I　was　not　born　with　a　silver　spoon　in　my　mouth；　altho　it　is　quite　evident　that　I　could　have　handled　a　pretty　good…sized　spoon。　But　father　being　a　country　preacher；　we　had　tin　spoons。　We　never　had　to　tie　a　red　string　around　our　spoons　when　we　loaned　them　for　the　ladies'　aid　society　oyster　supper。　We　always　got　our　spoons　back。　Nobody　ever　traded　with　us　by　mistake。
  Do　you　remember　the　first　money　you　ever　earned？　I　do。　I　walked　several　miles　into　the　country　those　old　reaper　days　and　gathered　sheaves。　That　night　I　was　proud　when　that　farmer　patted　me　on　the　head　and　said；　〃You　are　the　best　boy　to　work；　I　ever　saw。〃　Then　the　cheerful　old　miser　put　a　nickel　in　my　blistered　hand。　That　nickel　looked　bigger　than　any　money　I　have　since　handled。
  That　〃Last　Day　of　School〃
  Yet　I　was　years　learning　it　is　much　easier　to　make　money　than　to　handle　it；　hence　the　tale　that　follows。
  I　was　sixteen　years　old　and　a　school　teacher。　Sweet　sixteenwhich　means　green　sixteen。　But　remember　again；　only　green　things　grow。　There　is　hope　for　green　things。　I　was　so　tall　and　awkward　thenI　haven't　changed　much　since。　I　kept　still　about　my　age。　I　was　several　dollars　the　lowest　bidder。　They　said　out　that　way；　〃Anybody　can　teach　kids。〃　That　is　why　I　was　a　teacher。
  I　had　never　studied　pedagogy；　but　I　had　whittled　out　three　rules　that　I　thought　would　make　it　go。　My　first　rule　was；　Make　'em　study。　My　second；　Make；　em　recite。　That　is；　fill　'em　up　and　then　empty　'em。
  My　third　and　most　important　rule　was；　Get　your　money！
  I　walked　thirteen　miles　a　day；　six　and　a　half　miles　each　way；　most　of　the　time；　to　save　money。　I　think　I　had　all　teaching　methods　in　use。　With　the　small　fry　I　used　a　small　paddle　to　win　their　confidence　and　arouse　their　enthusiasm　for　an　education。　With　the　pupils　larger　and　more　muscular　than　their　teacher　I　used　love　and　moral　suasion。
  We　ended　the　school　with　an　〃exhibition。〃　Did　you　ever　attend　the　old　back…country　〃last　day　of　school　exhibition〃？　The　people　that　day　came　from　all　over　the　township。　They　were　so　glad　our　school　was　closing　they　all　turned　out　to　make　it　a　success。　They　brought　great　baskets　of　provender　and　we　had　a　feast。　We　covered　the　school　desks　with　boards；　and　then　covered　the　boards　with　piles　of　fried　chicken；　doughnuts　and　forty　kinds　of　pie。
  Then　we　had　a　〃doings。〃　Everybody　did　a　stunt。　We　executed　a　lot　of　literature　that　day。　Execute　is　the　word　that　tells　what　happened　to　literature　in　District　No。　1；　Jackson　Township；　that　day。　I　can　shut　my　eyes　and　see　it　yet。　I　can　see　my　pupils　coming　forward　to　speak　their　〃pieces。〃　I　hardly　knew　them　and　they　hardly　knew　me；　for　we　were　〃dressed　up。〃　Many　a　head　showed　father　had　mowed　it　with　the　sheepshears。　Mother　had　been　busy　with　the　wash…ragclear　back　of　the　ears！　And　into　them！　So　many　of　them　wore　collars　that　stuck　out　all　stiff　like　they　had　pushed　their　heads　on　thru　their　big　straw　hats。
