The Dalles daily chronicle. [volume] (The Dalles, Or.) 1890-1948, 1896-11-16
1T WAS LADIES' DAY.
Continued from third page.

gon,' a response that had but one fault,
and that, its brevity.
Mayor Menefee told US all about "Our
City," and as he knows more about it
than anyone, be left nothing to be said.
Roger B. Sinnott handled the subject
elbow 1t Seems to be Beginner by
saying that from the time of his earliest
recollection he had thres inordinate
longings-First to own pair of red
topped boats, and when he got them he
Immediately wanted to lick the first boy
he met, and got whipped instead. His
next anguishing desire was to smoke his
first cigarette. This he accomplished
only to get in return second licking.
The third was to cast his first vote, "and
this time" said he, 'sproved the old
adage that the third time meant success.
and did not get whipped"
How 1t Seems to Be Licked'' was
responded to by one who experienced
the sensation in June in a personal de-
feat, and again in November by the de-
feat of the fused and refused party
That individual is now penciling these
lines, but his climate modesty and
blushing difidence, which are said to be
two of the most charming traits of his
lovable character forbid his saying
anything about his remarks on that oc-
casion. Indeed, treacherous memory
has already made it impossible, which
should give you, gentle reader, cause
for Thanksgiving, and if those who heard
and still survive will also kindly forget,
it will be source of thankfulness to
him.
Mr.. Hugh Gourlay gave brief his
tory Of Mark Hanna, telling who and
what he Is, and giving him credit for all
he has done, besides pointing out great
many things with which the other side
credited him.
Mr.. B. s. Huntington was to have re-
sponded to the toast "Oregon, ,"but owing
to the saddest of all causes, the death of
a loved one, he could not appear. In
stead, however, Mr.. D. H. Roberts read
the response which Mr.. Huntington had
prepared, and which showed in every
sentence the love of the writer for our
great and beautiful Oregon.
We cannot close this article without
saying just few words concerning the
bright young gentleman who so ably
filed the very difficult position CT toast
master, Mr.. F. w. Wilson. In every po.
sition in which he is placed he surprises
his friends by just exactly fitting it.
He is cool, collected, tactful, and has the
happy faculty of saying just the right
thing-and no more. The ratification
would have been a success, no doubt,
without him, since the ladies were be-
. hind it, but we detract nothing from all
that they did, in saying that he added
largely to the pleasures of the evening
by keeping the wheels moving steadily
and without friction. AS the boys all
say, "Fritz" is all right.
During the evening the band rendered
several fine selections and were heartily
applauded.
AS the different toasts were responded
to there was vigorous and hearty ap-
plause, but neither the essence of the
speeches nor the vibration of the re-
sponsive chords can be put in print.
Suffice it that at midnight, or shortly
after, the pleasant affair ended, and the
guests wended their way homewarGs
delighted with their evenings enter
tainment.
The presence of many grey-haired
veterans and the music of the band sug-
gested, and we trust will excuse, the
putting in print of the lines herewith
annexed, which might be entitled
WHEN ARTHUR BEATS THE DRUM.
The Dalles is proud of everything
That appertains to it
Proud of its women's loveliness,
Its learning, business, wit;
Proud of the talent that it has,
OF all its people, and
The essence of its proudest pride
Is proudness of It's band.
When Benton tongues the cornet
We all say, "Aint il fine?"
And when we hear Longs clarinet
We sigh, and say "Dfvine!"
We hold our breath in ecstasy
When horns are all a-hum;
But in our eyes dimness comes
When Arthur beats the drum.
There's something in the swift tattoo
That tells of other years
When Music's voice was saddened with
The weight of Sorrows tears;
When beardless youth and bearded man
Went marching side by side
To sanctify with patriots blood
The field where heroes died.
SrDl.. A.,