Democratic Sentinel, Volume 22, Number 35, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 10 September 1898 — PROVERBIAL PHILOSOPHY. [ARTICLE]

PROVERBIAL PHILOSOPHY.

As Exemplified in the Genial Custom* of a West Virginia Hotel. “‘A burnt child dreads the fire;’ ‘a soused child dreads the Water;’ ‘once burned, twice shy;’ these are three proverbial ways of saying that one finger is enough to lose in learning that a buzz saw may be moving, though It seems to be standing still. There are more ways than there are proverbs of exemplifying the inherent truth of these proverbs; and each way is Interesting, if not immediately, yet in the long run—and the run is not necessarily so long. “Down at H ,W. Va.,” said the man who knew about proverbs, “there is a hotel. This is not strange to you; but probably you haven’t been in H . I have been there. By way of digression, let me remark that in all these small country towns of Virginia and its co-partner States it is astonishing how easy it is to arrive and how hard it is to depart. At whatever hour you may have arrived, you are certain to take the train after midnight and before 6 o’clock. This arrangement effectually spoils the night for sleeping purposes or for amusement. But then, there is no amusement.

“To resume, I reached H at some seasonable hour and put up at the hotel, did what I had to do, and as I had been up most of the preceding night turned in about 9 o’clock, leaving word at the office to be called at 1 o’clock, as the train left shortly before 2 o’clock. “In time I was called, so I dressed quickly, paid my bill, seized my bag, and hurried to the ‘depot,’ about a block away. Half along the block I happened to look at the hotel, and saw that every lamp in it was out, and the house was as dark as pitch. “At the station I found a policeman, who seemed please to see me. “ ‘How soon is the train due?’ I asked, by way of opening a short conversation. “ ‘ ’Bout a hour and a half,’ said he, pleasantly. “ ‘What!’l yelled. Then I looked at my watch. It was just 12:30. "The policeman watched with judicial amusement while I made certain remarks about the hotel people. When I ended—l took my time—he said: “ ‘Well, now, things strike people differently, don’t they? ’Bout a month ago there was a feller down t’ the hotel—had two bags, a regular drummer. He left word, same's you, to be called for the train, an’ then turned in. But they forgot him—didn’t call him till after 2; train on time that night, too. “ ‘We-ell, when they remembered, they was in a feeze. First of all the clerk—smart chap, that clerk; guess hotel clerks hez to be smart—the clerk he set the clocks back; made ’em seein to be about 1 o’clock stead of after 2. Then he called the drummer. The drummer he dressed quick, paid his bill, same’s you, grabbed his two grips, one ’n each hand, and hurried over here. I was here—just as I am to-night, and carefully, so’s not to excite him too much too quick, I let him know that he was an hour behind the train, and that he’d have to wait another twelve hours or so. Jest as I let you know—on’y for a difference o’ time. “ ‘We-ell! What’s that drummer do but pick up his grips—one ’n each hand, walk back to the hotel, and goln’ up to the window of the office pitch them two grips right through the glass—smash! The first one hit the clerk, knocked him down; second one lit on his head as he lay there. “Guess I’m even on the game,” said the drummer. “ ‘Since then—’bout month ago—they’ve called ev’y one a hour ahead o’ the train, and they put the lights out, soon’s a fellow feaves the hotel—matter o’ precaution, you know.’ “That’s why I started with a proverb.”