Datasets:

Hellisotherpeople

/

Lipogram-e

like 1

bright girl thought of having band music in that now popular park.

And _what_ do you think that stingy Council did? It actually built a

most fantastic band-stand; got a contract with a first-class band,

and all without so much as a Councilman fainting away!! So, finally,

on a hot July Sunday, two solid hours of grand harmony brought joy

to many a poor Soul who had not for many a day, known that balm of

comfort which can "air out our brains' dusty corridors," and bring

such happy thrills, as Music, that charming Fairy, which knows no

human words, can bring. Around that gaudy band-stand, at two-thirty

on that first Sunday, sat or stood as happy a throng of old and young

as any man could wish for; and Gadsby and his "gang" got hand-clasps

and hand-claps, from all. A good band, you know, not only can stir and

thrill you; for it can play a soft crooning lullaby, a lilting waltz or

polka; or, with its wood winds, bring forth old songs of our childhood,

ballads of courting days, or hymns and carols of Christmas; and can

suit all sorts of folks, in all sorts of moods; for a Spaniard,

Dutchman or Russian can find similar joy with a man from Italy, Norway

or far away Brazil.

II

By now, Branton Hills was so proud of not only its "smarting up," but

also of its startling growth, on that account, that an application was

put forth for its incorporation as a city; a small city, naturally,

but full of that condition of Youth, known as "growing pains." So its

shabby old "Town Hall" sign was thrown away, and a black and gold onyx

slab, with "CITY HALL" blazing forth in vivid colors, put up, amidst

band music, flag waving, parading and oratory. In only a month from

that glorious day, Gadsby found folks "primping up"; girls putting on

bright ribbons; boys finding that suits could stand a good ironing;

and rich widows and portly matrons almost out-doing any rainbow in

brilliancy. An occasional shop along Broadway, which had a rattly door

or shaky windows was put into first class condition, to fit Branton

Hills' status as a city. Old Bill Simpkins was strutting around, as

pompous as a drum-major; for, now, that old Town Council would function

as a CITY council; HIS council! His own stamping ground! According to

him, from it, at no far day, "Bill Simpkins, City Councilman," would

show an anxiously waiting world how to run a city; though probably, I

think, how _not_ to run it.

It is truly surprising what a narrow mind, what a blind outlook a man,

brought up with practically no opposition to his boyhood wants, can

attain; though brought into contact with indisputably important data

for improving his city. Our Organization boys thought Bill "a bit off;"

but Gadsby would only laugh at his blasts against paying out city

funds; for, you know, all bombs don't burst; you occasionally find a

"dud."

But this furor for fixing up rattly doors or shaky windows didn't last;

for Old Bill's oratory found favor with a bunch of his old tight-wads,

who actually thought of inaugurating a campaign against Gadsby's

Organization of Youth. As soon as this was known about town, that

mythical pot, known as Public Opinion, was boiling furiously. A vast

majority stood back of Gadsby and his kids; so, old Bill's ranks could

count only on a small group of rich old Shylocks to whom a bank-book

was a thing to look into or talk about only annually; that is, on

bank-balancing days. This small minority got up a slogan:--"Why Spoil

a Good Old Town?" and actually did, off and on, talk a shopman out of

fixing up his shop or grounds. This, you know, put additional vigor

into our Organization; inspiring a boy to bring up a plan for calling

a month,--say July,--"pick-up, paint-up and wash-up month;" for it was

a plain fact that, all about town, was many a shabby spot; a lot of

buildings could stand a good coat of paint, and yards raking up; thus

showing surrounding towns that not only _could_ Branton Hills "doll

up," but had a class of inhabitants who gladly would go at such a plan,

and carry it through. So Gadsby got his "gang" out, to sally forth and

any man or woman who did not jump, at first, at such a plan by vigorous

Youth, was always brought around, through noticing how poorly a shabby

yard did look. So Gadsby put in Branton Hills' "Post" this stirring

call:--

"Raking up your yard or painting your building is simply improving it

both in worth; artistically and from a utilization standpoint. I know

that many a city front lawn is small; but, if it is only fairly big,

a walk, cut curvingly, will add to it, surprisingly. That part of a

walk which runs to your front door could show rows of small rocks rough

and natural; and grading from small to big; but _no_ 'hit-or-miss'

layout. You can so fix up your yard as to form an approach to unity in

plan with such as adjoin you; though without actual duplication; thus

providing harmony for all who may pass by. It is, in fact, but a bit

of City Planning; and anybody who aids in such work is a most worthy

inhabitant. So, _cut_ your scraggly lawns! _Trim_ your old, shaggy

shrubs! Bring into artistic form, your grass-grown walks!"

(Now, naturally, in writing such a story as this, with its conditions

as laid down in its Introduction, it is not surprising that an

occasional "rough spot" in composition is found. So I trust that a

critical public will hold constantly in mind that I am voluntarily

avoiding words containing that symbol which is, _by far_, of most

common inclusion in writing our Anglo-Saxon as it is, today. Many of

our most common words cannot show; so I must adopt synonyms; and so

twist a thought around as to say what I wish with as much clarity as I

can.)

So, now to go on with this odd contraption: