and days were freezing, cheerless was the sky; we were -coughing, whooping, sneezing, till we wished to die.</p> - -<p>Now the winter’s quit its prancing, it’s an also ran; and the gentle -Spring, advancing, should encourage man.</p> - -<p>When the north winds, blood congealers, ripped along the earth, ’tisn’t -strange if lumber dealers strangers were to mirth.</p> - -<p>For there was no rush or clamor in the building trade; and the rusty -saw and hammer on the shelf were laid.</p> - -<p>But, since balmy spring is coming, and old winter’s canned, sounds of -building will be humming over all the land.</p> - -<p>When the skies are blue and sunny, and the birdlets sing, people will -be spending money, as they do each spring.</p> - -<p>They’ll be building gorgeous houses, all along the pike, shelter for -their steeds and cowses, fences and the like.</p> - -<p>So let glee and mellow laughter fill your lumber store, as you hand out -joist and rafter, scantling, sash and door.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="KNOWLEDGE_IS_POWER">KNOWLEDGE IS POWER</h2> -</div> - - -<p>When I go into someone’s store, to buy a nickel’s worth or more, some -questions I may spring; for I have an inquiring mind; all kinds of -facts I like to find, and place them on a string. I ask the grocer if -his tea was grown beside the Zuyder Zee, or down along the Po; and I’m -disgusted when he sighs, and claws his whiskers and replies, “I really -do not know.”</p> - -<p>I hold that every business man should follow up the good old plan and -know his stock in trade; the wise old grocer always knew just where his -shredded codfish grew, and where his prunes were made. The wise old -clothier knows that wool is never gathered from a bull, and tells his -patrons so; that merchant wearies by his acts, who answers, when you -ask for facts, “I’m sure I do not know.”</p> - -<p>We have a lumber man named Chee; I asked him, “On what sort of tree do -lath and shingles grow?” He said, “We<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span> have the shingles there, and -where they grew I do not care, and neither do I know.” This answer -filled me with amaze; he’d handled shingles all his days, and knew not -whence they came; he’d played his hand for forty years, since he was -wet behind the ears, and didn’t know the game.</p> - -<p>We have a lumber man named Dumm; I asked him, “Whence do shingles -come—oh, whither, why and whence?” He said, “I’m always glad to tell -the history of things I sell, regardless of expense. The shingle -trees,” I hear him say, “are only found at Hudson’s Bay, and they have -stately shapes; the shingles, which are long and slim, profusely grow -on every limb, in bunches, much like grapes. The natives harvest them -in March when they are firm and stiff with starch, and dry them in -the sun; then they remove the outer husk—which has a gentle smell of -musk—and thrash them, every one. Then they’re sandpapered, piece by -piece, and boiled six weeks in walrus grease, and smoked, like any ham; -and if there’s any more you’d know, about the way the shingles grow, -just ask me—here I am.”</p> - -<p>I’ve admiration and respect for one whose knowledge is correct, so I -am strong for Dumm; no matter what you ask that guy, he always has a -prompt reply—and he makes business hum! Men should be ready with a -spiel about the goods in which they deal, excuses won’t suffice; our -estimate is always low of men who never seem to know a thing except the -price.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="A_LONGING">A LONGING</h2> -</div> - - -<p>I’d like to deal in lumber, and sell, for honest mon, good shingles -without number, and scantling by the ton; I’d like to hand out timber -to patrons, all day long; the moulding, thin and limber, the pillar -firm and strong; for when a man is selling such things, which hit the -spot, to build the stately dwelling, the store and humble cot, he feels -that he is helping to push the world along, and so we hear him yelping -a sweet and joyous song.</p> - -<p>I’d like to deal in lumber, for then I’d have a hand in rousing from -its slumber, the tired and stagnant land; whene’er I sold a package, -and put away the dimes, I’d say, “I’m building trackage, toward the -better times!” Pride’s blush would then be mantling my bulging brow -upon; and when I sold a scantling I’d help the old world on.</p> - -<p>I’d help to build the silo, which fills a pressing need, in which the -rural Milo heaps up his juicy feed; I’d help to build<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span> the cottage in -which the Newlyweds consume their home-made pottage, with sunshine -in their heads; I’d help to build the palace where Crœsus counts his -chink, and hits the golden chalice when he would have a drink. I’d help -to build the cities, where busy people dwell; it is a thousand pities I -have no boards to sell!</p> - -<p>I want to have a hand in all good things that’s going on; I’d hate to -be astandin’ two idle feet upon! I’d hate to deal in moonshine, or take -the shining plunk for goods which have the prune shine of gold bricks -or of junk. You’ll find some merchants funny throughout this blooming -earth; I’d not enjoy my money, unless I gave its worth; unless the -goods I deal in had useful end and aim, though coin came in a-peltin’, -I’d not enjoy the game.</p> - -<p>I’d like to deal in lumber, in lime and lath, by jings, thus helping -to encumber the world with handsome things; I’d like to have a finger -in every worthy pie, I’d like my name to linger behind me when I die. -The lumber dealers figure in every useful scheme, in everything that’s -bigger than is an empty dream.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="GOOD_SIGNS">GOOD SIGNS</h2> -</div> - - -<p>When farmers bring their teams to town, and then drive home again, -their heavy wagons loaded down with boards and joists, why, then, it -is a sign that things are well, the goose is hanging high; and you may -safely dance and yell, for better times are nigh.