ider for the whole farmyard and was asking a blessing on the
food; when he meets another rooster, he crows; and when the other
rooster licks him, he crows; and so he keeps it up straight through the
day. He even wakes up during the night and crows a little on general
principles. But when you hear from a hen, she's laid an egg, and she
don't make a great deal of noise about it, either.

I speak of these things in a general way, because I want you to keep in
mind all the time that steady, quiet, persistent, plain work can't be
imitated or replaced by anything just as good, and because your request
for a job for Courtland Warrington naturally brings them up. You write
that Court says that a man who has occupied his position in the world
naturally can't cheapen himself by stepping down into any little
piddling job where he'd have to do undignified things.

I want to start right out by saying that I know Court and his whole
breed like a glue factory, and that we can't use him in our business.
He's one of those fellows who start in at the top and naturally work
down to the bottom, because that is where they belong. His father gave
him an interest in the concern when he left college, and since the old
man failed three years ago and took a salary himself, Court's been
sponging on him and waiting for a nice, dignified job to come along and
steal him. But we are not in the kidnapping business.

The only undignified job I know of is loafing, and nothing can cheapen a
man who sponges instead of hunting any sort of work, because he's as
cheap already as they can be made. I never could quite understand these
fellows who keep down every decent instinct in order to keep up
appearance, and who will stoop to any sort of real meanness to boost up
their false pride.

[Illustration: "_Jim Hicks dared Fatty Wilkins to eat a piece of
dirt._"]

They always remind me of little Fatty Wilkins, who came to live in our
town back in Missouri when I was a boy. His mother thought a heap of Fatty,
and Fatty thought a heap of himself, or his stomach, which was the same
thing. Looked like he'd been taken from a joke book. Used to be a great
eater. Stuffed himself till his hide was stretched as tight as a sausage
skin, and then howled for painkiller. Spent all his pennies for cakes,
because candy wasn't filling enough. Hogged 'em in the shop, for fear he
would have to give some one a bite if he ate them on the street.

The other boys didn't take to