Rosebud County news. [volume] (Forsyth, Mont.) 1901-1906, 1902-09-04
THE IMMORTELLES.

and by whOmSOever manifested. Until
governmental irrigation gets under bet
ter Roadway in Montana we should
fertilize and foster every flower Of true
and tender thought that springs from
out among the prickly pears aud al.
kali soil of sordid selfishress with
which our state is overland. We should
nurture each noble impulse of inspira-
tior until it gets it's head above the sage
brush and bursts forth into the blossom
of perfect expression. God bless the
poets, we say, however humble they be,
who perfume the literature of our treas
ure state with the sweetness of their song
and cause the mu1e-eared jackass rab
bits to squat on their launches in fear
and wonder. Here is our lunch hook
to each and all and may the strings of
their harps never go bump by the
strain of disappointment and inappre
citation. We owe them our every en-
enlargement and they deserve our
greatest gratitude. Let us give our
laurels to the living, for we owe duty
to others than the dead. Modest APP
probation now is better than a monu-
ment after death. But it is not neces-
sary to be patronzing in order to be-
stow praise. We can lay our little
posies at the tootseywootseys of those
who are above us and by looking up
ward we may help even the highest.
We are led to thus moralize from hav-
ing read in last weeks limburger
cheese of Montana journalism the fol-
lowing effusion from the alleged pen
of Ira Cole. Hear! oh heavens, and
let the earth be still:
80, it's Thomas this and Thomas that
And Tom, how do you stack.
'o' oNi '',h my o'iAh, HlS ulCie tcdl,
And shall scratch your back"
One feels like throwing up both
hands and in the language of the
heroine seeing the hero weltering in a
pool of his life's blood Historically
holler out cav, my Gawd has it come
to ths!' Seems to be a sort of reciproc-
ity system of scratching. Here goes
for the second spasm:
so, it's Thomas this and Thomas that
And Thomas, are you dry?
You have your troubles. uncle mine?
Then drown them in old rye
Help help! Perlice perlice !
Shades of Tom Moore, Dante and Ana
creon look down in pity upon us and
weep. Perhaps some of these ''troubles"
are of the Montana republican stripe
and would prefer to drown in Stand
ard oil rather old rye. Now for a last
grand roundup of the unbranded nav
erick sentences that have strayed from
the main herd. Note the elegance of
irony, the concinnity of satire and the
verve of invective that the author uses
to launch his jawbone thunderbolt:
"And it's Thomas this and Thomas that
And Thomas, will you smoke?
y, lhomas, you are 4 humming bird
The whole thng-that's no Joke
''Does any one know what the damn
fool means?' Hevings, Maud, more ice
water, more fans. Now we feel better
and can break away and size up all
the condensed brainsweat in a lumD
SO it seems that a new voice is hailinp,
us from the hilltops of song-a new
note, clear and canorous. vital and
vibrant-that is destined to send more
than an evenescent echo down the Wales
of future fame. Sometimes is his
method magnihcently brutal, his senti
ment so enhancing that our soul wishes
to beat it back; but always when this
is SO it reaches its arms again to CLASH
us as strong man might press to his
heart in maSterful embrace. some sob
bling, rebellious and half repentent
mistress. All, me. a tear dropped over
dead dust is but a poor tribute at best