</p> - -<p>All farmers who are safe and sane like handsome cribs and barns, and -for old shacks that let in rain they do not give three darns; but -when the hogs are dying off, of cholera or mumps, the farmer, with -affliction filled, looks on the old shacks near, and says, “I can’t -afford to build until some other year.”</p> - -<p>But when the hogs are feeling gay, and everything serene, and all the -oats and corn and hay present a healthy green, he hitches up old Kate -and Dick and journeys off to town, and then comes homeward pretty -quick, with lumber loaded down. And when I see the wagons drill along -the country road, each one a-creaking, loud and shrill, beneath its -lumber load, I know the country’s on the boom, and things will hum once -more; and any man who talks of gloom is just a misfit bore.</p> - -<p>Some people read the Wall Street news to see which way we head, and -some keep tab on Henry Clews, to see if we are dead; some follow up -what Congress does, and think therein they’ll find the signs that -business will buzz, or maybe fall behind.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span> And some are making frequent -notes upon the tariff law, to see if it will get our goats, and -dislocate our jaw.</p> - -<p>But when I want to know the truth, about our future fate, I pass up all -such things, forsooth, and sit on my front gate, and watch the farmers -going by, upon their way from town, and if with lumber piled up high, -their carts are loaded down, I know prosperity’s on top, good times are -here, you bet; and I go forth and whip a cop and chase a suffragette. -Oh, when the farmers spend their hoards for lumber, we enthuse; the -granger’s wagonload of boards tells more than Henry Clews.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="ADVERTISING">ADVERTISING</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Tell me not in mournful numbers, with the air of critics wise, that the -retail lumber dealer’s not the one to advertise.</p> - -<p>“Let the shoe and grindstone dealers fill the papers with their ads, -let the pharmacists be spielers for their pills and liver pads; let -the dry goods merchant merry sing in print his cheerful tunes, let the -boatman boom his wherry, let the grocer boost his prunes. But when men -are buying shingles they will seek you in your lair, and will need no -prose or jingles to induce their going there.”</p> - -<p>Thus I heard the mossback speaking as he sadly wagged his ears, and his -jaws and lungs were squeaking with the rust of many years. But I knew -his talk was twaddle that would fool no modern guys; for it’s true that -all men waddle to the stores that advertise.</p> - -<p>Why should men who deal in lumber make no bid for larger trade? Why -should they sit ’round and slumber, slumber sweetly in the shade? If an -ad will bring new patrons to the gas works or the bank, if it sells new -gowns to matrons, why won’t it sell a plank? If an ad will bring new -buyers to the corner ginseng store, to the man who deals in plyers, why -won’t it sell a door?</p> - -<p>In our town there is a dealer, selling lumber all the year, and he is -the boss appealer to the public’s grateful ear. Every day his little -sermon in the paper shows its face; when on building folks determine, -they go chasing to his place.</p> - -<p>Keep your name before the public, keep your business house in view, -and when men would build a steeple, they will surely think of you. -Advertising pays, you bet you! They who say “No” are absurd. Never let -your town forget you—make your name a household word.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="GOING_AFTER_THEM">GOING AFTER THEM</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Our lumber man, McMellow, is quite a hustling fellow, he’s ever -after trade. He says, “I’ve faith in jumping around for biz, and -humping—I’ve always found it paid. I think,” remarks McMellow, “that -there’s a streak of yellow in any gloomy lad, who spends his time -complaining, against the breeching straining, and says that trade is -bad.</p> - -<p>“My trade is what I make it; and I could blamed soon break it, if I -had doleful dumps, but when I find things dragging, I set my brains -a-wagging and do some fancy humps.</p> - -<p>“Today I heard John Abel intends to build a stable, about eight miles -from town; as there was nothing doing, and no excitement brewing, to -hold this village down, I thought I’d go and meet him, and to some -language treat him, and sell a little bill; and right there I enrolled -him a customer and sold him the roof-tree and the sill.</p> - -<p>“Keep busy is my motto; I have a small tin auto that scoots along with -vim; and when I hear some granger intends to build a manger, I burn the -road to him. The people see me scooting, they see me skally-hooting, -mile after breezy mile; they say, ‘He is so busy, he fairly makes us -dizzy—we kind o’ like his style.’</p> - -<p>“And when they want some woodwork—and want the best of good work, -which is the Curtis kind—or joists or lath or siding, to me they come -a’riding—that’s business, do ye mind?”</p> - -<p>You never see him slouching, you never see him grouching, or talking of -despair; he always keeps things humming, he’s always up a-coming, his -hind feet in the air.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="SUGGESTION">SUGGESTION</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Some merchants are so all-fired dumb, you wonder how they ever come -to sell the stuff they have in store, and keep the sheriff from the -door. Old Binkson is a lot that way; he seldom has a word to say. I ask -him for a pound of lime; he wraps it up, and all the time, he wears a -tragic air of doom, and sheds an atmosphere of gloom. He never chats, -he never spiels, nor jumps up high and cracks his heels. He isn’t -grouchy or unstrung; he never learned to wag his tongue.