Galveston Tribune. (Galveston, Tex.), Vol. 37, No. 156, Ed. 1 Saturday, May 26, 1917 Page: 4 of 12
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1:
GALVESTON TRIBUNE.'
FOUR.
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6
TFT F PHANR G Business Office and Adv. Dept. 83, Circulation Dept 1386
1 ELer -.VNF9 Editorial Rooms 49 and 1396, Society Editor 2524s
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1
A
AS TO PENSIONS.
“You
3
CHAPTER III.
Overheard at Fort Slocum.
Cement?”
the
SANCTUM SIFTINGS
V
si
and
or-
not work on the farm all day.
Bt-
d
I
-A
MB
I must
manu-
German submarine commanders must
be getting good; they have not sunk
a hospital ship in two weeks.
I
I
don’t yer? (
brusquely.
“Of course,
Germany’s plan of seeking to sup-
press her aims of annexation with re-
gard to Belgium by keeping discussion
of the subject out of the newspapers
is about as effective a concealment as
the ostrich’s sticking his head in the
sand.
“Twinkle, twinkle, diamond pin,
Like a pretty star,
Then I’m sure that Billy Bunny
Will see where you are.”
“Drop that tie, you horrid bat,
Or I’ll take away your hat.
Don’t you take that diamond pin,
give up my mornings
script reading.
“Well,” thought I,
med there was all the litter to clear
out, and the stubs to be pained, and
cement work to be done.
“Good gracious!” thought I, “if I do
all that, when will I plant, when will
I make my lawn?”
Were you ever lost in the woods, so
that you suddenly felt a mad desire to
rush blindly in every direction, help-
/
I wanted to do the work myself,
there was so much to do!
(To Be Continueca .
Proficient. •
Visitor—I suppose, Willie, that you
can spell all the short words?
Willie (who hears much talk about
automobiles)—Yes, I can spell words of
four cylinders/—New York Times.
WORTH TRYING.
Did you say you have a trouble?
If you wish to make it double,
Would your soul forget-its trouble,
Make it vanish like a bubble?
Then you put that little trouble in a
closet out of sight.
Bid it stay there all unheeded.
Say its presence is not needed,
Just you tell it to your neighbor in a
confidential way.
Spread it out where folks can know it,
Let your face and actions show it;
Do not let a soul forget it from the
dawn till close 'of day.
New York Office, 171 Madison Ave.
D. J. Randall.
“Any old rags, any old tags,
Any old clothes for sale?
Any old thing from a shoe to a ring,
An elephant trunk or a little tin pail.”
“The garbage man, whose wise, effi-
cient plan
Is daily to remove my garbage can,
Would pass me by, all coldness and
neglect.
If he should catch me voting like a
man.
1
Or don’t yer?” he said,
new double-edged pruning saw
sawed till both arms ached.
As I worked I thought how this
XBillyDunnyandHiskriends5
G/Davi Con/__________
How would you like to be the man
who had a job of spending ten.billion
dollars a year?
late to need
hoe, Bert had
on this trip,
and furniture
EnsGheDILO
#—c28
a CCS
B LBE
Chicago, St, Louis and Detroit Offices,
The S. C. Beckwith Agency.
GALVESTON TRIBUNE
-================= ESTABLISHED 1880 ===========-
Published Evenings Except Sunday at the Tribune Building.
Member Associated Press and American Newspaper Publishers’ Association.
Entered at the Postoffice in Galveston as Second-Class Mail Matter.
I got down and came out to
to my
It would be interesting to know just
how much the amiable treatment he
received in the land of the free and
the home of the brave had to do with
the untimely death of Les Darcy.
TR PRICHARD
0
A Good Prescription.
A Neighbor—And what did the doctor
say?
bld Man—‛E said no more medicine,
but if ye take a little walk of a marn-
in’ on the common and get the air,
mebbe you’ll live to be a oxygenarian.
—Punch.
One great service is going to be per-
formed by national registration , on
Sentry on Post No. 1 (at 11:30 p. m.)
—Halt! Who’s there?
Figure in darkness—Officer of the
day.
Sentry—Well, what in heck are you
dping around at this time of night?—
Philadelphia Evening Ledger.
