THE SUNDAY OREGOXIAN. PORTLAND, OCTOBER 27, 1907.
9
CROSS THE
DESERT
XO. II.
I
N OKLAHOMA, we were stalled for a
day In a. town called Shawnee. The
supply on our diner grave out and at
this town we 'had our first experience
with local restaurants. We went to
the "New England Home Restaurant,"
so-called. We didn't dare sit down, for
fear we'd never get loose again. The
sandwiches were mr.de of bread at
least two and a half Inches thick, with
a piece of cold fried beefsteak be
tween. From now on, we were forced to get
our meals anyhow, any place, as we
happened to arrive at one of the little
towns that lie out so forlornly on the
prairie. Those eating-stations will al
ways be among my choice collection of
nightmares. Talk about the way the
other half lives It's nothing to the
way the other half eats down there!
We took a chance at the real thing
in hot tamales one day. A little boy
was selling them at one of the stations.
"Well, after the first bite, mine fell out
of the window. A lean and melancholy
dog made, a dive for it, gave a sniff
und. with a disappointed look, sneaked
away, and I didn't blame him. He
looked hungry, too.
We finally lilt on a plan that was
our sole salvation. We bought a tin
can, and when we'd come to a town
we'd hall one of the ubiquitous small
boys and send him far some milk.
At one of those little prairie towns
that seem to actually leap out of
space, they, come so. suddenly into
view, we found our cow In a shed by
the station. We made quite a stop
here and everyone got out. Several
of the passengers wished to follow our
custom and buy some milk, and some
adventurous ones even essayed the un
accustomed feat of milking her them
selves. I was offered the chance to
try, but refused, having sore recollec
tions of my first and last attempt to
milk. '
It was on my - uncle's farm up in
New York State, and I, wishing to do
everything that a real farmer should,
desired to enroll milking among my
accomplishments. Being of tender
years, and with the confidence that
usually accompanies that stage of life,
I entered the barn for my first lesson,
with the utmost nonchalance, and
BY ELSIE BEE.
It isn't at all hard, once you know how.
But . knowing how is an art that is ac
quired only with much time, patience
and waste of good white paper. And then
the reward is never sure nor swift, but
once you have made a Jingle or a bit of
verse, you are, of course. Just that far
ahead of the ordinary man. Few can
hope to Jump Into the front rank with
Milton and Longfellow at one leap.; some
times, however, it is done. Better far to
aim at the proverbial star and miss It
than to aim at a nearby lamppost and
hit it.
For the benefit of ' those who have a
large supply of yearning and ambitious
desires to be poets and whose soul throbs
have heretofore met with only cruel re
buffs from an unfeeling and unapprecia
tlve public, and whose contributions have
been returned with kind, but not overly
stimulating words of thanks from some
thick-headed editor who doesn't know
good poetry when he sees it for these
the few simple directions given below
may be of personal value.
First of all, try a good old-fashioned
course of molasses and sulphur, or cream
of tartar. In some cases a short vaca
tion In the hills or on a farm, or out to
the mountains, or down to the beach,
will eradicate this form of biliousness
from your system. On the other hand,
the mere sight of Mother Nature In her
glowing gorgeous tints and varied moods
may serve only to aggravate the disease,
for disease It Is. Fortunately, it Is neither
iiiifilliiSli iSlll' 10
m popuIar;poeti:y
to Fom
"WE'LL CUT OFF OVR FIRST ROSES.
M - " I
f V K j
vis ; 1
gaily humming a dairy tune. I don't
remember how I came out. but I think
It was by the elevated.- When I. first
looked at the cow she was all peace
and contentment, but when she saw
me she looked dissatisfied, and I knew
there was a kick coming. She stopped
chewing her cud and let It run down
the loop then, after a few minutes,
she rang it up again, having decided
upon her line of action. Later I dis
covered that I was on the line, and
very near the transmitter.
My knowledge up to this time had
been confined to the facts that cows
had horns and gave milk, if you knew
how to ask for it properly, but, assum
ing a knowing air, I said: "So, boss!"
so contagious nor so prevalent as its com
panion disorders, voice culture, elocution
and copying Gibson heads.