</p> - -<p>Oh, silence is a golden thing, when ’tisn’t worked too hard, by jing. -But none of us will stand up strong for men who<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span> gabble all day long, -and elocute a thousand miles in fifty-seven varied styles. The dealer -who is prone to talk until you hear him round a block, is worse than -t’other kind of bird, who’s never known to spring a word.</p> - -<p>But if you’ve scantling you would sell, you ought to boost it wisely -well, and if a gent should buy a plank, to build himself a dipping -tank, you might suggest ere home he speeds, that you have other things -he needs.</p> - -<p>I called on Lumber Dealer Gaff, to buy a shingle and a half. He put my -purchase in a sack, and wrapped a string around and back, and as he -toiled, in manner gay, he talked to pass the time away.</p> - -<p>“The farmers now, in busy troops, are building stately chicken coops; -the winter soon will hit the road, and hens must have a warm abode, or -they won’t lay their luscious eggs, but stand around on frozen legs.”</p> - -<p>And that recalled the fact to me that I had hens, some ninety-three, -and ere I left that lumber store, I bought a wagon load or more, of -stuff to build a chicken shed; it’s standing now, all painted red.</p> - -<p>And that’s the way big sales are made, and that is how men build up -trade. Talk corn cribs at the proper time, or prove a silo is sublime, -but in an incidental strain, and not as though you gladly sprain your -conscience—which I hope is hale—in eagerness to get the kale.</p> - -<p>Suggestion is a noble art; the wise man gets it down by heart.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_PIONEERS">THE PIONEERS</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Our fathers, in the bygone years, were bold and hardy pioneers. They -cleared the country of their foes, and made it blossom as the rose. -On prairies vast, by lonely lakes, they scrapped with Injuns and -with snakes, and whipped the large, fat grizzly bear, and chased the -groundhog to its lair.</p> - -<p>When first they cleared their patch of ground, the pioneers felt they -were bound to build thereon some sort of shacks, so they got busy with -the ax. How dire and gloomy was their plight! There was no lumber yard -in sight; they could not take a bunch of cash, and buy their windows, -doors and sash; they could not seek the haunts of trade, and buy a -house already made. The modern man, who plans to build a house, with -children to be filled, can to the lumber palace go, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span> spend a little -roll of dough, and get his boards, all planed and grooved, so slick -they couldn’t be improved. And in a very little while he builds a house -that’s quite in style.</p> - -<p>But it was different, my dears, with those old hardy pioneers; they -humped themselves like busy bees, and with their axes chopped down -trees, and of the branches made them bare, and chopped and chopped, and -made them square. And as they toiled around the boles, the Injuns shot -them full of holes. How would you like to build a shack, and have an -arrow in your back?</p> - -<p>But still they toiled on tireless shanks, and fashioned doors of -three-inch planks, and made their windows, high and broad, all out -of plumb and wapperjawed. Oh, did they sing, or did they swear, when -interrupted by a bear, which sized them up as juicy food, and chased -them through the lonely wood? Oh, did they laugh, or did they wail, -when wildcats got upon their trail? For once an hour their labors -ceased; they had to scrap with man or beast. It’s hard to work ’neath -such a strain; it frets the heart and jars the brain.</p> - -<p>Just ponder o’er those early shacks, all built with rusty saw and ax; -they once were viewed with lofty pride, in them our fathers lived and -died. How would you like it if you had to build log cabins, like your -dad? You’d surely think it pretty hard—you’d yearn for some good -lumber yard.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="OCTOBER_DAYS">OCTOBER DAYS</h2> -</div> - - -<p>It is a nipping, eager air; the signs of Fall are everywhere. The coal -man smiles, the ice man grieves; the trees have shed their summer -leaves; the cockleburs and other flowers that brighten all the summer -hours, are lying dead; the birds have flown to lands where blizzards -are unknown.</p> - -<p>The farmer sits around indoors, when he has done his evening chores, -and finished all the daily grind, and talks of plans he has in mind.</p> - -<p>“Amanda Jane,” he tells his wife, the faithful partner of his life, -“the time has come when we can build; the strongbox is with rubles -filled. It hasn’t been the best of years, but I have sold a bunch of -steers, and, too, a galaxy of swine, and quite a wad of dough is mine. -We’ll build the house we long have planned, with modern things on every -hand, with weather strips and folding doors, and walnut stairs and -rosewood floors.”</p> - -<p>“Now, Hiram, you are safe and sane,” remarks the glad<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span> Amanda Jane. -“For twenty weary years, alack, we’ve lived in this old dingy shack; -we’ve built fine shelter for the cows, and sheds palatial for the sows, -and gorgeous stables for the mules, and lived in this old shack, like -fools. Now let us have a dwelling fine, and not a dugout twelve by -nine. And, Hiram, bear this thought in mind: When buying, do not go -it blind. I’ve talked with women who have homes which are for beauty -simply pomes, and they have told me many a time, that cheap john -woodwork is a crime. With it your house will be a frost, regardless of -the roll it cost.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t worry, wife,” old Hiram sighs; “methinks you’ll find your -husband wise; I’ve had that matter long in mind, and I shall buy the -Curtis kind.”