The Sunday Oregonian., October 25, 1908, Magazine Section, Page 2, Image 46

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THE SUNDAY OREGONIAN. PORT1Y4VD. OCTOBER 25, 1908.
mm
:LL it has been a great
campaign, said the Hotel
Clerk.
"Grpat for who?" asked the house
detective ot the St. Reckless, scorn
fully. .
"Great for all persons favoring a
quiet and peaceful life, free from
noise or excitement," said the Hotel.
Clerk. ' I don't think it could have
been a quieter, aubdueder, clviler
spoken campaign if it had been per
sonally conducted by Edward Bok
Professor Nicholas Murray Butler,
Luther Burbank and Mrs. Rorer
author of the North American Egg
and One Thousand Ways to Disguise
It.
If I had any near and dear rel
atives that were suffering from nerv
ous prostration this Fall, I'd never
think of shipping them off to some
expensive sanitarium. No, sir, I'd
save money and at the same time in
sure the right sort of treatment for
those afflicted kin-folk by sending
'em to the National Headquarters
of one of the great parties it would
not matter greatly which where
naught disturbed the brooding calm
except the low jioignant groans of
the national treasurer every time he
passed the office safe and, the fret
fill exclamation of the national sec
retary, going over the morning mail
In the hope that some malefactor of
great wealth had written in a dis
gulsed hand, inclosing check.
it man t use to he this way,
Larry. There have been mellow
Octobers when the mere mention of
the simple word 'Tariff' had the
same effect upon the average citizen
that Niagara Falls would have upon
a hydrophobia patient. Then there
was Ninety-six, when by simply
coupling the figure 16 with its least
common divisor in the presence of a
bank president you could make him
froth at the mouth like a soda foun
tain. Men In Colorado went home
and beat their wives because they
had. golden fillings in their teeth.
You remember Ninety-six, I take It?
D'ye recall glorious Bourke Cockran
lending his silver tongue to the
cause of the silver standard, or per
haps I should say renting? That
was the year when every true Ameri
can 'stood ready and willing to lay
aside whatever he had in hand, un
less it happened to be a scantling, or
a set of brass knucks, or something
that would be equally handy, and en
gage in an intelligent argument of
the issues of the day with any man
that be thought he could lick. '
" 'Well, what d'ye think about it,
now?' one would say to the other,
pleasantly, by way of beginning the
conversation.
" 'I think William Jennings Bryan
will carry the state by not less than
100,000 votes.' the second would re
spond promptly, at the same time
laying down his pocket edition of
Coin Harvey and slipping a loose
chair rung out of its socket.
" 'And I think you're an infamous
liar, the same as all your family was
before you," the first speaker would
respond, as he took a flying leap out
of the second chair and reached for
one of those large ironstone china
cuspidors. And having, thus opened
the subject they would tcke up the
vital questions one by one and de
bate them until the cops came. Thut
was the campaign when a man who
wanted to take an active part in poli
tics needed to be there with a good
arm and an ear which adhered firm
ly to its natural moorings.
"You may have noticed how dif
ferent it is now, Larry. Some people
say it's lack of money for the cam
paigning, and some say it's1 lack of
I'm sure from what I can hear that
campaigning for money, although
both Mr. Ridder and Mr. Sheldon
have done all they could and tried
to do a lot more, who wouldn't come
across. But be the reason what it
will, there's something wrong. Once
upon a time, this late in the month,
the transparencies would be trans
piring and the roorbacks would be
roorbacking and every man who
really had the interests of his coun
try at heart would deem It his sa
cred duty to go out aud take part in
at least one torchlight procession
and come home the next morning
only a short lap ahead of the milk
man, smelling of kerosene except
where he smelled of beer. And
there'd bi monster final rallies by
both parties, only the Democrats
usually held theirs the night before
the election, thus leaving the Itepub-
icans free to hold theirs the night
after, when the returns were all in.
But this year I haven't heard
anybody whooping very loud for the I
candidates except the candidates.
There's some talk, of course, on poll
tics, but not much more talk, so far
as I can tell, than there is on the
subject of those new green Alpine
lids that are being worn so exten
sively by persons who are quite sane
and normal in other respects. When
a bunch of leaders get together for
a few earnest words of cheer and
up-llft, the picture reminds you viv
idly of a group of root and herb doc-
EPVEQ
fAtt THE HOTEL CLEBK.
SraVr4T&
tors Attending an ailing cow.
