e world that a great man would naturally select to
be born in, began the life of one who, by his own unaided effort, in
after years rose to the proud height of postmaster at Laramie City, Wy.
T., and with an estimate of the future that seemed almost prophetic,
resigned before he could be characterized as an offensive partisan.

Here on the banks of the raging Piscataquis, where winter lingers in
the lap of spring till it occasions a good deal of talk, there began a
career which has been the wonder and admiration of every vigilance
committee west of the turbulent Missouri.

There on that spot, with no inheritance but a predisposition to baldness
and a bitter hatred of rum; with no personal property but a misfit
suspender and a stone-bruise, began a life history which has never
ceased to be a warning to people who have sold goods on credit.

It should teach the youth of our great broad land what glorious
possibilities may lie concealed in the rough and tough bosom of the
reluctant present. It shows how steady perseverance and a good appetite
will always win in the end. It teaches us that wealth is not
indispensable, and that if we live as we should, draw out of politics at
the proper time, and die a few days before the public absolutely demand
it, the matter of our birthplace will not be considered.

Still, my birthplace is all right as a birthplace. It was a good, quiet
place in which to be born. All the old neighbors said that Shirley was a
very quiet place up to the time I was born there, and when I took my
parents by the hand and gently led them away in the spring of '53,
saying, "Parents, this is no place for us," it again became quiet.

It is the only birthplace I have, however, and I hope that all the
readers of this sketch will feel perfectly free to go there any time and
visit it and carry their dinner as I did. Extravagant cordiality and
overflowing hospitality have always kept my birthplace back.

[Illustration: Never Talk Back.]

Never talk back! sich things is ripperhensible;
feller only "corks" hisse'f that jaws a man that's hot;
In a quarrel, of you'll only keep your mouth shet and act sensible,
The man that does the talkin'll git worsted every shot!

Never talk back to a feller that's abusin' you--
Jest let him carry on, and rip, and cuss and swear;
And when he finds his lyin' and his dammin's jest amusin' you,
You've gut him clean kaflummixed