</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="HOUSING_THE_HELP">HOUSING THE HELP</h2> -</div> - - -<p>I tried to sell a load of slabs to Charles Augustus Clarence Dabbs. He -owns a farm some nine miles long, and twice as wide—unless I’m wrong; -I am not sure about its size, but it is big, or some one lies.</p> - -<p>“I cannot blow myself for slabs,” said Charles Augustus Clarence Dabbs; -“with forty kinds of grief I’m filled, I’m not in shape this year to -build. When one is loaded to the ears with cares and woes, and doubts -and fears, he’s in no mood to talk of planks, or building stunts, you -bet your shanks.</p> - -<p>“The government,” said Mr. Dabbs, “is on the farmers keeping tabs; it -looks to us to raise the wheat, that half the blooming world shall eat. -It looks to us for corn and hay, and succotash and beans and whey. -We farmers want to raise the stuff; we surely have desire enough; we -have the land, we have the mules, we have the seed, we have the tools, -but where in thunder shall we get the laborers, to toil and sweat? We -cannot keep men on the farm; the life appears to have no charm. I need -a half a dozen hands to cultivate my fertile lands; I’d give them work -the whole year round, if men of muscle could be found.”</p> - -<p>“It is a problem old and hoar,” I said, and sat down on the floor. “It -is a problem that will grow more frightful as the sad years go, unless -you farmers realize that laborers are human guys. They want to live a -normal life, each with his fireside and his wife, and not be packed in -garrets bare up forty miles of winding stair.</p> - -<p>“If I were farming, Mr. Dabbs, instead of selling rosewood slabs, I’d -build some nifty little shacks, to house my toiling<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span> Jills and Jacks. -I’d say to men I hired, ‘You see, you do not have to live with me; -you have your house in which to dwell, a garden and a cow and well, a -rooster and a Dorking hen, which things appeal to honest men.’</p> - -<p>“When you take up that sort of thing, your men will stay with you, by -jing.”</p> - -<p>Then Mr. Dabbs sat down by me. “There may be truth in that,” said he. -“I’m blamed if I don’t try it out, so let us see some plans, old scout.”</p> - -<p>We figured there for half a day, and when the patron drove away, he -hauled a load of joists and jambs, and seemed as chipper as nine clams.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CLASSY_HOMES">CLASSY HOMES</h2> -</div> - - -<p>The barber who is bald as blazes can’t sell me tonic for my hair, and -all his fine and ringing phrases strike me as merely heated air. The -tailor who is looking shabby can’t sell me clothes, howe’er he tries; -his eloquence seems vain and flabby, his course of conduct is not wise.</p> - -<p>The jeweler, whose watch is gaining, or losing, seven hours a day, -might spend a week or two explaining his wondrous skill—I’d go my way.</p> - -<p>If I were selling battle-axes, I’d see my own the best in town, as -slick and clean and smooth as wax is, a thing of fair and wide renown.</p> - -<p>One lumber man is always telling what kind of homes the folks should -build, and he lives in a rocky dwelling, with bargain counter fixtures -filled. And men who listen to his spieling remark, “Why don’t you -build, yourself? Your home is punk, from floor to ceiling, from kitchen -sink to pantry shelf.”</p> - -<p>The lumber man, more than all others, should show his faith in what he -sells, should demonstrate, to men and brothers, that his own home is -wearing bells. Then he can say to John and Alice, who think of putting -up a home, “Come out and see my little palace, examine it, from porch -to dome. Of goodly points it has a number, I think it good and up to -date; it shows what one can do with lumber, if he has got his head on -straight.”</p> - -<p>The workman who is always fussing can’t ply for me the monkey wrench; -the preacher who is always cussing can’t lead me to the mourner’s bench.</p> - -<p>The lumberman whose home is rocky can’t tell me what I ought to build; -though he be eloquent and talky, the force of all he says is killed.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="NECESSARY_GOODS">NECESSARY GOODS</h2> -</div> - - -<p>So many folks are selling things we really do not need! They sell us -pups and spiral springs, and patent chicken feed. A dozen times a -day or more I have to drop my pen; some chap is ringing at the door, -to sell a setting hen. A gent of rather seedy looks came to my shack -today, to sell me fifty-seven books—the works of Bertha Clay. And one -is selling china eyes, one deals in pewter spoons, and one would sell -me whisker dyes, another, musty prunes.</p> - -<p>I never waddle through the woods but some one comes along, and tries -to sell me useless goods, with tiresome dance and song. I’m weary of -the man who yells of jimcracks gone to seed; how stately is the man who -sells the goods men really need! I watch the lumberman go past, upon -his useful chores, to sell a mariner a mast, or fit a house with doors; -his boards and beams, of seasoned wood, for helpful arts are made; he -does our social fabric good when he builds up his trade.</p> - -<p>There’s nothing in the lumber store superfluous or vain; you do not -seek that dealer’s door fool doodads to obtain. And every time he sells -a bill, improvements there will be; the coin he puts into his till -helps the community. And when his goods are in demand, the better times -have come, your town will flourish and expand, the wheels of commerce -hum.</p> - -<p>I’m tired of buying pumpkin trees, and postholes by the crate, and -ostrich eggs, and swarms of bees, and tinhorn real estate. Hereafter I -shall blow my roll for articles worth while, a peck of lime, a load of -coal, a good large lumber pile.