The Seattle post-intelligencer. [volume] (Seattle, Wash. Terr. [Wash.]) 1888-1914, 1892-06-19

Beautiful Snow" but | can overcome it
IN society quicker. 1t was the most pain
iui thing that has happened since the war.
and inside OF twenty minutes | met all the
people OF North and South Carolina with
whom | am acquainted, besides seventy or
eighty from New York, who are here for
their health ard watching to see better
people fall of their horses.
L have always SAID that the roads here
should be macadamized but if they can
be upholstered at the same price it would
SUIT me better
This horse grew up on the frontier and
IS sort of selI-made horse. Civilization
scares him almost to death. So he un-
seated me as though | had been the snap
delegate OF rump convention. | still
remain so.
A correspondent from Ocala wants to
know which. in my judgment. is Walt
Whitman's most enjoyable poem.
Without hesitation | would say that the
most enjoyable one, because the only one,
barring my Captain" perhaps, which l
can understand without ovcrstimulating
myself, is one containing the following:
l think could turn and live with an mails, they
are placid and self contained
| stand and look at them long and long.
They DO not sweat and whine about their cond-
They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for
their sins:
They do not make me sick discussing their duty
to God.
Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with
the mania Of owning things:
Not one kneels 10 another, nor TO his kind that
lived thousands OF years ago;
Not one is respectable or unhappy over the
whole earth.
1t is no more poetry, perhaps. than the
annual tax iss of 1892, but 1T has ideas in
it, and ideas are going to hurt no man.
il
where find ii unconventional and from
the heart. Mr.. Riley writes me from Du-
luth, and drops into poetry so gently and
so gracefully that ( must run the risk of
vexing him by quoting page from his
letter.
But" he writes, what shall tell You
of NV first impressions of America as |
set foot on Duluth soil--or in it, rather
for ii is raining still, as it has been for the
last few months, in q way that seems very
hard to overcome. Albeit, as Brother
Brightwaters might cheerily remark:
Oh! what so grand as a May day scene?
The fields is green and the woods is green,
An the skies is soft as the cooling dove
You have heard SO highly spoken OF.
"Back several miles from here | began
to note evidence of northern latitude, as
compared with that SO recently left In In
diana. For instance, although l had
three pairs of undertaking, | noted with
them in my grip and not where my third
pair was growing, oh, SO cold and distant.
Then quite a few knit jackets on
low, soggy and sinister passengers be-
gan to appear, who talked III unac-
customea tongues and with dialect
that smeIled tishy and sort o Cutlery
yeilow-whisky tang that never yet was
seen on sea or land. Also at the stations
along the route began TO appear the OBJ
iect which the curious tourist first takes
Tor a dead COW imperfectly buried, but
which upon nearer approach proves to be
our old friend with the buffalo overcoat
that ofttimes barks and snaris at our acute
sensbilties as We jolt onward with the
grand march of civilization. But the dear
old bovine overcoat Is gong!
alt is wearing ava, Jean.
Like shaw when its thaw Jean,
And It's Launches are a Jean,
As bald as the tomb!
"There's cark there aud care, Jean,
And wear and tear there. Jean,
But there's mighty little hair, Jean,
Unsucked up the hulne'
-This word is little obscure in the original,
b.,t fo,t-s some ike deemed" or denied. but
evidently it is neither OF these. H. y.
Poetry like this does not bear the marks
of The coldchisel and the smell OF blasting
,,ot,dar is not on il. but oh how truthful
itisi How the buffalo oYerCoat Of the
northwest with red flannel lining TO II,
and the odor Of tine tepee and the dead
| and unchlorided past rises up before the
eve Of one as one reads these simple yet
| truthful lines 10 ones SELF.