"There also has been a strange.
unaccountable silence on the part
of the patriot who's able to devote a
good deal of time to politics, owing
to his wife having all the plain sew-
ng she can do. He used to come into
every gathering and announce that
after a careful study of the condi
tions he felt so confident that he'd
bet half a million dollars on the
general results just as quick as he'd
bet five. And he would, too, prob
ably, because he had just as good a
chance of getting half a million as
he ever had of getting five.
"Here four qr five weeks ago it
did look as if there'd be a few fever
ish flutters. Mr. William R. Hearst
unfurled some spicy letters which
had an added interest aside - from
their contents by being the only
things of value that ever got away
from the Standard Oil Company.
Former Senator McLaurin of South
Carolina, - was induced thereby to
tunnel his way back to the surface
and utter a few posthumous remarks
over the top of the footstone; and
then he went back to his present lo
cation and found the premises
crowded -by Senator Foraker and
Governor Haskell, wbp'd moved in
during his absence. Then the Presi
dent felt called upon to write a few
brief remarks from time to time.
thus causing His Own Candidate
great joy. And after that Nicholas
Lohgworth gave vent to certain sen
timents tending to show that a man
can be bald-headed inside and out
side at the same time.- But they
went out and threw a minnow net
over Nick and since then there's
been nothing to excite, disturb or
harass.
"A man opens his paper of a
morning to find a new poem by Al
fred Austin, and skips that, and a
cable dispatch stating that there
have been a few more of those balks
in the Balkans, and skips that, and a
special department for women con
taining a three-line paragraph on
the suffrage movement and a column
and a half in regard to the new Fall
sleeve which all competent authori
ties agree will button all the way up
to the shoulder, but should or
should not It xrome down over the
hand? which after all is the real
question and he skips that and
then finally he comes to the political
Intelligence, or anyway that's the
common or cant name for it and
most generaly he skips that, and if
he doesn't he continues, neverthe
less and notwithstanding, to remain
comparatively calm.
"He strolls along Broadway and
at Fulton street he sees a large blue
banner with pictures on it of a re
tired police captain and a club but
ler labeled 'Taff and 'Sherman,' and
then he strolls two miles further and
he sees a large red banner with pic
tures on it of an old-time Shakes
pearian actor and a half-pay Meth
odfst minister labelled 'Bryan' and
'Kern,' and that's all he does see
that's calculated to make him realize
that we are all in the throes of the
most momentous battle for the cause
of human liberty in the history of
the civilized world and trembling on
the verge of anarchy and about to
be made slaves of by the plutocrats
and raising the banner of labor, and
rescuing the downtrodden from the
clutch of the vampire and engaged
in the last final death-grapple for
the rights of the great common peo
ple, but otherwise doing fairly well
and able to report that things are
going along about as usual, with
promises of an open Winter.
"Yesterday I went out looking for
a little campaign excitement. I said
to myself that it wasn't possible for
the average man to exhaust all the
possibilities of being foolish on April
the First and July the Fourth. Sure
ly, I figured, there'll be somebody
getting all het-up over the election.
"Well, after awhile I found . a
crowd on a corner, clustered about
an earnest orator and showing signs
of deep interest. I pushed my way
into him. He was a stranger to me.
I hadn't seen any picture of him
printed among the list of speakers,
but his mission was soon, made plain.
He was trying to sell a new kind of
self-acting collar button. In the
park I observed a group of unem
ployed, clustered together, -and I in
vestigated there. A neat and nobby
member of the marine corps was
standing guard over a colored pic-
BIT
t&VIN 5. COBB.
hi III I
" in iif it (n fyi
III' "
He sees a. fc-.NEK:
ture showing a handsome lad in
Peter Thompson clothes shaking
hands with a Rear-Admiral, the ap
parent object being to fnduco the
younger generation to enlist in the
Navy so they could hobnob with all
the high officials. I headed for what
looked like a noonday political meet
ing and it was a crowd going into a
moving-picture show. A soused party
wanted to cheer for Bryan alongside
the Hoffman House and a cop told
him he'd run him in If he didn't stop
annoying the gentlemen in the Na
tional Democratic Headquarters, by
yelling that way. Finally on a
street car I strurk ' a solid looking
party who was willing to talk over
the outlooK.
" 'Do you think the campaign has
hurt business?' I said to him.
" 'Well,' says he to me, 'It hasn't
done my. business any good.' "
"Did he tell you wot his business
wuz?" asked the House Detective.
"Yes," answered the Hotel Clerk.
"He said he was a manufacturer of
campaign buttons."
JIM NASH M.
Through the mellow haze
of th Autumn days
The golden leaves are falling.
