henever there's rain, and they haven't their
lanterns at night; men tire of the failures who fill with their
sighs the air of their own neighborhoods; there's one who is
greeted with love-lighted eyes--he's The Man Who Delivers the
Goods. One fellow is lazy, and watches the clock, and waits for
the whistle to blow; and one has a hammer, with which he will
knock, and one tells a story of woe; and one, if requested to
travel a mile, will measure the perches and roods; but one does
his stunt with a whistle or smile--he's The Man Who Delivers
the Goods. One man is afraid that he'll labor too hard--the
world isn't yearning for such; and one man is always alert, on
his guard, lest he put in a minute too much; and one has a
grouch or a temper that's bad, and one is a creature of moods;
so it's hey for the joyous and rollicking lad--for the One Who
Delivers the Goods!

_Walt Mason._

From "Walt Mason, His Book."

THE QUITTER

In the famous naval duel between the _Bonhomme Richard_ and the
_Serapis_, John Paul Jones was hailed by his adversary to know whether
he struck his colors. "I have not yet begun to fight," was his answer.
When the surrender took place, it was not Jones's ship that became the
prize of war. Everybody admires a hard fighter--the man who takes
buffets standing up, and in a spirit of "Never say die" is always ready
for more.

When you're lost in the wild and you're scared as a child,
And death looks you bang in the eye;
And you're sore as a boil, it's according to Hoyle
To cock your revolver and die.
But the code of a man says fight all you can,
And self-dissolution is barred;
In hunger and woe, oh it's easy to blow--
It's the hell served for breakfast that's hard.

You're sick of the game? Well now, that's a shame!
You're young and you're brave and you're bright.
You've had a raw deal, I know, but don't squeal.
Buck up, do your damnedest and fight!
It's the plugging away that will win you the day,
So don't be a piker, old pard;
Just draw on your grit; it's so easy to quit--
It's the keeping your chin up that's hard.

It's easy to cry that you're beaten and die,
It's easy to crawfish and crawl,
But to fight and to fight when hope's out of sight,
Why, that's the best game of them all.
And though you come out of each grueling bout,
All broken and beaten and scarred--
Just have one more try