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_MIXER">THE MIXER</h2> -</div> - - -<p>I know a man who deals in planks, and he has money in nine banks. He -has a busy lumber booth, where he makes business hum, in sooth. And -when the day of toil is o’er, he might go home and rest and snore, and -put his feet upon a chair, and talk about his load of care. But when -he’s had his evening meal, and read the valued <i>Daily Squeal</i>, he -says, “Methinks I’ll go down town, and see what’s up, or maybe down.”</p> - -<p>He takes a hand in everything that makes our home town move and swing. -If boosters hold a jamboree, this lumber dealer there you’ll see, and -he will on his hind legs stand, and help to boost, to beat the band.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span></p> - -<p>If there’s a wedding at the kirk, this lumber man will leave his work, -and reach the scene with active stride, and he’s the first to kiss the -bride.</p> - -<p>When we arrange a big parade, you see this lumber man arrayed in all -his panoply and pomp, and down the street he’ll proudly romp.</p> - -<p>If we decide to lynch a gent, some agent for a patent tent, or one -who’s sold us mining shares, or double action easy chairs, that lumber -man is right on deck, and puts the rope around his neck.</p> - -<p>I hear folks say, “That lumber chap, has put this village on the map. -If we had twenty men like him, the town would sure be in the swim. He -is the first man, every time, to help to make things hump and climb.”</p> - -<p>The business man who hopes to win must boost the town he’s living in. -You cannot do the hermit stunt, and hope to travel at the front. Get -next to all that’s going on, mix in with Richard, James and John, and -help along the town’s affairs, and leave the grouches in their lairs.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="STAIRWAYS">STAIRWAYS</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Some years ago I built a house in which I settled, with my spouse. It -was a gorgeous shack, indeed; the kind of house of which you read. For -such a house I’d always yearned, and so I said, “Expense be derned! I -want the best that coin will buy; my dwelling place must stack up high. -I want a dwelling that will stand till I’m so old I should be canned.”</p> - -<p>I said, “I want a splendid stair, a stairway that’s beyond compare; the -kind you read about in books, with banisters and window nooks.”</p> - -<p>And so we built a noble stair, and it was surely passing fair; and -guests who came to spend the night, when viewing it, expressed delight, -and said it surely took the cake; it was a bird, and no mistake.</p> - -<p>But when the stair was five years old its antics made my trilbys cold. -It warped and twisted like the deuce, till half the steps and rails -were loose, it creaked and crackled, as in pain, and warped and bent -and warped again. It took a circus acrobat to climb my stairway after -that.</p> - -<p>Then came a neighbor to my door, who’d built a hundred shacks or more. -He viewed my stair and shed some weeps, and said, “That is a frost, -for keeps. You’d better take it out from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span> there and get yourself a -Curtis stair. The wood the Curtis people use will ne’er its right -proportions lose; it will not wind around, I wist, like some dadblamed -contortionist. For it is seasoned to a hair; there is no reckless -guesswork there.</p> - -<p>“The Curtis trademark on a stair just means that grief won’t travel -there. You have a stairway that will last until your earthly woes are -past, and you are playing golden lyres, or heaping brimstone on the -fires.</p> - -<p>“Your warped old stairway yet will wreck some fellow’s back or break -his neck, so pull it down, I humbly beg, before there is a broken leg. -Then get the Curtis seasoned wood, and have a stairway staunch and -good, and you will bless me every day for showing you the proper way.”</p> - -<p>And now a noble Curtis stair adds grace and comfort to my lair; I never -find it on the blink, it doesn’t warp or split or shrink.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="ALL_THE_TIME">ALL THE TIME</h2> -</div> - - -<p>This is the burden of my rhyme: Be nice and pleasant all the time. -Some men are only sweet and nice, when they desire to get the price. -The lumber men at Bungtown hear that I intend, some time this year, to -build a handsome Gothic shed, all up to date and painted red.</p> - -<p>At ordinary times these gents don’t smile at me worth twenty cents. -They pass me by and do not say, “How is your liver?” or “Good day!” But -since they’ve heard that I expect to build a shed that’s all correct, -a modern shed with wooden doors and handsome knotholes in the floors, -they’re so polite and smooth and sweet, they give me fantods in my feet.</p> - -<p>They do not win me with their grins; such work is coarse, and seldom -wins. If men would sell their laths and lime, they should be pleasant -all the time, and not, like some cheap candidate, just when they think -’twill pay the freight.</p> - -<p>I’ll buy the lumber for my shed, when I have got the coin ahead, from -dealers who are pleasant lads e’en when they are not after scads. There -are such dealers in our town, and no sane man would turn them down. I -meet them nearly every day, and talk with them of hogs and hay, and -bats and cats and curleycues, and ships and synagogues and shoes.</p> - -<p>They do not seem to care a red who sells the lumber for my shed; -they’re always pleasant and polite, they hand me smiles and treat me -right.</p> - -<p>So when I wish to buy a plank, I take some pennies from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span> the bank, and -cheerfully I blow the price with men who can’t help being nice.</p> - -<p>And when the Bungtown fellows know what I have done, they’ll droop -in woe; they’ll look on me with moody scorn, and wish I never had -been born. Their souls can’t reach the heights sublime; they can’t be -pleasant all the time.