  I　can　see　them　speaking　their　〃pieces。〃　I　can　see　〃The　Soldier　of　the　Legion　lay　dying　in　Algiers。〃　We　had　him　die　again　that　day；　and　he　had　a　lingering　end　as　we　executed　him。　I　can　see　〃The　boy　stood　on　the　burning　deck；　whence　all　but　he　had　fled。〃　I　can　see　〃Mary's　little　lamb〃　come　slipping　over　the　stage。　I　see　the　tow…headed　patriot　in　〃Give　me　liberty　or　give　me　death。〃　I　feel　now　that　if　Patrick　Henry　had　been　present；　he　would　have　said；　〃Give　me　death。〃
  There　came　a　breathless　hush　as　〃teacher〃　came　forward　as　the　last　act　on　the　bill　to　say　farewell。　It　was　customary　to　cry。　I　wanted　to　yell。　Tomorrow　I　would　get　my　money！　I　had　a　speech　I　had　been　saying　over　and　over　until　it　would　say　itself。　But　somehow　when　I　got　up　before　that　〃last　day　of　school〃　audience　and　opened　my　mouth；　it　was　a　great　opening；　but　nothing　came　out。　It　came　out　of　my　eyes。　Tears　rolled　down　my　cheeks　until　I　could　hear　them　spatter　on　my　six…dollar　suit。
  And　my　pupils　wept　as　their　dear　teacher　said　farewell。　Parents　wept。　It　was　a　teary　time。　I　only　said；　〃Weep　not　for　me；　dear　friends。　I　am　going　away；　but　I　am　coming　back。〃　I　thought　to　cheer　them　up；　but　they　wept　the　more。
  Next　day　I　drew　my　money。　I　had　it　all　in　one　joyous　wad240。　I　was　going　home　with　head　high　and　aircastles　even　higher。　But　I　never　got　home　with　the　money。　Talk　about　the　fool　and　his　money　and　you　get　very　personal。
  For　on　the　way　home　I　met　Deacon　K；　and　he　borrowed　it　all。　Deacon　K　was　〃such　a　good　man〃　and　a　〃pillar　of　the　church。〃　I　used　to　wonder；　tho；　why　he　didn't　take　a　pillow　to　church。　I　took　his　note　for　240；　〃due　at　corncutting；〃　as　we　termed　that　annual　fall…time　paying　up　season。　I　really　thought　a　note　was　not　necessary；　such　was　my　confidence　in　the　deacon。
  For　years　I　kept　a　faded；　tear…spattered；　yellow　note　for　240；　〃due　at　corncutting；〃　as　a　souvenir　of　my　first　schoolteaching。　Deacon　K　has　gone　from　earth。　He　has　gone　to　his　eternal　reward。　I　scarcely　know　whether　to　look　up　or　down　as　I　say　that。　He　never　left　any　forwarding　address。
  I　was　paid　thousands　in　experience　for　that　first　schoolteaching；　but　I　paid　all　the　money　I　got　from　ittwo　hundred　and　forty　thirteen…mile…a…day　dollars　to　learn　one　thing　I　could　not　learn　from　the　books；　that　it　takes　less　wisdom　to　make　money；　than　it　does　to　intelligently　handle　it　afterwards。　Incidentally　I　learned　it　may　be　safer　to　do　business　with　a　first…class　sinner　than　with　a　second…class　saint。
  Which　is　no　slap　at　the　church；　but　at　its　worst　enemies；　the　foes　of　its　own　household。
  Calling　the　Class…Roll
  A　lyceum　bureau　once　sent　me　back　to　my　home　town　to　lecture。　I　imagine　most　lecturers　have　a　hard　time　lecturing　in　the　home　town。　Their　schoolmates　and　playmates　are　apt　to　be　down　there　in　the　front　rows　with　their　families；　and　maybe　all　the　old　scores　have　not　yet　been　settled。　The　boy　he　fought　with　may　be　down　there。　Perhaps　the　girl　who　gave　him　the　〃mitten〃　is　there。
  And　he　has　gotten　his　lecture　out　of　that　home　town。　The　heroes　and　villains　live　there　within　striking　distance。　Perhaps　they　have　come　to　hear　him。　〃Is　not　this　the　carpenter's　son？〃　Perhaps　this　is　why　some　lecturers　and　authors　are　not　so　popular　in　the　home　town　until　several　generations　pass。