Now send the German prisoners to
Canada to grow grain and potatoes—:
we need labor in this country—Florida.
Times-Union.
of, course!” I amended
“How about it, Hard?
said Bert.
Hard Cider nodded to
gah,/ wan.
e—---aa- C--7 ■ :—
No sooner does a flotilla of Ameri-
can destroyers arrive in European wa-
ters than the submarine blockade be-
gins to loosen up. We are not prone to
bragging, but it certainly is a remark-
able coincidence.
soon as the orchard is finished.”
As soon as the orchard was finished!
I. stood amid the litter I had made on
the ground and reflected. I had com-
pleted the preliminary trimming of
one row and part of a second.. There
were still over two rows and a half to
do. And the worst trees were in those
rows at that. After they .were trim-
AMERICA MEANS BUSINESS.
Beaumont Enterprise.
The sending of a force of Americans
to the battle front will hearten the
people, and the soldiers of the nations
with whom we are allied. They will
perceive that America means business
and stands ready to make her share
of the sacrifices necessary to bring
about peace. OUr own people, too, will
be made to realize how near they are
to the war, and will soon be given to
understand that our part is not that of
a spectator; that we, too, must suffer
that our young men must die if we
would keep the nation free for our-
selves and our children.
Uplift in Russia.
Percy, the janitor, suggests that a
few dark-skinned gen’mans from the
South, armed with razors, could do a
lot of uplifting in that Russian council
of soldiers and deputies;—-Dallas Times-
Herald.
Then you start to work at some-
thing that requires mind and
might.
The British food dictator’s statement
that nine people out of ten are digging
their graves with their teeth includes
those who are constantly chewing the
rag, as well as those who overeat.—
Kansas City Journal.
It is to be hoped that the frugality
pledges signed up in England the other
day will be more effective than total
abstinence pledges are in America. If
they are not, they won’t be worth
much.
A few more attempted bank rob-
beries in Oklahoma resulting like that
of Wednesday and there will be fewer
Oklahoma youths taking up bank and
train robbery as a road to fame.
chard must be trimmed and cleaned
up first, but how the fine planting
weather was upon us, too, and I ought
to be getting my garden seeds in, if I
was to have any flowers. I thought
also of all my manuscripts to be read.
A nervous fit seized me and I worked
frantically.
That night I managed to keep awake
till eleven, and got some work done.
I also rose at a compromise hour of
six in the morning, and worked an-
other hour, almost catching up with
what should have been my daily stint.
But I realized that hereafter I could
“Is your wife economical?” “Very.
Look at the clothes that she makes me
wear.”—Detroit Free Prss.
“Did you hear that?” said Uncle
Lucky in a whisper, as the. Nightingale
stopped singing. You remember in the
last story that Uncle Lucky and Billy
Bunny were hunting for the diamond
pin which the old gentleman rabbit
had forgotten to take out of the auto-
mobile. It was in the middle of the
night, too, you know, so it wasn’t an
easy thing 'to do. Then the Nightin-
gale began to sing again:,
Joy in an Old Orchard.
The following morning was a balmy
and exquisite first of May and Bert
hustled me off immediately after
breakfast to meet Hard Cider How-
ard, whom, by some rural wireless, he
had already summoned.
As we walked down the road, I
glanced toward my lone pine, and saw
my horse and Mike’s hitched to the
plow, with Joe driving and Mike hold-
ing the handles. Across the green pas-
ture, between the road and the hay-
field, already four rich brown furrows
were shining up to the sun.
At the house we found awaiting a
strange-looking man, small, wrinkled,
unkempt, with a discouraged mustache
and a nose of a decidedly brighter hue
than the rest of his countenance. He
was tapping at the sills of the house.
Timely Thoughts.
Falsehood may have its hour, but it
has not the future.—De Pressense.
help on the farm,” Bet added with a
grin.
“I don’t suppose you know of just
such a combination?”
“Reckon I dew. You leave it to my
old lady.”
“Mr. Temple, said I, “seems to me
I’m leaving everything to you.”
“Wal; neow, yer might do a heap
sight worse!” said Bert.
I went up to my chamber when we
got back, and sat down beside my
little glass lamp and did some figuring.
