The Saint Paul globe. (St. Paul, Minn.) 1896-1905, 1903-07-12

CASS LAKE, Mimi, July 2.-FolloW-
Ing the home bound steps OF 1laWatha
-treking along the trail of the Great
Northern railway, we leave st. PAU,
not on a prairie schooner, but the very
luxurious train attached to No. 2l5;
and with a rush and roar, a punching
of tickets at the gate and punching
of ribs as we squeeze through, we are
aboard and away for the Land OF
Pines the place where Eden might
have been; where Adam and Eve might
have lived and loved and Abel reared
his sheep-the country tributary to
Cass lake and its hundreds of sister
waters, all more or less charming and
picturesque.
To the right and left, as we sweep
through the outskirts of the Twin
Cities, along the river and over the
bridges, elevator and machine shop,
factory and fair grounds, school house
and mansion tell the traveller what
center of life the Minnesota capitals
are; typical of brains and brawn-the
day line in the continent where fac
tory" representing the mechanical
East, and farm" the surname for the
agricultural West, meet and clasp
hands, betokening that here in the not
very far distant future must be the
national capital when Minnesota will
reign as the queen star in the galaxy
of states and cast an effulgent light of
education, artistic skill and refinement
over nation grown to manhood, COM
pared with other nations, yet in its in
fancy, considering what it must be-
come.
Now we are out into a world of
farmsteads, cultivated fields and pas
lures fair; past sleek herds of browsing
cattle, knee deep in the rich grass that
tells of the wondrous wealth of fertil-
ity nature has stored up in hillside and
plain; past brook and meadow, quite
lake and running river, limiting to us
of lurking pickerel and toothsome bass
that are lodging through the lily pads
and ruSheS-or the brook trout, which
call up memories of our early days in
the East when, as barefooted boys, we
did not realize what kings We actually
Were
Musing about these we decide that
the gods of ED wore the brook trout
on their hemletS, not is defiance to the
foe or an object of worship, but to tell
the world that they fed on the tooth
soonest morsel ever bred by sunshine
and the living waters of the valley.
Now we are out in a twenty five
mile stretch of prairie-level as a floor
heavy with the odors of growing
crops, dotted here and there with
clumpS of bushes, where pine or two
shows US that We are just on the Dor
der land where nature has said to her
landscape gardener: place the pines
around the northern edge of my gar
den state. Tell them to cast their roots
deep into the soil and to float out their
giant branches into the sky to store up
moisture and garner the clouds that
my prairie flower beds may have rain
in season"
But the driver interrupts our dream
with another gentle pressure of the
lever, like a rider caressing his horse,
and the Great Northern flyer spurns
the earth and .deyours space at a mile
a minute, the ends of the rails beating
a tattoo on the wheels with a musical
rhythm and cadence that, combined
with the comfort of the cars, say to us
the acme of luxurious travel has
been reached.
More and more pines dot the hill
sides; now not intruders among the
naples, cottonwoods and poplars, but
the predominant spirit of the land
scape. They form the wind guard
around the farm houses, they over
hang the brooks and water courses,
and in thousands they reach away out
into the miles and miles of forest on
either hand where some day they will
give space to the myriads of homes,
the abiding place of generations Of
Yankees yet to be.
What is the STORY of the Pines" as
they sway and swing in the breeze?
We do not know it all, but this we do
known. Like the Indian who first be-
held them they must pass away to
make peace for better and more benefl-
cent condition Of things. Nature and
natures demands say so. The pines
tell it to the breeze and however we
may mourn their disappearance and
decry the lumberman, fate has fixed it
their day is DONE
Nothing but pines" say the pas
sengers, and again we look on the land
scape and see this time not the pines,
but, in the sunshine kissed spots, the
blushing pink of the wild June rose, the
gentle yellow edge of forming golden
rod petals, the snow white flag of the
partridge berry, the trumpet bells Of
the Linnaeus gentian the humblest
but handsomest flower that breathes
fragrance, the boil of Labrador tea the
dull green leaves of the BURBERRY hid
ing the blossoms that will soon burst