  I　went　back　to　the　same　hall　to　speak；　and　stood　upon　the　same　platform　where　twenty…one　years　before　I　had　stood　to　deliver　my　graduating　oration；　when　in　impassioned　and　well　modulated　tones　I　had　exclaimed；　〃Greece　is　gone　and　Rome　is　no　more；　but　fe…e…e…e…ear　not；　for　I　will　sa…a…a…a…ave　you！〃　or　words　to　that　effect。
  Then　I　went　back　to　the　little　hotel　and　sat　up　alone　in　my　room　half　the　night　living　it　over。　Time　was　when　I　thought　anybody　who　could　live　in　that　hotel　was　a　superior　order　of　being。　But　the　time　had　come　when　I　knew　the　person　who　could　go　on　living　in　any　hotel　has　a　superior　order　of　vitality。
  I　held　thanksgiving　services　that　night。　I　could　see　better。　I　had　a　picture　of　the　school　in　that　town　that　had　been　taken　twenty…one　years　before；　just　before　commencement。　I　had　not　seen　the　picture　these　twenty…one　years；　for　I　could　not　then　afford　to　buy　one。　The　price　was　a　quarter。
  I　got　a　truer　perspective　of　life　that　night。　Did　you　ever　sit　alone　with　a　picture　of　your　classmates　taken　twenty…one　years　before？　It　is　a　memorable　experience。
  A　class　of　brilliant　and　gifted　young　people　went　out　to　take　charge　of　the　world。　They　were　so　glad　the　world　had　waited　so　long　on　them。　They　were　so　willing　to　take　charge　of　the　world。　They　were　going　to　be　presidents　and　senators　and　authors　and　authoresses　and　scientists　and　scientist…esses　and　geniuses　and　genius…esses　and　things　like　that。
  There　was　one　boy　in　the　class　who　was　not　naturally　bright。　It　was　not　the　one　you　may　be　thinking　of！　No；　it　was　Jim　Lambert。　He　had　no　brilliant　career　in　view。　He　was　dull　and　seemed　to　lack　intellect。　He　was　〃conditioned〃　into　the　senior　class。　We　all　felt　a　little　sorry　for　Jim。
  As　commencement　day　approached；　the　committee　of　the　class　appointed　for　that　purpose　took　Jim　back　of　the　schoolhouse　and　broke　the　news　to　him　that　they　were　going　to　let　him　graduate；　but　they　were　not　going　to　let　him　speak；　because　he　couldn't　make　a　speech　that　would　do　credit　to　such　a　brilliant　class。　They　hid　Jim　on　the　stage　back　of　the　oleander　commencement　night。
  Shake　the　barrel！
  The　girl　who　was　to　become　the　authoress　became　the　helloess　in　the　home　telephone　exchange；　and　had　become　absolutely　indispensable　to　the　community。　The　girl　who　was　to　become　the　poetess　became　the　goddess　at　the　general　delivery　window　and　superintendent　of　the　stamp…licking　department　of　the　home　postoffice。　The　boy　who　was　going　to　Confess　was　raising　the　best　corn　in　the　county；　and　his　wife　was　speaker　of　the　house。
  Most　of　them　were　doing　very　well　even　Jim　Lambert。　Jim　had　become　the　head　of　one　of　the　big　manufacturing　plants　of　the　South；　with　a　lot　of　men　working　for　him。　The　committee　that　took　him　out　behind　the　schoolhouse　to　inform　him　he　could　not　speak　at　commencement；　would　now　have　to　wait　in　line　before　a　frosted　door　marked；　〃Mr。　Lambert；　Private。〃　They　would　have　to　send　up　their　cards；　and　the　watchdog　who　guards　the　door　would　tell　them；　〃Cut　it　short；　he's　busy！〃　before