And the cool air's blent
With the moth ball' ecent.
And the grip germ's gaily calling.
Now the pulse heats Quick
At the heater's trick
Of riling the house with smoke.
And a hen both you've tried
You flnally decide
That riiu'd sooner freeie than choke.
The coal man sings a roundelay, and. tha
trolley-car grows cold.
"When the maple turns to crimson and the
sassafras Is gold.'
Now the new Fall stvtes
The breadwinner rile.
A he roughs up his hard-earned dough.
And the ulntne pill
And the plumber's bill
Keeo life from becoming too slow.
Though we save the price
tX the Summers lit,
We blow it for Winter's coal.
And it makes us sick
To hear the gas meter's click.
A It chalks up its costly toll.
And we'vo . to dig for the dough to get
our overt-oat out of hock.
"When ihe frost is on the pumkln and tha
fodiier's in the shock."
NATIRK. like many a young man.
b lns her Fall by painting thlnfrs
reti. We of the city's walled can
yons, whose dally experience with tlie
green things of the country 1 limited
to the survey of a sprig of parsley on a
15-cent steak at the, lunch hour, are
probably more familiar with the young
man's artistic efforts than we are with
the masterpieces of "Mother Nature's
paint pot." The glories of Autumn,
"the sweet incense of the forest," and
"the painted landscape melting into the
hagy distance'' and "the hush of na
ture's annual funeral" and all those
things that the poet slops oyer the
pages of the magazines are reserved
for the verdant country dweller who
doesn't give a continental cuss for them.
The chief glory of Autumn to him is
the fact that he can assassinate a few
swine and load up his old . cart with
mincemeat and ltverwurst and cider,
applebutter and hogshead Cheese and
choke pears and triple-plated pumpkin
pie plants and patent adjustable pu--micestone
potatoes, and drive his man
gey old plug into town and collect all
the available wealth of the neighbor
hood, while we of the city's busy marts
of trade, who would fain experience
a few of the poet's "glories of the Au
tumn season," must now mortgage our
little home to keep our wife from being
snubbed by the neighbors because her
last Fall's clothes are out of style, and
at the same time have enough left to
keep the gas from being shut off and to
pay our share In the joint stock com
pany that is being formed among the
prominent citizens of the town to pur
chase a wagon load of coal from the
Coal Trust.
When John Frost comes hiking over
the hills on his annual spree painting
things red. opening the chestnut burr
and touching the woods and the fields
with his icy finger until the golden
leaves drift Idly to the ground and the
limbs of Uie trees are so bare that the
corn is jhoekexi, most of us begin to
feel that If we can get through this sea
son of the year without talcing out a peti
tion In bankruptcy, and succeed in dodg
ing the various new styles of Winter dis
eases, that will be the proper form for
the coming season, we can manage to
plug along through another year in
comparative ease and comfort. I have
managed to weather a few threatened
Autumnal financial disasters by point
ing out to my w"lfe that if she waits till
after the holidays she can buy her
Winter clothes at half price, then after
the holidays I show her how useless
it is to buy Wiater clothes when Winter
Is most over. But this isn't a game
that can be repeated very often unless
you are blessed with an unusually
thick-headed wife.
Autumn Is the glad season of the year
when we pack the kids off to school
and they trade germs sight unseen with
the other kids of the surrounding
neighborhood, and introduce into the
family circle an assorted collection of
bacteria that is guaranteed to last
through the Winter and provide plenty
of h-ome entertainment till the cholera
morbus season opens. As I sit here In
my costly magnificence, my memory
hikes back down the vista of years to
those Autumn days In the mellow past
when I used to go to the old red school
house and lug home a diphtheria germ
for which I had traded the mumps and
the measles and a white marble to boot,
and I recollect with what patience and
Christian forbearance I would, cheer
fully neglect my studies aisd devote all
my time to domesticate this microscopic
tittle pet and keep It in the family till ,
the end of the school term. Ah, what
recompense have' fame and fortune for
the joys of childhood
Looking back over my past life I
have always noticed that when I live
through Autumn I have never died be
fore the next Autumn. This fact gives
me a great feeling of relief now when
Autumn is over, as after the first of
December I feel comparatively safe and
can allow my insurance policy to lapse
without- feeling that I am neglecting
the interests of my family.
One of the chief blessings of the 'Au
tumn season is the fact that then the
baseball pennants are all decided and
business throughout the country can
again resume something approximating
a normal condition, and the leather
lunged perpetual motion baseball bug
with the brass-mounted nerve crawls
into his hole and pulls the hole after
him and hibernates for the Winter,
while the long-haired college youths
gird op their football armor and splat
ter each other over the landscape till
the Coroner has to collect them with a
blotting paper, and thus reduces the
number of educated pests that the
world at large will have to plug along
with.