Added to my alleged salary as a man-
uscript reader, along . with what I
hoped I could pick up writing, I reck-
lessly calculated my-annual income as
a possible $3,000. Out of this I sub-
tracted $600 for Mike’s wages, $360
, for the housekeeper, $400 for additional
labor, $75 for taxes, and $500 for addi-
tions to my “plant,” as I began to call
my farm.
Then it occurred to me that I ought,
of course, to sell my farm produce for
a handsome profit. Bert had gone to
bed, so I couldn’t ask him how much
I would be likely to realize. But with
all due conservatism I decided that I
could safely join the golf club. So I
did, then and there. Whereupon I felt
better, and, picking out the manuscript
of a novel from my bag, I went brave-
ly at the task of earning my living.
True Loyalty.
The best patriotic parade would' be
up and down the furrowed fields of the
lowly bean patch and the most appro-
priate flag raising would be to deco-
rate your toil-moistened brow with a
red bandana.—Hamilton Record.
them now. The horse
not ben able to bring
Next we got my books
into the house or shed,
•2.eup ■■
N
cOPyRIOHT Le1ooveLEDAY, AAG€ • CO. 1
“The, courteous policeman on my beat.
Who always helps me cross the
crowded street,
Had I the ballot—as I understand—
Would throw me underneath the
horses’ feet.
The resumption of the Italian offen-
sive is quite as encouraging news as
were the dispatches chronicling the
beginning of spring operations. The
Italians have gone a long way to-
ward realizing the first goal of their
ambitions—the capture of Trieste.
Gen. Cadorna’s troops are now said to
be less than ten miles from this im-
portant Austrian ■ seaport and trade
terminal. The loss of Trieste would
be the greatest blow Austria has yet
sustained. Since it is Italy’s avowed
intention to take and hold both Trieste
and Trent—the principal cities of Italia
irredenta—'the steady advance of the
Italians upon these places is all the
more significant. A few more blows
such as that struck Wednesday and
Trieste will be within the grasp, of
Italy.
' 113/#2i?
Granted.
The feminist asks,a hearing for Alice
Duer Miller in the following lines,
which she thinks are both poetry and
persiflage:
“But one there-is who will not change,
I know,
However far astray we women go,
Who questions not of woman’s
sphere or charm—
The tax collector never answers no.”
Stealing is a dreadful sin.” '
And of course the bat was so fright-
ened that he dropped the cravat in the
grass and flew away as fast as he
could.
■ Well, after all this excitement, Billy
Bunny couldn’t go to sleep again, so
he and Uncle Lucky got dressed and
played the graphophone all the rest of
the night and when morning came they
were so sleepy that they fell asleep and
never woke up until afternoon, when
they had their breakfast, and after that
they felt much better.
"I-think some fresh air will do us
both good,” said kind Uncle Lucky,
and he got out the automobile. And
after they had gone a mile or so they
came across a little old hen picking
up rags and scraps of iron which she
put into her little two-wheeled cart.
And the bells on it made such a noise
that people came out of their houses
and gave her old rags and bottles and
kitchen stoves and iron beds, and, let
me see, what else? Well, everything
they didn’t want.
And all the time she kept singing
this song:
me, with a
Nation of Hustlers.
“When America gets into the world
waf things will happen,” said Editor
George H. Lorimer at a dinner in Phil-
adelphia. “America invented the sub-
marine boat, the machine gun and the
airplane, and when she gets busy war-
making the spectacle will be very re-
markable.
“I don’t want to brag, but the other
combatants in America’s presence will
be like the young fellow who got the
job of private secretary to a multimil-
lionaire. .
“The first morning of his new job
the secretary showed up at 9 o’clock
and found the multimillionaire already
hard at work. ' The second morning he
showed up at 8 o’clock, and there was
the multimillionaire with half his mail
cleared away. So the third morning he
showed up at 7 o’clock, and. there was
the multimillionaire, who looked up
from his desk and said, dryly:
“ ‘Young fellow, what do you do. with
your forenoons?’”—Washington Star.
road. “Your’e a fine man and a true
friend, Mr. Temple,” said I, “but I’m
going to be the doctor for this orchard.
