The Hood River glacier. (Hood River, Or.) 1889-1933, 1891-11-07
HAPPY THOULGTS.


For week or more the rain has de-
scended, kissing to life the tender
blades Of grass and covering the earth
with verdure. The spruting wheat
has covered the bare ground with tints
of vivid green, and the ting roots are
reaching far into the mellow, moist
earth preparing for comfortable nap
under the fleecy blankets of snow with
which it will soon I've covered But n
week or so ago the hills were dusty,
barren, bleak, brown and dead; to-day
they are green rs at the vernal equinox
Why? Because the rains have come
and the thirsty soil has drank and is
refreshed. This result should speak
louder than words as to what the soil
would do the long summer through
warmed by the sun if the water which
is going to waste should be utilized
upon it. We need no Dryenfurths, no
Melbourne's, no patent ninmakes,
but we do need energy and intelligence
applied TO those resources which Ma
ture has given H.. We need not look
to the sky, but to the river.
The moon is dead planet and unin-
habited, so say the scientists, because
it contains no water. And yet who
knows but that some race of dessicated
anti-irrigationis;s may not find there n
home and climate suited to their
tastes. The very nature of things re-
quires that some planet, some place, be
set aside for q future habitation of the
aridity crank. The moon, forsooth,
may be just suited TO this class. Moist
ure and heat are the two things neces-
sary, besides soil, to plant growth; and
yet there are those so "sot" in their
ways that they think the only way
that moisture can be supplied is by
sprinkling. They abhor irrigation and
irrigationists and refuse moisture in
any form except guttation.
When the ark landed on the summit
of Mount Ararat, sacred history records !
the fact that the face of the earth WAS
with water, and that the dove /
seeking vainly resting place for her
foot (Or either of them, came back to /
the ark. There was no living thing,
animal or vegetable, upon the whole .
world except in the ark of refuge. And /
after seven days Noah again sent forth
the dove, and in the evening she re-
turned unto him with an "Olive leaf /
plucked off" Thus in one week it is
shown that as result of irrigation, the .
olive leaf had grown; and more, that
the first product of the soil after the
food was the result of irrigation. 1t
shows, also, that it is hard to overdue
the irrigation business.
The elections are over. The song of
the siren is now serene. The Camp
bells are not coming, and the tin-tin-
abulatious of the Mckinley bill, or
bell, are silenced in victory. New York
has furnished, the democracy, at least,
a national Flower, and the pitcher is
broken at the fountain and the Fasset /
is busted in the barrel! Iowa has
elected one of the Boies governor and
Massachusetts has RusselIed up an
other! The sound Of the stramdOodle |
is heard no more, and the bazoo of the |
ward striker is wrapped i'll red flannel
and is out of a job. The political frosts
Of the first Tuesday after the first Mon
day in November did it with its little
hatchet, and the crop Of small-fry pol
iticians await the coming of the presi-
Dental year, when they can again, at
some one else's eXIense-irrigate.
The elections are over and now the ,
time for the Thanksgiving proclama-
ton is at hand. The feathered limbs .
Of the old Shanghai are turning to a
golden hue, and the campaign rooster
yet has time to fatten up. The egotis-
tical old gobbler has worn the ends Of
his wing feathers off in making his
geometrical figures in the dust and has
enjoyed the spread of his tail feathers
to his own complete satisfaction, and
he is ready to furnish another Spread"
just as matter of thanksgiving. The
omniverous hog is ripe and hangs in
pendant links, stuffed inside of his own
al'works, and is, as it were, a
case of grounding. 1t is high time for
the presidential proclamation explain
ing to us what we are expected to give
thanks for. The feasters are ready and
Jhe feast likewise, hence we say-turn
ln the water