If after heroic measures yeu find you
are unable to eliminate this yellow streak
from your system you may positively
know that you are impregnated with the
germs of poetry, and you have now only
to cultivate temperament and think of
yourself as a rising genius, or the com
ing poet of the hour.' It might be as
well, if at all possible, to, mix with,
musicians and artists, not the sleek, well
fed, prosperous-looking ones, but the
thin, long-haired, out-at-elbows chaps
with an insufferable amount of ego and
lack of interest in all but themselves. If
you can get in with a would-be Bohe
mian set whose sole idea of real Bo
hemia is gained from Ouida's novels, or
If you can be taken up and patronized by
some fool woman with a soul fcr above
her husband and children, and get her to
Introduce you .to her culture club, your
future is assured.
If you have no good fortune attend you
as mentioned, and have .to struggle with
your disease alone, perhaps a few words
would be helpful. Do not make friends
of healthy, happy people with clean
minds and hearts. Betteri far better,
choose morbid, self-centered folk; they
will stimulate your capacity and power
to turn out oodles of rot. A healthy
mind acts as a dash of cold water on
your fevered mentality. And then, too,
there is so little real understanding and
sympathy for your condition to be "ex
pected from them. Now that you have
the actual knowledge as to your being a
R. WILDER '
i which I believed to be the proper re
mark, and taking the pail between my
knees, I sat down at her business end.
Recalling, the rather limited instruc
tions I had received before leaving the
house, I gently took hold of the fau
cets. That's all I remember.
At the aforementioned Shawnee we
began to get some entertainment from
our misfortunes. A young man from
California, one of those serious fellows,
with a face like a deacon, but a fund
of humdr within,, wrote out telegrams
containing the most airy liights of Im
agination, and showed them to the
anxious and perspiring passengers, who
spent their time pretty equally between
swearing at ' the management of the
piv the
with
poet, and being satisfied on that point,
I want to tell you how . to write a
slogan. '
First You must live in or near, or uave
friends or relatives, either by marriage
or accident, living in or near some city
or place or thing that Is to be advertised
and brought into public prominence by
means of a slogan. (No, Annie, I do not
know where the word originated, but I
am of the opinion that its meaning may
greatly be Inferred from Its pronuncia
tion. Slow-gun not rapid, infrequent In
report, of a slow moving, lazy nature.
However, all this is but Idle conjecture
and not at all apropos.)
Second You must be a poet or have
symptoms of being one.- Now for the
writing of It.
Select a cool, calm evening when no
one is about. Be' sure you are alone.
This is important, because the muse,
being a woman, is contrary and oft re
fuses to appear under any but aus
picious moments.
Put the cat and dog and most of the
lights out. Muffle the canary and the
telephone and the door bell. Have handy
several tablets and sharpened pencils,
and all the standard works and com
ments of poets, past and present, that
you can get together conveniently.
If you are a man you can do better
work If you will divest yourself of your
shoes, coat and vest, and have on a
nearby stand 6ome good cigars and other
things of your favorite brand. These
sometimes stimulate poetical fervor.
If you are a woman, you must put on
your most aesthetic kimono and arrange
your hair In a low, classical coil. No
matter how you look, this is essential.
Better lay aside your shewing gum and
also discard your high-heeled slippers.
They are, perhaps, Interesting and use
ful In their respective places, but en
tirely out of harmony with the poetical
frame of mind.
Now you are ready. ' .
Do not give any precious moments t
a consideration of what your slogan is
to advertise; that Is of secondary Im
portance. Just so we have an inkling of
our subject matter what do we care
about the needs or requirements of the
concern back of the slogan-to-be? We do,
however, know this much: Portland is
going to have a great Rose Festival,, a
grand gala trio of days; something to
be made known to all the Universe, to
be read of, talked of, thought of and
viewed by every one who can come out
to our great Western city next Summer.
It is not going to be an ordinary yearly
event to interest a few and entertain
some, but it's to be the most gorgeous,
magnificent riot of great sweet roses, the
most artistic, carefully planned pageant
and days of happy doings that ever a city
dreamed of having within its walls.
The slogan is to be an apt, trite expres
sion, something keen and clever and
clean, to be read and repeated and re
membered and again repeated. Away In
the East and in the Middle West and
down South and up North, where our
festival Is to be heralded and advertised
and sung and where live the folk we
want to know of the glories of Portland,
the very ones we want to reach, the peo
ple have no more time to memorize stray
bits of verse than you or I have time to
learn all the Jingles and lines we see or
hear dally.-
So we want something that .will make
road and 'making the poor conductor's
life miserable.
One of these telegrams was shown to
me. It stated that the herd of elephants
belonging to Ringllng Bros." circus, that
was stalled 40 miles away, were to be
brought over, and take the passengers
on their backs across the washouts, where
another train would meet them.