A chap’s got to have some say for
himself, you know.”
“Well, they ain’t much good, any-
how, them trees,” said Bert cheer-
fully.
We now fell to unloading the wagon.
We opened up the woodsheds and
storehouse behind the kitchen, stowed
in the barrels of seed potatoes, the
fertilizers, the various other seeds, the
farm implements, sprayers, and so on.
The hotbed frames and sashes were
put away for future use, as it was too
must hev come from Essex or Middle-
sex counties,” she said, “if you’ve et
brown bread Joes before.” -
After supper Bert took me in hand.
“First thing fer you to do’s to git a
farmer and carpenter,” he said. “I
kin git yer both, if yer want I should,
an’ not sting yer. Most noo folks tret
come here gits stung. Seems like Bent-
ford thinks thet's why they come!”
“I’m clay in your hands,” said I.
“Wall, yer don’t exactly know me
intimately,” said Bert with a laugh,
“so yerd’d better git a bit o’ granite
into yer system. Neow, ez to a farmer
—there’s Mike Finn. He lives ’bout
a quarter of a mile from your corner.
He’ll come an’ his son’ll help out with
the heavy work. We’ll walk deown
an’ see him neow, ef yer like.”
I liked,' and in the soft, spring eve-
ning we set off down the road.
“Wal, then, ez to carpenters,” Bert
went on, “thar’s good carpenters, an’
bad carpenters, an’ Hard Cider How-
ard. Hard Cider’s fergotten more
and calico-covered bosom.
keen glance from his little, bloodshot
eyes.
“Yep,” he said. “Stucco over it.
Brick underpinnin’s be ez good ez noo.
Go inside.”
We stepped upon the side porch,
Bert handing me the key and I open-
ing the door of my new dwelling with
a secret thrill. Hard Cider at once
began on the kitchen floor, ripping up
a plank to examine the timbers be-
neath.
We crossed the hall to the south
side, where there were two corre-
sponding rooms. Here, as on the other
side, the chimney and fireplaces were
on the inside walls, and the mantels
were of a simple but very good colo-
nial pattern, though they had been
browned by smoke and time to a dirt
color.
‘.‘Now I want these two rooms made
into one,” said I. “I want one of the
doors into the hall closed up, and a
glass door cut out of the south side
to a pergola veranda. Can you do it?”
Hard, examined, the partition. He
climbed on a box which we dragged in,
and ripped away plaster and wood-
work ruthlessly, both at the top and
at places on the sides, all without
speaking a word.
“Yep,” he said finally, “ef yer don’t
mind a big cross-beam showin’. She’s
solid oak. Yer door, though, ’ll have
to be double, with a beam in the mid-
dle.”
“Fine!” I crid. “One to go in by,
one to go out. Guests please keep to
the right!”
“Hex ter alter yer chimney,” he
added, “or yer'll hev two fireplaces.”
“Fine again!’ cried I. “A long room
with two fireplaces, and a double-
faced bookcase coming out at right
angles between them, with two set-
tles below it, one for each fireplace!
Better than. I’d dreamed!”
“Suit yerself," said Hard.
My front doorway had once been a
thing of beauty, with two little panel
windows at the sides, and above all,
on the outside, a heavy, hand-carved
broken pediment, like the top of a
Governor Winthrop high-boy. Hard
looked at it with admiration gleam-
ing in his eyes. “I’d ruther restore
this than all the rest o’ the job,” he
said, and his ugly, rum-soaked little
'face positively shone with enthusi-
asm.
“Go ahead,” said I, “only I want the
new steps of brick, widely spaced,
with a lot of cement showing be-
tween. I’m going to terrace it here in
front, too—-a grass terrace for ten
feet out.”
“Thet’s right, thet’s right!” he ex-
claimed. “Now I’ll go order the lumber
an’ bring yer the estimate termor-
rer‛
“Seems to me the usual proceeding
would be the other way around,” I
gasped.
“Well, yer want me ter do the job,
and, tired, hot and dirty, we drove
on up the road for dinner. As we
passed the upper field I saw that the
plowing was nearly done. The brown
furrows had already lost their gloss,
as my hands had already lost their
whiteness.