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="HOUSES_SCARCE">HOUSES SCARCE</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Oft I hear discordant slogans, hear the loud and sad lament; men are -wearing out their brogans hunting houses they can rent. Every village, -town and city sees the same discouraged crew; and it seems to me a pity -that good houses are so few.</p> - -<p>In my native burg, Empory, I see women chasing round, and they tell the -same old story—houses simply can’t be found. And the same sad word is -spoken everywhere I chance to roam; from Topeka to Hoboken folks are -hunting for a home.</p> - -<p>When they’re sick and tired of chasing, when their souls with woe are -filled, maybe they will do some bracing; maybe they’ll decide to build. -Rents are higher now than ever, and the prices won’t slump back, and -that man is really clever who will build himself a shack.</p> - -<p>“But the cost!” I hear men yawping; and they put up thoughtless roars, -for they never have been shopping at the modern lumber stores. Building -goods today are cheaper than all other goods you buy; all commodities -are steeper—ask the lumber dealer nigh.</p> - -<p>Monied men are often questing for gold bricks, and dern the price; -always ready for investing in blue sky and pickled ice. If they’d build -a lot of houses they might dwell in Easy street, where the catawampus -browses, and the dingbat’s song is sweet. Every time they’d build a -dwelling crowds would come, and still increase, crying, clamoring and -yelling, begging for a five-year lease.</p> - -<p>There’s no better proposition than this thing of building homes, and -the fact should find position in the plutocratic domes.</p> - -<p>And the man with modest bundle should be renting nevermore; he should -take his wad and trundle to the lumber dealer’s store.</p> - -<p>There should be a boom in building such as we have never seen; palaces -with ornate gilding, modest homes, all painted green.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="FLOORS">FLOORS</h2> -</div> - - -<p>The Eskimo has floors of ice, and probably he thinks them nice, and -strictly up to date; but if there ever came a thaw they’d be the worst -you ever saw, and that’s as sure as fate. The Arab has his floor of -sand; I have no doubt he thinks it grand, a floor beyond compare; but -sand is full of bugs and ants, and they climb up a fellow’s pants, when -he sits in a chair.</p> - -<p>The Mexican has floors of dirt, and floors of that sort will not hurt, -so long as weather’s dry; but when there comes a season wet such floors -are not the one best bet, which no one can deny.</p> - -<p>In olden times men built their homes with battlements and towers and -domes, and ornaments of gold; but all the floors were made of stone, -and they made people sigh and groan, they were so hard and cold.</p> - -<p>And then with rushes they were strewn, to make them warmer to the -shoon, and also to the feet; and those stale rushes would decay; their -scent would drive the folks away, in agonized retreat.</p> - -<p>It took uncounted years of toil and planning by the midnight oil to -dope out modern floors; the floors on which we dance and walk, and sing -and cuss and wildly talk of hoarders and such bores.</p> - -<p>The floors on which we spend our lives, and train our kids, and beat -our wives, are surely handsome things; be they of color light or dark, -we proudly view them and remark, “They’re good enough for kings.”</p> - -<p>Your mansion might have jasper walls, the finest painting in its halls -that artists can produce, and onyx stairs and marble doors, but if it -had no modern floors ’twould be a poor excuse.</p> - -<p>Good hardwood floors make life a pome; they beautify your happy home as -nothing else can do; your lumber dealer has the best; the years have -given it the test that means so much to you.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="DOORS">DOORS</h2> -</div> - - -<p>While doing here our earthly chores, we’re going in and out of doors; -doors have a part in all we do, until our little trip is through; and -then who knows what sort of door we’ll enter on the other shore?</p> - -<p>If I am welcome at your shack you gladly swing the door clear back, and -say, “Come in, you blamed old skate, and stay<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span> six months, or maybe -eight!” But if I sell “The Works of Poe,” you ope the door an inch or -so, and cry, “Go chase yourself, gadzooks! We do not want your tinhorn -books!”</p> - -<p>Oh, doors are good for many things; they’re used by peasants and by -kings; the humblest hut has three or two, and palaces have quite a few. -And I recall a bitter day, when I climbed on a dappled gray, a horse -that wasn’t brought up right; it liked to kick and buck and bite; it -threw me off, in wanton style, then sat on me for quite a while. I was -so crippled, bruised and sore, men took me home upon a door. It shows -how useful doors can be; I always carry two or three.</p> - -<p>We’re always viewing doors, you know; they face us everywhere we go; -on doors we knock, at doors we wait, and if they’re handsome, smooth -and straight, they strike us as a work of art, they’re soothing to the -mind and heart. But if they’re warped and out of plumb, and cracked and -cheap and on the bum, we think, “The owner doesn’t heed how much his -dwelling runs to seed.”</p> - -<p>I size up people by their doors; not by the rugs upon their floors.</p> - -<p>There’s nothing looks so dad-blamed punk as some cheap door that’s -warped and shrunk.</p> - -<p>The Curtis hardwood doors are great; they’re always true and fine and -straight; their beauty gladdens every eye, and years don’t make that -beauty fly. They’re built by experts, and each door is planned to sell -a hundred more; each one’s an ad for all the rest, and every Curtis -door’s the best.</p> - -<p>Oh, I could write a whole lot more, but some one’s rapping at the door.