ANDREW CARNEGIE AND POVERTY.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume XXXXII, Issue 98, 17 May 1900, Page 3

ANDREW CARNEGIE AND POVERTY.

(Geo. V. Hobari in Appeal to Reason.) As Mr. Andrew Carnegie observes: " Poverty is a blessed heritage." Yes. Next to having 51.38 above expenses, poverty is the sweetest heritage that can possibly be heiited. What is a poor man without poverty? Ah, what? There is no sadder sight in all the spectacular scenes of this sphere tnan a rich man surrounded by his loving relatives, who fret for his funeral. For the poor the fresh air of heaven anl, an appetite that coyly tempts them to bite shingle nails. For the rich nothing but the miseries of trussed terrapin and marmalade macaroons. Oh tlw hvrrora nsupilade me>vwowl

Poverty is, indeed, a blessed heritage. And so many of us are loaded plumb to the hatches with the b.h. How happy we should. I

Did you ever stop to think how cruel it is that a rich man has to go through the world without the blessed heritage of poverty 1 We who wallow selfishly in our own b.h. seldom have time to sigh for the rich man who is permitted to sprinkle salt on the tail of a blessed heritage. Possibly we haven't time to sigh, because we are at that moment busily engaged in running 18 miles to the northeast, playfully pursued by a bill collector. The fact that the bill collector was inspired to catch us and whisper sweet nothings in our ears by one of the heritageless rich men who owns a bologna faotory makes our selfishness all the more inexcusable. Some day when you meet Mr. Andrew Carnegie on the street forget for a moment your pride and speek sweetly to him. Say unto him: " Hello, Andy! My heart grieves for you! You are lonely and unhappy without the blessed heritage of poverty. Take four dollars worth of mine—nay! nay! thank me not, Andy! If 'twill bring you a moment's pleasure take six dollars' worth, and give the amount named in small bills, please!" I Note with what avidity he will exchange his garish greenbacks for the pleasure of possessing even six little dollars' worth poverty. Yes. Note, incidentally, the haggard horrors that have been heaped upon him by relentless riches. His coat hangs from his shoulders just as though it had been made expressly for him, with never a button missing. Oh, the misery of it all! His necktie cost eight dollars a yard and looks like a map of Michigan struck by a rollicking rainbow. Note that cruel scar under the lower lip. That was caused by a silver spoon. Yes, one evening while engaged in carrying a silver spoonful of scintillating soup to its terminal station, news was brought him that an employe had thoughtlessly kicked the ear off an inoffensive pig of iron. The shock caused him to lose control of the spoon's steering gear, and it entered into a hearty collaboration with a retiring part of his chin. At the same time the saucy soup, delighted to regain its freedom, put an $8 scar on a hemstitched tablecloth. Oh, the curse of gold! Some day when you are weary with basking in the beauties of your blessed heritage saunter into the private office of John D. Rockefeller.. John will be tickled into a frenzy to see you. We of the blessed heritage are so selfish, so selfish ! We never think of running in on John to shake a day-day and cheer him up with our exciting little stories of the home life of those who are safely pinned to the extreme end of a blessed heritage. John will lock up the safe any time to listen to a story of how the kerosene lamp explodedatid set fire to the cat, and will thrill with pleasure when you tell him that the cat jumped into the bread pan and rendered the last baking you had in the house unfit for publication. Saunter into John's priva'e office some day. If J. Pierpont Morgan happens to be there cursing the luck that makes his income slop over four million dollars a day, John will chase Pier out into the corridor and invite you to take a comfortable seat. Of course, you mustn't take the comfortable seat with you when you leave the building. The rich must not be made to feel too keenly their unfortunate position.

Take John's poor, wasted hand in yours and notice how the cruel scissors have left their awful marks around the thumb and second finger of the right hand. Possibly you may perceive a! woful water blister peeping shyly from beneath that same thumb. All these miseries are caused by the daily toil of clipping coupons, and the disease is known as oouponisis. But, be not afraid. It is not catching.. Those who have the blessed blessed heritage of poverty are immune. Pardon me just a moment. There's a lyric lingering in my larynx and I must let it loose: Trust in Leather, Trust in Ales Trust in Copper, Trust in Nails. Trust in Whiskey, Trust in Wine, Trnst in Iron, Trust in Twine. Trust in Pickles, Trust in Tools, Trust in Gumdrops, Trust in Mules. Trust in Harness, Trust in Meal, Trust in Dry Goods, Trust in Steel. Trust in Rubber, Trust in Hens, Trust in Paper, Trust in Pens. , Trust in Sawdust, Trust in Rice, Trust in Green Goods, Trust in Ice. Here's the limit; Andrew 0 Wants a Trust in Poverty.