“Well, I’m a farmer now!” said I,
surveying! my soil-caked boots and
grimy clothes.
“Yer on !yer way, anyhow,” said
Bert. “But yer’ll have ter cultivate
thet field hard, seein’s how it oughter
hev been plowed last fall.”
That afternoon I went back to my
orchard, got out my shiny and sharp
Poetry and Persiflage
t
I
WILD FOOD.
It has been deemed worth while in
England to start a systematic teach-
ing of the people to utilize the “wild
food” of the country—the food, that
is, which “nature” distributes through
woods and fields without any help
from human work or design. The idea
is at least interesting, and no doubt
there exists in1 any countryside not
a few safely edible things, the value
of which is ignred in ordinary times
merely because better, more abundant,
or more convenient sources of supply
have been devised.
The experience of the ages has fixed
our attention on a few of the best
Stores of nutriment, simply because
they are the best, and most of us have
come, if not to believe that there are
no others, at least to act as if there
were none. As the English reformers
say, there are numberless plants be-
sides those under cultivation in any
of the several ways, andthough there
isn’t much sustenance in mushrooms,
the few sorts commonly eaten are not
at all superior to dozens of kinds that
are known by the real mycologists to
be safe.
The world of fishes is not half ex-
ploited, and that of the land animals
could, well stand more than it gets.
Almost every nation, too, eats a few
things that are ignored in other lands.
Our frogs, for instance, are quite as
good as those of France, and though
horses can hardly be called “wild food”
they have not yet begun to come—
openly—to American tables.
To anyone familiar with what sac-
rifices the people of Carthage sus-
tained rather than submit to the Ro-
mans, the privations which are being
borne by the populations of belliger-
ent Europe are not especially remark-
able. A devoted and united people can
and will bear With appalling hardships
rather than yield to a foreign foe.1 The
Berlin Vorwaerts has been one of the
most consistent and fearless advo-
cates of internal reforms in Germany
and of a very liberal peace program.
The Vorwaerts has been regarded in
this country as the mouthpiece of the
German people with which our gov-
ernment, admittedly, has no quarrel.
As a result of Premier Ribot’s speech
to the French parliament, insisting
upon the imposition of indemnities as
a part of the allies’ peace terms, the
Vorwaerts is quoted as saying the
German people would prefer another
three years of war to such an ending.
There can be no doubt but what
France and Belgium ought to be in-
demnified for the wrongs they have
suffered, but.in view of the Russian
utterances upon this subject, there
would appear to be a difference of
opinion as to the desirability of pro-
longing the war until they can be en-
forced.
“I’ll do it—as
-
And it. turned out just as she sang,
for in a few minutes the little rabbit
saw a tiny sparkling light in the grass
and there was the red cravat with-the
diamond, pin in it.
But of course neither- he nor Uncle
Lucky ever knew how it got there, but
they were so happy at finding it they
really didn’t care. But, just the same,
I’m going to tell you, for the nightin-
gale told me, and I was awful curious
before she did.
A bat who lived in a church steeple
near by had seen the diamond pin, and
wanted to wear it, so he flew into the
garage and untied the red cravat, but
just as he was carrying it away with
him, the nightingale, who was sitting
up in the tree, cried out:
That was a splendid introduction for
the newly elected board of city com-
' missioners, suggested by the new may-
or-president, to provide a fund for
the pensioning of municipal employees
who have spent a considerable portion
of their lives in the service of the city.
The suggestion, whether or not it ever
‛reaches the stage of actual incorpora-
tion in our practice, speaks well of the
s disposition of those at the head of our
community affairs and indicates that
there is a strong, sense of justice ani-
, mating the minds of those whom the
people have called to the management
of their public affairs for the next two
years.
The p’ension idea is growing by leaps
' and bounds, and although it may be
somewhat tardy in being incorporated
; in our local practices, it nevertheless
- indicates that a majority of the people
of the country are willing to be just to
I their followers if they are brought
Lface to face with actual conditions.
