Bluefield Evening Leader

THE MAN AT THE PLOW.

Just a thought in recognition of the fellow who seldom gets into the newspapers. He doesn't make much news. He knows mighty little about the "city ways" of making money. He has a fine liking for clean financial methods and a hearty scorn for all that is crooked. Perhaps it is his manner of living that makes him want to be honest.

Let that man see a problem play, one of those things that serve to satisfy the jaded appetites of metropolitan people, and you will find a splash of red on his tanned cheek and he will wonder how it is possible for women to be present.

Tell him about bribery and stock jobbing and franchise stealing, and a few of the thousand forms of gouging the public, and you will jar his faith in the natural goodness of humanity.

Just now this type of good American citizen is following a plow. It is hard work. It puts a big ache in the back and callous on the hands. It destroys the complexion. It calls for brown overalls and perspiration.

The man is happy in his work. He whistles as he trudges along in the furrow. He clucks to the horses and finds joy in the freedom of his life. He doesn't go into raptures over green fields and singing brooks and songs of birds. They are a part of his environment. They are routine, but he loves them just the same.

He has an enormous burden on his broad shoulders. He feeds the world. He is the brother of life itself. He toils long hours. His primary object in working is his own welfare. But he feeds the world, he makes existence possible. He is the head of the procession in which are marching the doctor, the lawyer, the banker, the idler. He is the fountain head of wealth and prosperity. He is the creditor of humanity.

It is well to remember with gratefulness this man in overalls, who follows the plow and whistles as the brown earth reveals its richness and prepares to bring forth the fruits of the fields.