St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1895-03-18

he has written, but mainly to the
things he has not written. Years ago
he used to turn out a greater amount
of unsigned lawn mower" jingle, as
he terms it, than any other writer in
the world, but since his literary refor-
msfion" there is nothing leaves his
pen without it's excuse for appearing
in print.
He admits that his style differs some
what from that of Milton: neither does
he maintain it is patterned after that
of Josh Billings. 1t is, indeed, sort
of a compromise between the two. and
in fact, he permits his muse to range
all over the common grounds between
these extremes. His careleSsly humor-
Gus and dialect verses are as greatly
admired as are his polite and polished
triolets and rondeauX. and it may be
truthfully said of his poetic genius
that it shows to as good an advantage
in it's shirt sleeves and overalls as it
does in a dress suit He seldom knows
when he takes up his pen to write,
whether the result will be ''a woful
ballad to his mistress eyebrow or a
light-running, self-operating jingle on
some topic so ludicrously simple and
homely that no one would think 1t
worth considering.
The Keynote to Mr.. Waterman
songs is located somewhere about mid
way between a smile and tear, and
humor and pathos are delicately blend
ed in his lines. He is never peSS1mlstlc
and his verses are the right sort 10
read on a dark day-they are full tof
sunshine. He is thoroughly alive, and
if his writings honestly reflect his
thought, he is really glad of it. Some
times there is a tinge of sunset sad
ness in his words, but as a rule they
are much more suggestive of a ROBIN S
song at daybreak. On the other hand,
his optimism is not of the bl1ssfuily
mistaken sort that forever insists that
everything is lovely and the goose
hangs high. He points the rainbow,
but he doesn't guarantee that therein
a. bag of gold at the end of it. He tells
us to have faith in all mankind, but
to keep an eye out for the green goods
and gold-brick sharper. He says we
should be kindly tho6shSfas regarding
the comfort of all created things, but
we should not attempt to thaW out
frozen hornets nest by the kitchen
fire without first sending the family
over to a neighbours.
Mr.. Waterman, who was born IN
Kendall county, Illinois, Nov. u, 1853,
is the youngest member of large
family. Most of his life has been
spent in the midwest and on the
frontier. Several years ago he took
up his residence in Chicago, where he
has since written extensively for the
press of that city and the Eastern
magazines and humorous papers. The
good work he has already done Is but
a promise of the better achievements
vet to follow Here is one Of his
poems:
THE PLEASURE OF 'IFFING."
If all our bones were funny bones,
Oh, wouldn't it be jolly?
If ali our tones were sunny tones
There'd be no melancholy. s 3
There'd be no melancholy If
Our tones were always sunny.
And life would be SO jolly if r.
If all our bones were funny.
If all our skies were cheerful skies,
Oh, wouldn't earth be gladdened!
If all our eyes were fearful eyes,
Oh, wouldn't life be saddened?
Life would be sadly saddened if
Our eyes were always fearful,
And earth be gladly gladdened if,
If all our skies were cheerful.
If this and that were thus and so,
Oh, wouldn't it be clever?
But Ifs" my dears, won't make 1t so,
Though we may @1f'' forever
But while 'if'' won't our wishes bring
We'd all be less contented,
And life would be a prosy thing
If lifting" were prevented.