The very fact that the suggestion has
been brought to the attention of the
people at a time when their minds are
occupied with matters of great nation-
° al moment may be taken to signify
- that there is a disposition to be just,
regardless of the time or the circum-
stances. •
The national government in provid-
ing pensions for those who risked their
lives or sustained injuries in the de-
fense of the nation gave proper recog-
nition of a service greater than could
be acknowledged by money, and the
more recent recognition of the services
rendered in civil employment means
that we are now realizing that any
person who renders faithful service to
the nation, the state, the municipality
or the corporation, is to be considered
as having contributed to the success
of the service in which engaged, and
therefore justly entitled to some rec-
ognition when the years shall have de-
prived him or her of their one-time
ability.
And this brings us to the belief that
while the pensioning of certain mem-
bers of the civic employment as has
been outlined by the new mayor-presi-
dent is to be generally commended, we
should not overlook another class of
public servants who have contributed
as much if not more 'to the progress
of the city than have those who have
protected us against the lawless and
safeguarded us against the perils of
fire. Surely the school teachers of Gal-
veston have earned a place on any pen-
sion list that may be contemplated by
the heads of our city government, and
whether this class be incorporated in
the limits of the proposed scheme or
not, does not in the least detract from
the justice of the claim. If this sug-
gestion cannot be incorporated in the
one now under consideration, then the
school board should take it up and
present for the approval of the people
some plan by which these faithful and
uncomplaining ones may be accorded
the consideration they have not asked
but have fairly and justly earned.
A few years ago the Philadelphia
Bulletin printed the following tribute
to the school teacher, the vein of hu-
mor running through the article mak-
ing the truth the more apparent. It
presents some features that may have
passed unnoticed by the unthinking. It
is worth perusal: “A school teacher is
a person who teaches things to people
when they are young. The teacher
comes to school at 8:30 o’clock, and
when she has gotten enough children
for a mess in her room, she teaches
them reading, writing, geography,
grammar, arithmetic, music, drawing,
cooking, board sawing, crocheting,
deep breathing, bird calls, scientific
eating, patriotism, plain and fancy
bathing, forestry, civics and other sci-
ences too numerous to mention. When
school is out she stays behind with
five or six of her worst scholars and
tries to save the state the job of re-
forming them later on. - After that she
hurries home to make herself a new
dress and snatch a hasty supper be-
fore going to attend a lecture by an
imported specialist on the history of
tribal law in Patagonia, which the su-
perintendent thinks may give her some
information which may be useful in
her school work some day. A grat
many lecturers roam this country prey-
ing on school teachers and some of
them are very cruel, talking to them
so long that the poor things have to
sit up until morning, when they get
hqme, to get their daily test papers
corrected.
“School teachers’ salaries range from
$30 a month and up—-but not far
enough up to make them dizzy. On
her salary the teacher must dress nice-
ly, buy herself things for her work
which the city is too poor to get, go to
twenty-nine lectures and concerts a
year, buy helpful books on pedagogy,
pay her way to district, county and
state institutes, and enjoy herself dur-
ing a three months’ vacation, which her
salary takes every year. In addition,
the teacher is supposed.to hoard away
vast sums of money, so that when she
becomes too nervous and cgoss to teach,
at the age of 50 or thereabouts, she can
retire and live happily ever after on
her income.” , . ■ \
less, bewildered, with a horrid sensa-
tion that your heart has gone down
somewhere into your abdomen? That
is the way I suddenly felt toward my
farm. I couldn’t afford to employ
more labor. Besides, I didn’t want to.
SUBSCRIPTION RATES weXk,aotprporMaintR,ostg‛perePed,P.
Set yourself to work for others,
For your struggling, burdened .broth-
ers.
You will find so many burdens
heavier than the one you bear,
That your trifling little trouble
Soon will vanish like a bubble,
And your very self, my brother, will
forget ’twas ever there.
—Mabel Brown Denison, in Farm and
Home.
eaten such a supper since grandmother
died. There were brown bread Joes—•
only rival of Rhode Island Johnnycake
for the title- of the lost ambrosia of
Olympus. They were so hot that the
butter melted over them instantly, and
crisp outside, with delicious, runny in-
sides;
“Mrs. Temple,” said I, “I haven’t
eaen brown bread Joes since I was a
boy. I didn’t know the secret existed
any more.”