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="BUILDING_A_HOUSE">BUILDING A HOUSE</h2> -</div> - - -<p>I built a house, erect and square, its basement touched the ground; and -all my neighbors gathered there, and said it should be round. “Square -houses long are out of date,” remarked old Jabez Black, “and no one but -a fossil skate would build him such a shack.”</p> - -<p>“I see your shingles are of wood,” said Johnsing, with a grin; “you -ought to know they are no good—they should be made of tin. Your house -is sure the bummest job a man could find in town; I’ve half a mind to -raise a mob, and come and tear it down. The porch roof has too steep a -drop, it makes a wretched show; the basement should be built on top, -the garret down below.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span></p> - -<p>“You surely must have lost your head,” exclaimed old Captain Bean, “to -go and paint your mansion red, with trimmings of pea green. A person’s -eyes it fairly slams; the man who sees that paint will think he has the -James H. Jams, and he’ll be apt to faint. If you had made it pink and -blue, it would have hit the spot; but you have chosen such a hue as -makes the neighbors hot.”</p> - -<p>“I see your chimney is of brick,” said Colonel Sassafras; “and such a -bungle makes me sick—it should be built of glass. Glass chimneys now -are all the rage in Paris and in Rome, but you’re away behind the age, -when you put up a home.”</p> - -<p>“Upon a pivot,” said Judge Ace, “it should be built, just so, then you -could turn it round to face most all the winds that blow.”</p> - -<p>They all agreed that such a shack was never built before; it all -was wrong and out of whack, from roof to cellar door; except the -woodwork—that was grand, and beautiful and slick; they saw it had the -<span class="smcap">Curtis</span> brand, and so they could not kick.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_GLADSOME_SPIEL">THE GLADSOME SPIEL</h2> -</div> - - -<p>All Spring it rained to beat the band, and o’er the saturated land, the -water stood in pools; old Pluvius, who runs the rain, it seemed, had -water on the brain, and busted all the rules.</p> - -<p>The farmers had to sail in boats when they went forth to feed their -shotes, their ostriches and cows, and when they went to sow their beans -they had to go in submarines, they couldn’t use their plows.</p> - -<p>And in the cities things were worse, and gloomy as a country hearse was -nearly every face; men stood around in dripping crowds, and viewed the -stretch of leaking clouds, and called them a disgrace.</p> - -<p>Contractors, when they called on Hoar, who runs the corner lumber -store, would make an awful fuss; “this is the blinkest, blankest -Spring! We cannot do a doggone thing! It’s getting wuss and wuss! It -keeps on raining all day long, the mud goes through to old Hong Kong, -it will not dry till fall; unless the gods give us a show, out to the -poorfarm we must go, our families and all!”</p> - -<p>But Hoar, the cheerful lumberman, is one who always ties a can to every -gloomy thing; his optimism then he voiced, as he wrapped up a big oak -joist, and tied it with a string.</p> - -<p>“The rain,” he said, “is coming yet, and I admit it’s pretty<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span> wet, in -fact it’s almost damp; but you should hail it with delight, and shoo -your troubles out of sight, and bid your griefs decamp. The ground is -soaked clear through, you say, down to the center of Cathay, and that -is joyous news; it means good crops for sundry years, so it’s a sin to -sprinkle tears, or languish in the blues. The moisture stored in yonder -soil will make our divers kettles boil, and bring us coin galore; -you’ll have more palaces to build because the air with rain is filled, -so please cut out the roar.”</p> - -<p>The man who sees the good in things, who chirps around and smiles and -sings, and chortles by the year, not only boosts his private trade, but -sees the ghosts of others laid—the ghosts of doubt and fear.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="PERSONALITY">PERSONALITY</h2> -</div> - - -<p>One dealer cannot understand why people needing planks or sand go past -his door, to spend their mon with t’other dealers, Dadd & Son.</p> - -<p>His stock is just as good as Dadd’s; he gives as much for patron’s -scads; why, then, do people pass his door, and pass him up forevermore? -Perhaps he lacks the sort of charm that will all prejudice disarm, that -makes his gladsome patrons shout, “I like to deal with that old scout.”</p> - -<p>A man may study all the tricks of commerce, trade or politics, may -know his biz from A to Zed, and yet still fail to get ahead, if he -has not that winning way that makes a new hit every day. One doctor’s -good at making friends; from door to door he blithely wends, and fills -his patients up with pills, and cheerfully they pay his bills. This -doctor’s soon in Easy street; his motor choos along the street, he -wears large diamonds on his tie, his life is one long piece of pie.</p> - -<p>Another sawbones knows full well all lore the physics books can tell. -He studied medicine in Rome, and studied it some more at home. He knows -all corners of his game, all ailments of the human frame, and he could -cure the hopeless guy that other docs give up to die. But people say, -“We’d rather croak than have that sour-faced doctor bloke!”</p> - -<p>And thus it is in every line; the man who deals in coal or pine, the -man who sells a churn or farm, should have that asset men call “charm.” -With that on tap the world goes slick, and people say you are a brick; -they buy your hats, they buy your gourds, they buy your beeswax, beans -or boards. And if you lack it they will trot to one whose manner hits -the spot.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="PLANTING_A_TREE">PLANTING A TREE</h2> -</div> - - -<p>On Arbor Day I took a spade, and then a large round hole I made, and -planted there a tree; and in that tree, in coming days, the birds will -sing their roundelays; and twitter in their glee.