Postal Riders and Raiders

Postal Riders and Raiders

W. H. Gantz

5.0
Comment(s)
4
View
15
Chapters

The mud-sills of this book are hewn from the presupposition that the person who reads it has not only the essentially necessary equipment to do his own thinking, but also a more or less practiced habit of doing it. It is upon such foundation the superstructure of this volume was built. It is written in the hope of promoting, or provoking, thought on certain subjects, along certain lines—not to create or school thinkers.

Postal Riders and Raiders FOREWORD TO THE READER

The mud-sills of this book are hewn from the presupposition that the person who reads it has not only the essentially necessary equipment to do his own thinking, but also a more or less practiced habit of doing it. It is upon such foundation the superstructure of this volume was built. It is written in the hope of promoting, or provoking, thought on certain subjects, along certain lines-not to create or school thinkers.

So, if the reader lacks the necessary cranial furnishing to do his own thinking, or, if having that, he has a cultivated habit of letting other people do his hard thinking and an ingrown desire to let them continue doing so, such reader may as well stop at this period. In fact, he would better do so. The man who has his thinking done by proxy is possibly as happy and comfortable on a siding as he would be anywhere-as he is capable of being. I have no desire to disturb his state or condition of static felicity. Besides, such a man might "run wild" or otherwise interfere with the traffic if switched onto the main line.

Emerson has somewheres said, "Beware when God turns a thinker loose in the world." Of course Emerson cautioned about constructive and fighting thinkers, not thinkers who think they know because somebody told them so, or who think they have thought till they know all about some unknowable thing-the ratio of the diameter to the circumference of the circle, how to construct two hills without a valley between, to build a bunghole bigger than the barrel, and the like.

There are thinkers and thinkers. Emerson had the[6] distinction between them clearly in mind no doubt when he wrote that quoted warning. So, also, has the thinking reader. It is for him this volume is planned; to him its arguments and statements of fact are intended to appeal. Its chapters have been hurriedly written-some of them written under conditions of physical distress. The attempts at humor may be attempts only; the irony may be misplaced or misapplied; the spade-is-a-spade style may be blunt, harsh or even coarse to the point of offensiveness. Still, if its reading provokes or otherwise induces thought, the purpose of its writing, at least in some degree, will have been attained. It is not asked that the reader agree with the conclusions of the text. If he read the facts stated and thinks-thinks for himself-he will reach right conclusions. The facts are of easy comprehension. It requires no superior academic knowledge nor experience of years to understand them and their significance-their lesson.

Just read and think. Do not let any "official" noise nor breakfast-food rhetoric so syncopate and segregate your thought as to derail it from the main line of facts. Lofty, persuasive eloquence is often but the attractive drapery of planned falsehood, and the beautifully rounded period is often but a "steer" for an ulterior motive-a "tout" for a marked-card game. Do not be a "come-on" for any verbal psychic work or worker. Just stubbornly persist in doing your own thinking, ever remembering that in this vale of tears, "Plain hoss sense'll pull you through when ther's nothin' else'll do."

As a thinker, you will now have lots of company, and they are still coming in droves. Respectable company, too. Mr. Roosevelt suddenly arrived a few days since at Columbus, Ohio. Then there is Mr. Carnegie and Judge[7] Gary. The senior Mr. Rockefeller, also, has announced, through a representative, that he is on the way. These latter, of course, have been thinkers for many years-thinkers on personal service lines chiefly, it has been numerously asserted. Now, however, if press accounts are true, they have begun to think, a little at least, about the general welfare, about the common good-about the other fellow.

Whether this change in mental effort and direction, if change it be, has followed upon a more careful study of conditions which have so long, so wastefully, or ruthlessly and viciously governed, or results from the fact that the advancing years have brought these gentlemen so near Jericho that they see a gleam of the clearer light and occasionally hear the "rustle of a wing," I do not know. Nor need one know nor care. That they come to join the rapidly-growing company of thinkers is sufficient.

Chicago, March 1, 1912.