Mrs. Temple beamed over her ample
i
i June 5, in addition to the obvious fact
of enrolling the man-power of the na-
tion. It is going to bring home to
every family in the United States, the,
idea that the American government is
something more than a name, some-
thing more than a detached organiza-
tion, something more than a remote
power which looks after the interests
and welfare of American citizens but
about which the citizen himself has no
personal responsibility. American
statesmen have repeatedly alluded to
the need of some way of making the
American citizen take more interest in
affairs at Washington, some way of
making him feel that he has a direct,
personal interest in the American gov-
ernment. Compulsory voting has been
suggested, a nominal poll tax has also
ben put forth. But it is doubtful if
any scheme quite so effective as regis-
tration involving the possibility of
universal military obligation could be
provided.
SATURDAY, MAY 26, 1817. " / 1
that I’ve just remembered I forgot to
include any painters’ bills in my own
estimate.”
Bert looked at me in a kind .of
speechless pity for a moment. Then
he said slowly: “Wal, I’ll be swizzled!
Wait till I tell maw! An’ her always
sticki’ up fer a college education!”
"Just for that, I’ll show you!” cried
I. “I never trimmed an apple tree in
my life, but I’m going to work on this
orchard, and I’m going to save it, all
myself. It will be better than yours
in three years.”
“Go to it,” laughed Bert. “Come
back fer dinner, though. Neow, I’ll
drive over ter the depot an’ git yer
freight. They telephoned this morn-
in’ it had come.”
“Good!” I cried. “You might bring
me a bag of cement, too, and a gallon
of carbolic acid.”
“Ye ain’t tired o’ life so soon, be
yer?”
“No,” said I, “but I’m going to show
you rubes how to treat an orchard.”
Bert went off laughing, and pres-
ently I saw him driving toward town
with his heavy wagon. I walked up
to the plateau field to greet' Mike.. As
I crested the ridge the field lay before
me, the great, ipne pine standing sen-
tinel at the farther side, and half of it
was. frail, young green and half rich,
shining brown,
“She plows tough, sor,” said Mike,
as the panting horses paused for
breath; “but she’ll harrer down good.
Be the seed pertators come yit?”
“Bert has gone for them,” said I.
“Let me hold the plow once.”
“It ain’t so azy as it looks,” said
Mike.
“I’ll do it if I haven’t a rib left,”
said I grimly.
And I did it. My first full furrow
looked like the track of a snake under
the influence of liquor, but I reversed
the plow and came back fairly
straight. I was beginning to get the
hang of it. My next furrow was re-
spectable; but not deep. On this re-
turn trip the sweat was starting from
my forehead and the smell of the
horses and the warm,, fresh-turned
earth was strong in my nostrils. I
didn’t look at my pine. I was proud
at what I had done, and my muscles
gloried in the toil. Again I swung
the plow around, and drove it across
the field, feeling the reluctant grass
roots fighting every muscle of my
arms.
“There,” said I, triumphantly, “you
plow all the rest as deep as that!”
“Begobs, ye’z all right!” cried Mike.
I went back again down the slope
with all the joy of a small boy, .and
descended upon the orchard. I had a
couple of bulletins on pruning in my
pocket, with pictures of old trees re-
morselessly headed down. I took a
fresh look at the pictures, reread some
of the text where I had marked it,
and tackled the first tree, carefully re-
peating to myself: “Remove only a
third the first year, remove only a
third the first year.”
This, I decided quite naturally did
not refer to dead wood. By the time
I had the dead wood cut out of that
first old tree, and all the water sprouts
removed (as I recalled my grandfa-
ther used to call them), which didn’t
seem necessary for new bearing wood,
the poor thing began to look naked.
On on side an old water sprout or
sucker had achieved the dignity of a
limb and shot far into the air. I was
up in the tree carefully heading this
back and out when Bert came driving
by with his wagon heaped to over-
flowing.
“Hi!” he called, “yer tryin’ to kill
them trees entire?”
92
8922
/
The supper came first. I hadn’t
. Canada a Part of United States?
“All Belgian males depprted to find
industrial occupations in Germany.”
about carpent’rin’ then most o’ the rest
ever knoo, and he ain’t fergot much,
neither. But he ain’t handsome, and
he looks upon the apple juice when it’s
yaller. Maybe yer don’t mind looks,
an’ l kin keep Hard Cider sober while
he’s on your job. He’ll treat yep fair,
an’ see thet the plumbers do.”
