The Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1877-1885, 1882-11-11

Hand Made Eloanenae.

4 SliicstSo 1fSetF OcedW because we dislike
humorous paper, and as rule read
those publications that enrich the mind
and add to the strength of the intellec-
tnai faculties. We just happened. how
/ ever, to catch the following. under the
head of Trade Towers" and REFERRING
| to the new board of trade BUILDING. s
BE not alarmed, gentle or gallant
reader A great stretch of columns does
| not mean. OF necessity, either prolixity
| or ponderosity. and. therefore, skin it
| not In this instance for to you individu-
ally and affeetionately it is dedicated.
| How IN a paragraph-pra tell a fellow
that!-cftn any adequate mention be
made OF the Chicago Board of Trade and
| It's current efilorescence. architectually,
INTO the consumate pink that, now
springing majestically from "A bed of
| granite, marble and sculpture. will soon
have to lift its sun-kissed petals fully 800
feet into the air. Loftiness, substantial
ity, and graceworthy of its builders, and
OF the imperial city they have so largely
reared and now and ever represent so
uniquely and gloriously"
This explains where the Sweet Singer
OF Michigan went to when people thought
she was Kidnapped. When people told
US that she had been garroted and
IHiOWA tHlO LINZ huron. we Stlu TO our
selves, no, she is not dead. Julia cannot
possibly be dead Some more horrible
fate has befallen her She is on the
Inter Ocean staff, eating sour paste and
jerking poesy out of her system for her
board
Yes, these musical gobs of high-priced
posey came from Julia. We know Ju-
LAS style the moment we see it. 1t is
the polonaise style of free unfettered
Michigan gurgle.
Current efnorescence architectually in
to the consummate pink that now SPRING
ing. maiestically from a bed of granite
lifting its sun-kissed petals,'' and some
other things like that. are Julia's. Ju-
liza is poet even in prose. She can't
help it. She was born that way and
then while still little girl got blow on
the head from fire and burglar proof
safe that fell out of a third story window
on her bump of ideality.
Since that time she has been unable to
recognize the faces of friends, and all
she can do is TO write blank verse for
the Inter Ocean. The managing editor
just ties her to the city EDITORS desk so
that she can't get out on the street and
run away, and then he tells her to write
up kind of Walt Whitman wad of
stuff that don't mean anything. and
which is therefore regarded as word
painting
Later on, the poet gnashes her teeth,
and comes at us again in this style:
The tabulated figures of business
transacted rise up story upon story, Gu
pulo upon mansard, fag-pole upon tow
er, a not less massive memorial to the
board than the vast new Chamber of
Commerce about to overtop. and dwarf
its tete-a-tete neighbors, the Grand
Pacific hotel and the Union depot, The
cattle of a thousand hills, the grain of a
continent, the bristle-Snouted beauties of
a hemisphere!-the multitudinous Gnu
meration is denied.
How do you like thatP Did old Sir
Walter Scott in his palmiest days ever
trill anything like that? ''Bristle-snout-
ed beauties of hemisphere Now who
does she mean by that? If we had been
boarding at the Grand Pacific when that
article was published, we would have
gone over to the Inter Ocean woodshed
and secured o stick of cordwood, and
then we would have gone up the eleva-
tor, leaving death and human fragments
upon every floor.
Do you suppose that we would board
at the Grand Pacific and pay four dol
lars day and then be called "a tete a-tete
neighbor' and ''bristle-snouted beau
ty Of hemisphere" Not exactly. When
we pay our bills it will be a cold day
when we win let a poet or any other OBJ
iect of charity call US the ''bristle-snOut-
ed beauty of hemisphere"
Farther on the poet tunes her Tyre to
a lager beer concern and says some very
touchful things at seventy-five cents
line and board. The true poet loves to
wri6e about beer and other beauties of
nature. Illinois hogs and Milwaukee
lager beer are the best things in the
world to write a sonnet on. They say
you can 60 to the Inter ocean office at
any time and get good two column
poem on the hog, by giving the poet
link of pork sausage as guarantee OF
good faith. Why, poetry in Chicago Is
as plenty this year rs pumpkins ana
politicians. If you want an ode to a car
load of Wyoming 3-year-old steers you
can 90 over onto the west side, and get
a long-haired man by giving him fresh
liver, to write something that will make
you get right up and howl.
The board of trade ought to be proud
of those eighteen columns OF collc-ln-
spired verse, descriptive of nothing and
meaning nothing under heaven but so
much per line When the Inter Ocean
sweet singer gets an order for a poem,
she lust asks what it is to be about, and
how long it is to be, and then she let's
her hair down, loosens her corset laces
a little. so that she won't be hampered
any, and then she sails in. She don't
care for expense, but just shells out
high-priced sentiments like these, Just
as if times were good and money