Continue Reading

You'll also like

Betrayed Bride: Claimed By The Brother

Betrayed Bride: Claimed By The Brother

Reilly Mcardle
5.0

I arrived at the hotel with Julian's favorite takeout, ready to surprise my fiancé before our big merger. But the moment I swiped the keycard, the silence of the hallway felt heavy and wrong. Inside, a red-soled stiletto lay on the marble floor-the same one I'd watched my best friend Lila try on at Saks last week. Through the cracked bedroom door, I watched Julian's back arch as Lila looked me straight in the eye and smiled, wrapping her legs tighter around him to mock my heartbreak. I fled to the penthouse to hide, only to find Grafton, Julian's "crippled" brother, waiting in the dark. To my horror, the man who was supposed to be paralyzed stood up from his wheelchair, gripped my chin with cold fingers, and forced me to sign a contract that gave him control of my family's shares. He knew about my mother's secret medical bills and used them to buy my silence, effectively turning my life into a calculated game of corporate chess. The betrayal tasted like acid, and the injustice of it all burned in my throat. My fiancé was a liar, my best friend was a thief, and the man now controlling my fate was a predator who had been faking his disability for years. I couldn't understand how everyone I trusted had turned out to be a monster. I was trapped between a man who cheated on me and a man who wanted to own me, with no way out and no one to turn to. But when Julian came looking for me, Grafton didn't hide; he stood tall, looming over me with a possessive glint in his eyes. "Help me destroy Julian," I rasped, realizing that to survive the Faulkner men, I had to become the most dangerous player of them all.

The Mute Bride Is The Secret Mastermind

The Mute Bride Is The Secret Mastermind

Jin Yi
5.0

I was the titan of Wall Street until an indictment and an ankle monitor turned my penthouse into a gilded cage. To save face, I was forced into a marriage with Elza, a "mute" girl from the Schmidt family whom I treated as nothing more than a silent piece of furniture while my empire crumbled. The night I was poisoned at a high-society gala, a mysterious server in an oversized uniform saved my life with terrifying, clinical precision. They disappeared into the night, leaving me with a silver cufflink and a burning obsession to find the shadow who held my life in their hands. Back home, I took my frustration out on Elza, telling her she was "exhausting to look at" and "smelled like sickness" after her charity visits. Her own family treated her like a stray dog, trying to humiliate her at the next gala by dressing her in what they claimed was a cheap knockoff while whispering to the press that she was nothing but a high-end escort. "Stay out of my way," I would growl at her, never noticing the steel in her eyes. I sat at my table, watching my rivals' stocks plummet and wondering who "The Zero"—the legendary financial ghost—really was. I never suspected that the woman I ignored was the same one solving the equations that were currently burning Manhattan to the ground. The injustice peaked when Elza stood before the city's elite, not as a victim, but as a queen. She dropped over a hundred million dollars to buy back her family’s legacy, revealing a secret fortune that made my own empire look like pocket change. As I grabbed her wrist and saw the small red mole hidden beneath her watch, the truth hit me like a physical blow. The silent wife I had despised was the savior I had been hunting, and she was finally done playing the victim. "We have a lot to talk about, wife," I whispered, realizing I had been sleeping next to the most dangerous woman in the world.

Flash Marriage To My Best Friend's Father

Flash Marriage To My Best Friend's Father

Madel Cerda
4.6

I was once the heiress to the Solomon empire, but after it crumbled, I became the "charity case" ward of the wealthy Hyde family. For years, I lived in their shadows, clinging to the promise that Anson Hyde would always be my protector. That promise shattered when Anson walked into the ballroom with Claudine Chapman on his arm. Claudine was the girl who had spent years making my life a living hell, and now Anson was announcing their engagement to the world. The humiliation was instant. Guests sneered at my cheap dress, and a waiter intentionally sloshed champagne over me, knowing I was a nobody. Anson didn't even look my way; he was too busy whispering possessively to his new fiancée. I was a ghost in my own home, watching my protector celebrate with my tormentor. The betrayal burned. I realized I wasn't a ward; I was a pawn Anson had kept on a shelf until he found a better trade. I had no money, no allies, and a legal trust fund that Anson controlled with a flick of his wrist. Fleeing to the library, I stumbled into Dallas Koch—a titan of industry and my best friend’s father. He was a wall of cold, absolute power that even the Hydes feared. "Marry me," I blurted out, desperate to find a shield Anson couldn't climb. Dallas didn't laugh. He pulled out a marriage agreement and a heavy fountain pen. "Sign," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "But if you walk out that door with me, you never go back." I signed my name, trading my life for the only man dangerous enough to keep me safe.

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book