With the first tinge of Autumn In the
air the tin-horn politician and the wild
eyed office-seeker emerge from their
Summer lethargy and get busy with tlx
bull con and prove to us that the age
of chivalry and martyrdom are not yc
dead. . As the festive butternut ripens
in the cow pasture the overworked poli
tical chestnut leaves its burr and drops
in the highways and byways, and we
are filled again for the nine thousand
seven hundred and seventy-second time
with a deep feeling of gratitude and
confidence that the country will not
yet go to the demnition bow-wows so
long as there are so many men who
are willing to sacrifice their own per
sonal interests to serve those of the
Nation at an increased salary and a
rake-off on all grafts.
- As Fall approaches the campaign
speech limbers up and grows more ac
tive, and the laboring man's confidence
In human nature that had been get
ting groggy and hanging onto the
ropes, gets a new lease of life and
cornea back for more as be hears again
of the vast number of men who are
devoting their lives to securing legis
lation in his behalf, while old Ananias
groans and turns over in -his grave
as he thinks of how the records that he
set in ages past are being smashed
to smithereens.
In the Fall that species of city dwel
ler called sportsman in the magazines
and unprintable names by the residents
of the, rural districts packs up some
corkscrews and snakebite medicine and
giant powder and whisky and dyna
mite and corn juice and bombs and bit
ters and hits the trail to the primeval
truck patch, where he lugs an arsenal
through the underbrush and devastates
the surrounding scenery and introduces
a widespread mortality in the agricul
turalist's barnyard.
This particular form of mania in the
human race breaks out annually "when
the maple turns to crimson and the
sassafras to gold," and the persons af
flicted lock up their comfortable homes
and steam-heated offices and kick holes
in the virgin forest with their effete
shin bones, jam -their lumbar vertebrae
inco their vest pocket, performing acro
batic, stunts with the landscape, eat
food that would cause them to kick
their wife in the short ribs at home,
fill each others' systems full of bird
shot, and then they'll come and back
you up inco a corner and stand on your
toes and talk you Insensible blowing
about the glorious time theyfhave' had.
And yet there are padded cells to spare
at the foolish farms.
I was afflicted with this Autumn
mania once, when I was younger, and
the brain that has since caused the
world to stand aghast at Its marvelous
propensities had not fully developed,
but I outgrew it with my "calf love,"
and all my other bad faults. After due
deliberation and sober thought I de
cided that it ill becomes a man from
whom the country expects so much, to
go out annually and lay waste the
scenery of his native land.
I am now trying to plug along with
out "communion with nature 1n her
visible forms." I find that the best place
to satisfy the cravings of my savage
nature for the pursuit of game Is be
tween the covers of the sportsmen's
magazines, where there Is more cheer
and less gloom splattered through the
bosky dells, and you are closer' In
touch with your base of supplies and
caa have the use of the home cuisine
at meal time. I find now that my
mature nature requires very little awe
inspiring grandeur, and a good deal of (
woven wire mattress and nutritious,
digestible food.
Perhaps I am not gifted with a poetio
nature. At any rate it does seem to
me that these Fall and Spring poets
exceed the speed limit set In a poetio
license. While appreciating the fact
that a poetic license is more flexible
than an automobile license, or even a
dog license, or a saloon license, still I
do not think that it should permit the
manufacturer of Fall styles in poetic
prevarication tojump the entire pre
arranged system of the seasons and
drag In dog-days and spring-fever at
a time of the year when all humanity
north of tho Mason and Dixon line H
bustling Into its f.'eece-ULoed underwear
and a fellqw can't take otf his ulster
and arctics without flying Into the face
of Providence and dying of pneumonia.
Neither should it permit him to intro
duce a "mellow haze" In the middle of
a drizzly fog that is so thick that tha
White Wings have to dig a tunnel for
the trolley cars to move through.
Of course this is only my personal
opinion, but I would advocate that any
poet who borrows a bucket of coal from
his neighbor and booms up the fire to
150 degrees Fahrenheit when the wind
comes whistling down from the North
Pole charged with grip and pneumonia
and maliciously tears off a llttlo ode
that is slopping over with mellow sun
shine and soft soughing zephyrs should
have his license revoked. Anyway, wa
have entirely too blamed many poets
who would make a bigger hit driving
an ash cart or biting holes in trans
fers on the rear end of a trolley car.