The Portland daily press., 1893-08-28

=.
With their tints of notified greenness,
And their luscious, toothsome sweetness,
Than of honey, three times sweeter7
should answer, Ishould tell you,
From the sandy soil of Georgia,
From the regions of the southland,
From the country of the sunshine,
Where the happy colored brother
Feeds on millions, - full of gladness,
Feeds and sleeps, and, waking, feeds more
Full of joy because he liveth
And can stuff himself with melons.
It is my opinion that the poets Of this
day and generation have sadly neglected
the watermelon, and this is why have
preserved the lines above printed, which
were found on the back Of warrant -
velope and labeled, ga long way after
Longfellow." To be sure, there have
been many trivial rhymes and jingles
written concerning the king Of berries
the watermelon is true berry and the
blackberry is not-but the anointed poet
of the watermelon has not yet begun to
sing, for exalted poetry must be serious.
That the advent of this singer is not
far off is likely, for, as the watermelon
has grown in Importance as an element
of agriculture and commerce and finance,
newspaper writers in many cities have
begun to deal with it as BELTS an article
of so much moment, and serious treat
ment in newspapers always precedes
treatment by serious versifers. Perhaps
the most notable production having the
watermelon for its subject that has yet
appeared is a five column treatise writ
ten by a savant of St. Louis. This
learned writer has traced the watermel-
on from the time of the Ptolemies down
through the pages of history to the bus
ting present S
Although the watermelon is undoubt-
eddy fruit that has been known to
man since and before the dawn of civil
hzation, it was not until few years ago
that it's cultivation and sale were reduced
to such science as to place it on it's
proper level as regards other products
of the earth. There are, however, fea-
lures of the watermelon business as it
is at present conducted that grievously
pain the true melon devotee.
It was only yesterday that I met a
citizen who, like myself, was among the
group of outsiders bossing the job of
unloading cargo of watermelons on
one of the New York docks. A careless
longshoreman dropped a melon, which
of course burst into many fragments
and spilled its precious juices on the
planks.
'sDrat the manl' exclaimed my casual
acquaintance. ssThere's another first
class melon spoiled. Why, sir, it Anglers
me to see such unwarrantable lack Of
care in the handling Of such noble fruit.
When I was boy, I'd have had my
jacket tanned to excess if I'd broken
such melon. But there were no such
melons where I lived, although we had
watermelons, and in comparative plenty
when we could keep the sinful sons of
our neighbors from hooking them.
81 was deacon's grandson, and lived
with my father, and he with his, in one
of the backwoods townships Of New York
state. My grandfather planted his water
melons one season in patch Of newly
cleared land away back in the woods.
He told no one where it was for fear that
the aforesaid wicked youngsters might
find it out and rob it.
''Une SUNDAY my father didn't go to
meeting with my grandfather, and re-
manned at home also, and we two went
out to walk. My father took along his
fishing tackle, and it is my impression
that he meant to break the Sabbath. In
fact, he did drop his hook into the wa
ter, but as he lost it and didn't catch
anything but big root he said he broke
nothing but his fishline When my fa-
ther had accomplished that much, we
turned about and started home by
short cut. When we were about half
way there, we came to little clearing
Full of stumps. In the middle of the
clearing was melon patch, and in the
middle Of it-running along by three
stumps-was vine with three ripe mel
ons ON it.
Goodness me, my father said, heres
your gran'pa's melon patch. And swan
to mercy if he amt a-comin this way
now home from meeting Then my IA
ther dropped his fshpole in some weeds
and sat down on good sized stump, at
the roots Of which lay good sized melon.
"'Get upon that little stump by that
little melon, bub,' he said to me, and
when grandfather came along he found
us there. He didn't say anything at first,
but he took off his coat, rolled up his
sleeves and sat down on big stump
next to mine, at the roots of which big
melon was lying.
Watching the melons grow, I see,
Samuel he said after awhile to my IA
Their. Did you catch any fish? Then
without waiting for an answer he said:
Il s'pose you would like to plug one Of
them melons today. But you can't. It's
the Sabbath day, and I think you've
committed sins enough already for one
Sunday
''Then we all went home to dinner,
and my grandfather looked very solemn
all the afternoon till he fell asleep in
his chair reading Fox's Book OF Mar
tyrs.' The next morning the three mel
ons were gone, and my grandfather laid
it to the froward youth Of the neighbor-
hood to whom I have already twice al