Now there was a man 'at jes 'peared-like, to me, 'At ortn't _a-never_ a-died! "But death hain't a-showin' no favors," the old boss said-- "On'y to _Jim_!" and cried: And Wigger, who puts up the best sewed-work in the shop-- Er the whole blame neighborhood,-- He says, "When God made Jim, I bet you He didn't do anything else that day But jes set around and feel good!" [Illustration] [Illustration] THE BEST IS GOOD ENOUGH I quarrel not with Destiny, But make the best of everything-- The best is good enough for me. Leave Discontent alone, and she Will shut her month and let _you_ sing. I quarrel not with Destiny. I take some things, or let 'em be-- Good gold has always got the ring; The best is good enough for me. Since Fate insists on secrecy, I have no arguments to bring-- quarrel not with Destiny. The fellow that goes "haw" for "gee" Will find he hasn't got full swing. The best is good enough for me. One only knows our needs, and He Does all of the distributing. I quarrel not with Destiny; The best is good enough for me. [Illustration] HONEY DRIPPING FROM THE COMB How slight a thing may set one's fancy drifting Upon the dead sea of the Past!--A view-- Sometimes an odor--or a rooster lifting A far-off "_Ooh! ooh-ooh!_" And suddenly we find ourselves astray In some wood's-pasture of the Long Ago-- Or idly dream again upon a day Of rest we used to know. I bit an apple but a moment since-- A wilted apple that the worm had spurned.-- Yet hidden in the taste were happy hints Of good old days returned.-- And so my heart, like some enraptured lute, Tinkles a tune so tender and complete, God's blessing must be resting on the fruit-- So bitter, yet so sweet! AS MY UNCLE USED TO SAY I've thought a power on men and things, As my uncle ust to say,-- And ef folks don't work as they pray, i jings! W'y, they ain't no use to pray! Ef you want somepin', and jes dead-set A-pleadin' fer it with both eyes wet, And _tears_ won't bring it, w'y, you try _sweat_, As my uncle ust to say. They's some don't know their A, B, C's, As my uncle ust to say, And yit don't waste no candle-grease, Ner whistle their lives away! But ef they can't write no book, ner rhyme No singin' song fer to last all time, They can blaze the way fer the march sublime, As my uncle ust to say. [Illustration] Whoever's Foreman of all things here, As my uncle ust to say, He knows each job 'at we're best fit fer, And our round-up, night and day: And a-sizin' _His_ work, east and west, And north and south, and worst and best. I ain't got nothin' to suggest, As my uncle ust to say. [Illustration] WE MUST BELIEVE _"Lord, I believe: help Thou mine unbelief."_