We walked on, turned the corner at
my brook, and followed the other road
along past my pines till we came to a
small settlement of White cottages. At
one of these Bert knocked. We were
admitted by a pretty, blue-eyed Irish
girl, who had a copy of Caesar’s “Com-
mentaries” in her hand, into a tiny
parlor, where an “airtight” • stove
stood below a colored chromo of the
Virgin and Child, and a middle-aged
Irishman sat in his shirtsleeves, smok-
ing a pipe.
“Hello, Mike,” said Bert, “this is
Mr. John Upton, who’s bought Milt,
Noble’s place, an’ wants a farmer and
gardener. I told him you wuz the
man.’’ <
“Sit down, sor, sit down,” said Mike,
offering a chair with an expansive and
hospitable gesture. “Sure, let’s talk it
over.”
The pretty daughter had gone back
to her Caesar by the nickel oil lamp,
but she had one ear toward us, and I
caught a corner of her eye, too—an
extremely attractive, not to say provo-
cative eye.
“Well, now,” Mike was saying, “sure
I can run a farm, but what do I be
gettin’ fer it?”
“Fifty a month,” said I, “which in-
cludes milking the cowskand tending
furnace in winter.”
“Sure, I got more than that on me.
last place and no cows at all.”
“Ye’re a liar, Mike,” said Bert.
“That’s a fightin’ word in the ould
country,”; said Mike.
“This ain’t the old country, and yer
got forty-five dollars,” Bert grinned.
“Besides, ye’ll be close to yer work.
You wuz a mile an’ a half frum the
Sulloways. Thet makes up fer the
milkin.”
“True, true,". Mike replied, medita-. ;
tively. “But what be yer runnin’ the
place for, Mr. Upton? Is it a real
farmer ye’d be?”
“A real farmer,” I answered. “Why?”
“Well, I didn’t know. I’ve heard
say yer wuz a literary feller, too, Mr.
Upton, and I have me doubts.”
“Well, I’m sort of a literary fel-
low,” I confessed. “But it’s you I want
to be the real literary feller, Mike.
You must write me a poem -in the po-
tatoes.” ,
, Mike put back his head and roared.
“It’s a pome yer want, is it?” he cried.
“Sure, it’s an oration I’ll give ye. I’ll
grow ye the real home rule pertaters."
“Well,”, said I, rising, “do you be-
gin tomorrow morning, and will your
son help for a few weeks?”
“The mornin’ it is,” said Mike, “and
Joe .along.”
I paused by the side of the girl. “All
Gaul is divided into three parts,” I
laughed.
• 1 She looked up with a pretty- smile,
but Mike spoke: “Sure, but they give
all three parts to Nora,” he said, “so
what-was the use o’ dividin’ it? She
thinks she’s me mither instead o’ me
daughter!”
“I’ll put you to bed in a minute,”
said Nora, while Mike grinned proudly
at her.
“I’m going to like Mike,” said I to
Bert, as we walked back up the road.
“I knoo yer would soon ez ,I seen
yer,” Bert replied. . “The only folks
thet don’t like Mike is the .folks thet
can’t see a joke... Mike has a tolerable
number o’ dislikers.”
“Well, I’ve got my farmer,” said I,
"nd now I suppose I’ve got to find
a housekeeper, as soon as the house is
ready to live in. Nora would suit me.”
“I reckon she would, but she
wouldn’t suit Bentford.”
“In other words, I want an oldish,
woman, very plain, and preferably a
widow.”
. “With a young . son. /old . enough, ter
hastily. “Go ahead!”
Hard climbed into a broken-down
wagon and disappeared. “Don’t you
worry,” said Bert. “I’ll see that he
gtreats you right.”
. “It isn’t that/ I said sadly. “It’s
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Galveston Tribune. (Galveston, Tex.), Vol. 37, No. 156, Ed. 1 Saturday, May 26, 1917, newspaper, May 26, 1917; (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth1481708/m1/4/: accessed June 29, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Rosenberg Library.