On this famous mountain top we were hailed by a man of middle
age who belongs to that class of men who are constantly
reminding you they would have made good in life if they only had
a chance, despite the fact that many constant toilers find the
places of more educated men who are deceived into thinking their
education would take the place of honest toil. This particular
man doubtless never learned that "all values have their basis in
cost, and labor is the first cost of everything on which we set
a price." The prizes of life are not laid upon easily accessible
shelves but are placed out of reach to be labored for, like the
views one gets of the valley here only after paying the price in
an exceedingly toilsome journey. He was content to grope in a
dead past for glories that once had been.
"I stopped you," said he, "because I saw you are from Ohio and I
thought you might know some people for whom I once worked."
Looking across the way at the poorly kept home with its untidy
surroundings, where pigs, chickens, dogs, pet crows and children
alike had access to both parlor and kitchen, we doubted whether
the man could be located, for whom he ever had worked. We
learned that he had business that brought him from the fertile
valleys of Ohio to his mountain home. When anyone unsolicited
begins to tell of his business or what it used to be, beware,
for the real workers of the world have no time to tell what they
are doing.
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