</p> - -<p>I am an ancient also-ran; I am an old and feeble man, I soon must hit -the flume; but it’s a pleasant thing to know that there will be that -tree to show, when I am in the tomb. Beneath its boughs the kids will -play, and veterans all bent and gray will in its shade recline; and -peradventure one will sigh, “I well recall the dippy guy, who planted -here this pine. The swath he cut was very small, while he was on this -mundane ball, but when life neared its end, this tree he planted with -his spade, and here we’re resting in its shade, and bless him as a -friend.”</p> - -<p>And as the long, slow years go by, perchance that stately tree will -die; there’s death for all, it seems, and men, to earn the needed -plunk, will separate its mighty trunk, and fashion boards and beams.</p> - -<p>And one who plans to build a shack, will to the lumber dealer track, -and purchase beam and board; and carpenters will straightway go, and -build as fine a bungalow as mister can afford. The walls and roof of my -good tree, will shelter human grief and glee, for, maybe, untold years; -will echo to both sob and song, the laughter of the bridal throng, the -plash of old wives’ tears.</p> - -<p>I like to speculate this way; but now my boy comes in to say, ere he -departs for school, “That tree you planted by the fence now looks like -twenty-seven cents—it’s dead as Cæsar’s mule.”</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_SHOPPERS">THE SHOPPERS</h2> -</div> - - -<p>When people do their Christmas shopping, and blow in all their -hard-earned ore, to keep the Christmas spirit popping, they don’t call -at the lumber store.</p> - -<p>You do not see the Christmas spieler, with purse ajar and eyes a-gleam, -say to the cheerful lumber dealer, “Just wrap me up that ten-foot beam! -I have an aunt, Priscilla Hocking, to whom I’d send a present small; -that beam will surely fit her stocking like the paper on the wall.”</p> - -<p>You do not hear the shopper saying, “I want a gift for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</span> Uncle Hank, so -let me see you busy weighing about ten yards of basswood plank.”</p> - -<p>No shoppers tighten their surcingles in lumber yards, at Christmas -time, and buy their girls a lot of shingles, or sundry pecks of -unslacked lime.</p> - -<p>A man might think the lumber dealer was off the map, and in the shade, -without a tendril or a feeler upon the blooming Christmas trade. But -all the year they’re building houses, with stuff the lumber dealer -sells, in which the Christmas crowd carouses, and good old Santa whoops -and yells. Beneath yon roof there’s joyous laughter, that indicates -good will to men; and every two-by-four and rafter came from the lumber -dealer’s den. The walls on which you see the holly, were furnished by -the lumber man, who is, like Claus, serene and jolly, and does his -stunt the best he can. The door at which the guest is greeted with -kindness which should hit him hard, and everything that’s nailed or -cleated, comes from the modest lumber yard.</p> - -<p>You cannot have a Christmas frolic, with joy and laughter in the air, -and nuts and candies—causing colic—but that the lumber man is there.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_NEW_YEAR">THE NEW YEAR</h2> -</div> - - -<p>The old year’s gone where dead years go, the New Year comes across the -snow, and chortles at the door; it seems to say, “Behold in me the -smoothest year you’ll ever see—none like me came before!”</p> - -<p>But years, my friends, are much the same; they stay a while and play -their game, and then they disappear; they’re modeled on the same old -plan; success depends on Mr. Man, and not on any year. The finest year -that ever grew will bring no rich rewards to you, if you’re a shiftless -chap; the poorest year that they can send will see you prosper without -end, if you have vim and snap.</p> - -<p>We shouldn’t wait for friendly gods to come and multiply our wads, or -fetch us wood to burn; the new year isn’t apt to bring to you or me a -doggone thing that we don’t go and earn. We shouldn’t dream when New -Year comes, or sit around and twirl our thumbs, and wish ourselves good -cheer; ’twere better far to count our breaks and figure up the bad -mistakes that cost us much last year.</p> - -<p>“The lumber man across the way is doing business every<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span> day, while I -sit here and mope; there is some reason, sure, for that; I’ll find it, -too, or eat my hat,” thus muses David Dope. And so he rustles ’round -to find why trade is falling far behind; that’s better far, old scout, -than quoting pretty New Year rhymes and harking to the clanging chimes -that ring the old year out. “You bet,” says David, and he grins, “this -year I’ll guard against the sins that put me in the hole; I’m bound -this year will treat me well, so watch your Uncle David sell his -lumber, lime and coal.”</p> - -<p>And thus the year is good or bad according to the sort of lad who has -it by the horns; if you are bound to win, you will; if not, the year -your hopes will kill, and spoil your choicest corns.</p> - -<p class="center p0 p2"><span class="figcenter" id="img003"> - <img src="images/003.jpg" class="w10" alt="Decorative image" /> -</span></p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter transnote"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="Transcribers_Notes">Transcriber’s Notes</h2> - - -<p>In a few cases, obvious errors in punctuation have been fixed.</p> - -<p>The cover image has been modified to repair some damage and is placed in the public domain.</p> -</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LUMBER LYRICS ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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