upon the waters, when days were dark,
discouragements many and faith weak. I am waiting now for another
slice of this "buttered bread" about the size of old Kentucky dry.

If I could live life over I would put a better bit to my tongue, and a
better bridle on my temper. An Englishman said: "My wife has a temper;
if she could get rid of it I would not exchange her for any woman in
the world."

Two men meet and have a misunderstanding; one flies into a passion,
shoots or stabs, while the other stands placid and self-contained,
preserving his dignity. The world calls the first a brave man and the
latter a coward; but Solomon declared the man who rules himself to be
"greater than he that taketh a city."

Oh! the tragedies that lie in the wake of the tempest of temper. On
the dueling field such men as Alexander Hamilton went down to death
for want of self-control. Andrew Jackson killed Dickerson; Benton of
Missouri killed Lucas; General Marmaduke killed General Walker. Pettus
and Biddle, one a Congressman, the other a paymaster in the army, had
a war of words, a challenge followed; one being near-sighted selected
five feet as the distance for the duel, and there educated men, with
pistols almost touching, stood, fired and both were killed.

Senator Carmack of Tennessee, criticised Colonel Cooper as a machine
politician. Cooper said: "Put my name in your paper again, and I'll
kill you." Young Cooper felt in his rage that he must settle the
trouble. Did he settle it? The bullet that went through the heart of
Carmack went through the heart of his wife, threw a shadow over the
life of his child, and draped Tennessee in mourning. Did he settle it?
He started a tempest that will howl through his life while memory
lasts and echo through his soul to all eternity. Oh! that men would
realize that to walk honorably and deal justly insures in time
vindication from all calumny.

Abraham Lincoln was called the "Illinois baboon" by a leading journal,
but Mr. Lincoln placidly read the charge, and told a joke as a safety
valve for whatever anger he may have felt. One hundred years go by and
the President leaves Washington and goes on a long journey to stand at
a cabin door in Kentucky, there to pay tribute to a man who "never
lost his balance or tore a passion to tatters."

I stood in front of the great Krupp gun at the World's Fair, and as
the soldier in charge told me that one discharge cost one thousand
dollars, and it could send a