Looking around to discover the author
of this delicious fiction, I was met by a
preternaturally solemn glance and a com
prehensive wink.
After that we pooled our energies, and
when I think of what we made that
trainful of passengers believe, not to men
tion the several other trains we were al
ways meeting, for we were generally
stalled seven and eight deep. I am as
tonished at the credulity of human nature.
We devised one telegram about a num
ber of prairie schooners that were to
come over the hills and take us by old
Spanish trails far from the washouts.
My serious friend showed the message,
very secretly, to an excitable little Ger
man, who evidently belonged to the
Uneeda Child Company, for he had about
a baker's dozen of small children, and a
gentle, childlike faith that was truly
touching.
We assured him that the conductor
could only let a few In on this excep
tional opportunity, as It Would be im
possible to take all the passengers. It
would be necessary to secure tickets in
order to get places, and he'd better do it
now and not let the conductor put him
off Just insist.
In great excitement the little man flew
to the poor, distracted conductor and
asked him mysteriously for tickets for
himself and family.
"Tickets what tickets?" demanded that
long-suffering man.
"Ah, you know yon kendt fool me I
know all aboud It, mine frendt," wagging
a knowing finger in front of his nose:
"I know that you must be crazy. I
don't know anything about any extra
tickets." '
"Dot's all right.' Tou don't want to led
on, but I haf been toldt. I wish to get
tiKeds for dose bralrle vaggons vat?"
"You're crazy!" bellowed the exasper
ated conductor, to our unholy Joy.
Who'n Sam Hill told you anything about
prairie wagons? You've been out in the
sun too long, Dutchy; go to-bed and put
Ice on your head."
.The monotony of our trip was further
varied by the arrival at one station of a
lady of the peroxide tint of blonde, who
smuggled in a small monkey and a large
sized flask. The monkey was hidden be
neath the berth, so she would not have to
put him in the baggage-car.
That evening after the berths were
made up we. were quietly settling down
when suddenly the air was rent by the
most piercing shrieks, followed by cries of
"Oh, my darling child, Rita, my sweet
heart, what is it? If you're fooling me,
you- naughty child, I'll skin you!"
The greatest excitement ensued: night-
manufacture $
applicatioB
f
V Ip ; :
"ITS NOT LOCAL ENOUGH," OBJECT MRS. HEN, MR. INTERFERE AND OLD LADY BUTT-IN.
them sit up and take notice of us. Some
live line that will stick in their memory.
Just as you and I mentally Identify this,
that or the other article or place or do
ing by some especially bright or apt ex
pression or slogan used in connection
with advertising it.
.
Let's see, it must be about roses, since
it's to be a rose festival.
Roses. Roses. Now, we want a de
scriptive won1 to upe with the roses
roses Juicy, plump, fat, lean, big, lovely,
beautiful. Well, the last two are appli
cable but not musical. Roses grand.
Hang It, that's too much-like a piano
advertisement. Roses luscious. No. we
can't eat 'em, . although fables say the
Faries and Nymphs live, on roses as a
diet. Well, how's this? Roses fragrant?
Say, that's pretty good for a begin
ning. Who ever heard of a rose not be
ing fragrant? Who ever heard of a rose
having an odor like Limburger, a piece
of burning rubber or 'a decayed rodent?
No, roses are always fragrant, in fact
and history. That's a part of their game,
so it's perfectly safe for us to begin our
slogan, "Roses fragrant." Who said,
"A rose by any 'her name would smell
as sweet?" ,
True, there is nothing particularly orig
"YOU KEN FOOL ME, I KNOW ALL ABOUD IT WINE FRN DT.
' '' ' ' ' ' -
"Covtred Her Head with a Blanket
wnen i r-omiea iviy camera at ner.
gear and lingerie (I trust I use the right
word) were in great evidence. Every one
asked every one else what the trouble
was, but none seemed to know.
Finally the mystery as solved. The lit
tle monkey, escaping from Its box. went
on an exploring expedition along the cur
tain poles, and, dropping into "Rita dar
inal or taking or brilliant In the asser
tion, and perhaps some of those old
money bags and vell-to-do travelers we
want to attract -to our rose festival so
they will come out here and settle, may
smile In their sleeves at us for telling
them "roses are red, violets are Blue,"
but that's nothing. .We are writing our
slogan and those are minor details.
Now, let's see. Roses. We must use
that word again if we can ring It In;
that's called poetic license.
