The Anaconda standard. [volume] (Anaconda, Mont.) 1889-1970, 1895-12-27
HIS BLASTED HOPES
The Bogeman Chronicle" Man ia,
q Kick Coming.
HE WANTS THOSE SEEDS
Secretary Morton Severely Han
died by the HumorIst OF the
OaiIatin VaIIey-A Story OF
Sweet Young Love.

Bozeman Chronicle: One by one the
roses fade and disappear-the town cow,
an early or late frost, as the case may
be. comes along during a night in
August. when we have neglected to
place a bed comforter over them, and
they are gone.
And so our fondest hopes go glim-
mering. like the prismatic dream of
striking a four-foot vein Of free mill
ing ore. when in fact we are drifting
toward a lime stone dyke.
For years It has been our good for
tune to enjoy the confidence and es-
TEEN of Montana's congressman to the
extent of becoming the recipient of a
bright colored package of water melon,
cucumber. tomato and egg plant seeds.
This entente cordiale was not broken
when our energetic and enterprising
fellow citizen went to congress-. for
each year he has plucked and packed
with his own hands the choicest of
tropical seeds and mailed them to our
address in his own frank" way.
But Secretary Morton, who is moth
ing but a tree farmer anyway; and be-
cause he could make balm of Gilead
trees grow in Nebraska, got a cabinet
position; has intruded his objections
and asserts that even this slight boon
snail DC WreSteu from us.
True, the seeds have never reached
that state of golden fruition where
we could make good our boasts of ''liv-
ing cheaply from our own garden"
But we have hoped on.
When the robin redbreast caroled
from yon Quaking Asp and the ground
squirrel chirruped to its mate, and
spring was here-according to the cal
endar-we have gone forth and SHOW
lld hA fOh oil to1
loan of our garden, and then with axe
and spade we have pulverized the soil
and planted our seeds.
Possibly nothing but giant powder
would have raised those seed; but,
this was no fault of ours. We have re-
signedly reckoned on an early spring.
But late springs have for 10 consecu-
tive years. come early and puttered
around. with a regularity that would
have been monotonous and perhaps
discouraging to a less blithesome and
hopeful nature than ours.
The one fond hope that has buoyed
us and made us shed taunts, anony-
nous letters and gossip like a sheep
herder, was the desire to be a pioneer
in the production of egg plants. Eggs
are scarce In Bozeman, and to be able
to take them fresh from the vine. has
been the one ambition of our life.
There are those who say that our
congressman ought to send us potato,
onion and rutabaga seeds. instead of
those adapted to the less rigorous
climate of Florida. But we haven't
murmured. 1t is not for US to criticise
and pass judgment on a man who for
one whole week drove a self-rake har-
vester. when a boy, down in Indiana;
and consequently knows more about
the intricacies of agriculture than the
most of us have ever dreamed of. Had
he sent us the seed of the Hot Tamale
IT would have been all the same to us.
Secretary Morton, however, is en-
titled to our severest condemnation;
besides, he does not live neighbor to
us and there is no possibility of his
seeing our structures, which is ac-
countable for a great many "roasts'
we see in public prints.