Morning appeal. [volume] (Carson City, Nev.) 1877-1906, 1878-11-09
INDIAN SUMNER.

and mark its fruits! See the grass as it
grows in the Valley of Pine Greek; look at
the wide acres of alfalfa in Washoe; see what
the vagrant air and opulent sunshine have
done, unasked, for Carson Valley; what
world of wealth lies latent in this long de-
spised loam-soil washed out of the iron
bearing lodges of our mountain sides.
But this is verging toward the turgid edge
Of rhapsody. Sunshine and air are too good
and healthful to be subjected to the spend
thrift aajectivity of misbegotten zeal
1t is amazing, is the tenderness of this
delicious season. The birds, too wise to be
fooled by it, withhold their songs Though
the pot-vallant turkey, taking on the mock
heroism of despair and staggering toward his
untimely end and regardless of the on-comlns
Of the Puritan Christmas, struts and gobbles
in the face of his consprators while yet the
smell of sage and sweet marjoram is pun.ent
In the breeze.
Out in the morning air sat squaw with
stenchy fire beside her with its meager embers.
She was dissoviug the mutton-tallow of her
manumission from the toilsome parasite.
With the paralytic and not joysome voice of
Tie ''inferiOr races
"Nounchcd and mounched and mounched"
And then said one who was impatient of
his thought and expression
What these,
81 withered and wild in their attire
That look not like the inhabitants o the earth
And yet are on it
Over against this bag sat a sheeny peacock,
his feathers aglee, pecking his breast in tie
Iusty sunlinght, mis- snaky eye and head
punching itself under his blue and green and
golden plumage, forgetful of his roasted an
cestors at the feast of Pericles and his Roman
tmitators:
ID; hau5 D,oc,l ab JenicH coodjdt crcem
But peacock is better than a goose whose
sacredness is only apparent i'll his squavking
Iotroonery The parties to the contract
never admit the terms of the motto that
whats sauce for the goose is sauce for the
gander.
But we are descending into personalities.
Let us get out into the sunshine.
The leaves as they lie on the ground under
the lunch tables (the mahogony trees), and the
lushy foliage of Treadway farm are sere and
yellow in their autumnal death; and their
tint is marvellous and golden. So calm is
the sweet breath of this Indian Summer that
they lie there like chamber carpet i'll clean
kept house How wisely Mother Nature
does these seasonable things. Meantime the
brook gUrgles by, singing its pleasant song
81 wind about and in and
With here blossom sailing:
And here and IL "a lusty trout
And here and there sTaylin..
And down by Philips farm flow
70 join the trimming river,
And men may come and men may 80
But go on forever
Making green the gray granite Gin its litter
ate way this gurgling rivulet trending Joy
ously to the sea sings to me the song of peace,
The willow should never be forgotten. Our
j Ky friends, the folk
Whe'r ere Adam wove
Or Eve had spun
Boosted man gentleman.
The Indians have found the osier here and
have woven it. Look at the yonng warrior
swung behind his mothers back-mark how
he toys with the pearly water she'll which
him, the knave, in the October sun, battle
him, with dry hand, in the sunlight land no
thought of water), and lean him and his
willow crib like all umbrella against fence
and leave him. there to grow up with the
country The blessed hearts, how happy
they are They never fool with the prima
ries they don't poster themselves with the
awfulness of platforms and conventions; they
are in 40 wise washed or foiled by the waters
and the slime of the filthy pool of politics.
John Burroughs says: g He who marvels
at the beauty of the world in summer will
find equal cause for wonder and admiration I
in winter 1t is time the pomp and pageantry
are swept away, but the essential elemedts
day and night the mountain and e
the valley, the elemental play and succession
and perpetual presence of the infinite sky.
This is almost Shakspearian in it's cogency and G
terseness; and it is also almost relevant. q
But we are dealing with the Indian Sulamer. a
Afoot and light hearted
hate the open road. a
Gong by place where a little girl of my c.
blood and liking had been playing with such Il
,lunder as she had found, | saw that she had
made table of some ironmongery and Il