(No, dear, gentle Letty, you cannot buy
H as you did the one for Fido nor you,
George, cannot obtain It at the, same shop
where you got your hunting and fishing
license.) It's a sort of privilege, always
overworked and abused and overdone
and all embryo poets are allowed to use
it. Like charity. It covers a multitude of
sns.
Remember to introduce the subject mat
ter as often as possible. For Instance,
how much better it would have been if
Longfellow had only made his lines read
thusly:
Aa unto the bow the cord fa?.
So unto man la woman as unto the bow the
cord is.
Though woman lead man, yet she follows
unto the bow the cord Is
T.hoiurh woman lead man. yet aha follows
H
Wrote Telegrams Containlna Airy
Flights of Imagination.
ling's" berth, frightened her out of her
little senses. George unearthed the little
simian, piteous and shivering.
The blonde lady pleaded on her knees
In very maudlin accents that the hard
hearted conductor would not send her pre
cious pet to the baggage-car; but he was
obdurate, and poor Chlco was banished
man. as' unto the bow the cord Is
Useleea each without the other, as unto the
bow the cord is.
But I don't suppose Longfellow knew
much about poetry. And, say; I'm sure
that short terse slogan of Tacoma's
heard and ; known, everywhere ' would
have been infinitely better had It read:
Watch Tacoma, watch Tacoma,
Watch, watch, watch Tacoma grow.
Or If that of Pasco had been:
Keep your eye, keep your eye.
Keep, keep, keep, your eye on Pasco.
Roses fragrant. Well, so far so good;
now for the rest of the line. Roses, roses
rare. Why, that's a great one. Rare
means well, what does It mean, any
way? -A rare steak Is one that Is not
well done and then there are rare birds,
but that's making game of things. But
rare roses! Now, that's an expression
that will make you open your eyes.
They are not common, everyday, ordi
nary plebeian roses; they don't belong to
the union or to the working class. They
are aristocrats, blue-bloods, rarities, every
blooming one of them and all the world
must know. They are rare, rare, rare.
So we have our first line. "Roses fra
grant roses rare."
Now. we must use the word rose again
to begin our new line with. (No, Mar
guerite, it is net a stanza yet. When we
have completed the new line we will call
it a couplet, then, but do not be too
hasty. Yes, you may call it an ode if
you choose, but be sure to specify clearly
what you owed it to.)
Here goes: Roses. Well, we've des
cribed them, so now we must tell where
you'll find them. We want the world to
know that roses are in Portland; It's our
Portland roses we are talking about. We
want to emphasize this fact. The roses
are in Portland and not In Scappoose,
nor yet in Pasco, Wash.; nor are they in
Iceland or Dutch Guinea, or at the North
Pole. So to be very sensible and get at
the point quickly we will say, "Roses
everywhere." Now that covers the sub
ject, I think and at the same time makes
It perfectly clear to everyone who con
templates a trip out here to see our roses
that these same roses are perhaps at this
same moment growing in his wood lot,
or the china closet or In his wife's best
to the accompaniment of his mistress'
sohr.
At El Paso we were stalled all one Sun
day ; but with the expectation of leaving
every moment. A bullfight v s on, over
In Mexico, Just across the river, but we
dared not go for fear of being left by our
train.
From El Paso we kept north across the
arid table lands, the low hills, like crum
pled, rusty tin, lying along the horizon.
They are treasure-houses of copper, these
hills, and every few miles a mine opening
may be seen jjerched high up on a hillside,
a short spur of the railway leading to it.
Crossing the desert between Tucson and
Fort Yuma, we ran into a sand storm.
The fine sand sifted into every smallest
opening and made breathing well-nigh
impossible. Fortunately It did not last
long. We had only run Into a corner of
It, and were soon out.
The desert showed us several of het
capricious moods, for presently -e were
treated to a most perfect mirage. Appa.
rently a lake or broad river in the desert,
with little islets and rocks mirrored in
the most beautiful, cool and wettest look
ing water Imaginable.
Fort Yuma claims the Uistinctlon of be
ing the hottest place In the Union. A
story Is told of a soldier who lived there,
and died. The night after his death his
spirit appeared to some of his comrades
at their camp fire. They asked him
what he wanted, and he said hades was
so much colder than Yuma he had come
back for his blanket.
It certainly lived up to its reputation the
day we were there.
A number of Indians were seated by the
platform displaying articles of beadwork
for sale. They object strenuously to be
ing photograpjied thinking the camera
has the evil eye, and while it takes their
portrait will also steal away their soul.
. However, these scruples can be over
come at the rate of 50 cents a scruple.
Who says the commercial Instinct lurks
not in the breast of the Indian?
One old woman, who was said to be a
hundred and four years old, covered her
head with her blanket when I pointed my
camera at her. For her entertainment
I did a little sleight-of-hand work, mak
ing the pass with a quarter, pretending to
swallow it', then picking It off her blan
ket, finally rubbed it into my trouser leg
and made it disappear entirely.
I only succeeded In frightening the poor
old creature almost to death. She clasped
her hands in fear, made the sign of the
cross, crooked her fingers to avert the
evil eye. and, pointing to me, put her
fingers to her head like horns, indicating
that I was a gentleman extremely well
known but of unsavory reputation.
Leaving these interesting remnants of.
the great race that once owned the land,
we continued upon our sadly interrupted
Journey.
(To he continued.)
(Copyright, 1!07. J. B. Bowles.)
bonnet. They are everywhere dear pub
lic. Rnnea fragrant, rosea rare,
Roses everywhere.
Something Is wrong with the meter.
(No, Frances, do not leave your work
to go and Investigate. I was not re
ferring to the gas meter. Nor you,
Charles; I mean nothing personal al
though you do often run to meet her.)
Still, something must be done. Let's
see, that last line needs the ham taken
out and then I think It will be length
ened enough. But we must be careful
about the lengthening. What word can
we put In there and still retain that
cute, cootchy catchy swing and rythm?
"Roses growing everywhere." Well,
that sounds all right, but you know and
I know and the world knows It's not
true, and there must be no lies in our
slogan.
Roses, roses let's chuck in some
more roses, can't have too many of "em,
anyway, bless their sweet smiling faces
so now we have it, "Roses, roses,
everywhere."
But here comes Mrs. Hen and Mr. In
terfere and old lady Buttln. "It's not
local enough," they say. "We must
have aomtthlng about Portland In It."
Fudge, what do they know about poetry,
or Its manufacturing process? But all
right, we cannot dictate, its easy to
change It. That's the beauty of a
slogan. All wou have to .do Is chop
it oft, or nail on a new part, or mend a
ripped place and It's as good as new
and applies- equally well to all places
at one and the same time.
So we will cut oft our first roses
(No, Susie, we will not need the prun
ing sheares) and in place of roses we
will substitute Portland. Then we
have It
Roses fragrant, roses rare
Portland roses everywhere.
Now, It's finished;' clever, keen and
pithy, ready to tell all the world of
our Rose Festival, to be on every lip
and in all languages, recited by the
children, suns; by Angelina on her
rented piano and adopted by the ath
letic fellows as a universal yell.
Isn't it easy, Just as easy, once ycAi
know how? .
To s Young Fox Terrier.
R. H. Law in the London Spectator.
Dear Racquet, when you cross your paws
And prick these dainty ears of aatln
How often must I grieve because
The art Is lost of sure dog-Latin!
Once beasts with 'men held kindly speech
- The woodman and the oak would parley.
The farmer seasonably preach
To nodding ears of wheat and barley.
Ah me! That grammar is forgot
And narrower our modern lore is;
No tongues have now the polyglot
Save Lltorae Humantores.
So access to your little brain
I only get by winding channels;
What mysteries to you were plain
Had I the language of the kennels!
But sudden knowledge, long denied.
Might lead you into afTectatlon,
Make you unbearable from pride
And discontented with your station.
Ashamed that you were but a dog.
Inflated with Insane ambition.
You might, like that unhappy frog,
Become a byword of derision.
Nay! pardon my unseemly pen;
What right la mine thus to insult your
Discreet Intelligence? We men
Have no monopoly of culture.
For after all your way you And
About this world with snout and muzslet
Is life .to your superior mind
Less of a problem or a puzzle?
Ah. surely to the Powers Unseen.
With Juster view us both discerning.
How small the difference between
Our relative degrees of learning!
If this do neresy, at least
One fact. L know requires no proving
Alike In man and bird and beast
The highest gltt la that of loving.
Courage and loyalty and trust
Are virtues too that brook no scorning;
Wherever found they alwaya must
Be honored, man or dog adorning.
Then, Racquet, we w4ll not despair -Of
opening up communications;
Though words for us are empty air
Yet there are other revelations.
In Canada the largest number of- wage
earners are encaged in log products. They
total nearly 50,000, and their wages m ifto5
amounted to over 1'1.0C0,000. The total
number of wage-earners that year was 311.
487. whose wan8 averagod $1832, an in
crease of 31 per centf since 1000.