Kingsbury County independent. (DeSmet, Kingsbury County, S.D.) 1894-1929, 1906-07-27

ness had returned to Jack, Bill went and
called In the mos whom he found to be
Jacks own people, as note:
Said Bill: cor pard, yo 1T in the right nest
When you struck that movers camp
See yer m sister, dad an the rest,
Amt yo' tickled yo' wuthless camp
Twas my mother ez sure ez you're alive,
An my sweet little sister, too,
That was born long after | came to strive
In the land o. the savage Sioux.
Twas my dad an the boys that 1 helped
that night
In the Storm on the open plain,
An sister dear that l saved (bless her
From the iire-stake's horror and pain.
They had come out west in search o. good
times;
They was purity hard up back there,
But they'd been killed es dead es oil Cap
Crimes,
II it hadn't been for mem the mare.
The folks settled down on this very ranch,
An here we all live today, -.
Right on the oil trail to Camp Commanch'
Eighty mile from there, so they say.
Little Marie, when sine had grown older,
had met a gallant young United States
army captain at Denver, which meeting
sprang into a courtship. The two were to
be welded the very day Jack was telling
his story to a drenched and wounded scout
who had just ridden up after having been
sorely pressed on his night trip across the
plains by hostile Indians and wolves and
had missed his way. Jack invited him TO
put up and stay to the wedding, stating
that he had never seen his sisters af-
fanced right at hand, closing his remarks
as follows:
She's the sweetest angel under the sky,
49, 10 InA ln,ts hnr no GIlnh
He'll be called on TO tell the reason why
I'm free to predict that much.
From hearsay he must be about your size,
An what's that? Well! you're Cap'n
Tumms!
An here comes Marie on the run. Ny eyes!
They're a huggin' like two OF chums!
Dialect or folklore poems of a sentiment
al nature are bound TO win popularity, II
they are worthy, and Mr.. Branch has
struck the popular chord In his Farmer
Jones' poems. Farmer Jones is a tall.
raw-boned Yankee. transplanted from the
rockbound hills Of New England to the
fertile prairies of Iowa In an early day. He
brought with him his Yankee frugality
and some old-fashioned Green mountain
forms of speech, which, accentuated by a
catarrhal nasal twang made still more pc
culiar by the loss of teeth, makes his con-
versation the soul Of richness, especially
when he Is in O laxative mood and a
philosophical frame of mind. Mr.. Branch
first introduced this quaint character at
an editorial convention in Dubuque in 1895,
in a poem reciting a series OF whimsical
incidents IN a printing office, entitled
Farmer Jones and the Country Editor"
The farmer had grown rich in lands and
pulled up with egotism until he aspired 10
be a county supervisor. He expected the
local paper, which he had never patron
lied, to give him a grand sendoff, but it
merely laid that Jones the m,ser wants
to run for supervisor" This, Of course,
made him hopping mad and he dashed into
the EDITORS den to thras that erring in
dividual, but he was interrupted in his
pans by numerous callers all upon err
that showed the newspaper man to
be a useful and beloved citizen N his many
to the public. Finally a mother
called whose little daughter, a great adj
mirer of the editor, had been called be-
yond.
And the editor had spoken
OF the earthly ties, now broken,
the warmest hearted words, sir,
That anybody ever heard, sir,
So" may Gods peace rest on your head"
The mother said, in a way so tender
Well, sir, / felt fur my suspender,
And tried to keep my eyes from bl.nkin',
Fur Ii got me into thinkin'
OF the one We laid away
On a sad and crushin' day
Back when me and wife was younger;
Yes, sir, l had felt the hunger
OF a heart starved by the partin'
With a little un, and felt like startin'
And a runnin' crazed and wild
When thoughts came back or that dear
child:
And his editor / hated
Fur the words that he had stated
Bout me bein' of a miser
A - ~,a-tint 20 rim fur glrnnrViS0r
This same man he wrote a notice
Bout our little dead flower, Lotus,
A kinder notice, one couldn't ask II,
OF how she looked when in the casket,
Like a sleepin' fay or a pearl settin',
And how the angels was a lett.n
or her soul into the glorieS
Told to US in Bible stories.
Such lovely words, how could he write
EN-?
We cut 'em out and saved the item,
But never thanked the writer for 1t,
And now I'd come In fur to war 1t
With the editor for sayin'
In a way that looked like playin',
Less ag'.n me than he had for 'er,
And 1t struck me Gas might a horror
On some dark and grewsome night
How perhaps that he was right
In calm of me a miser,
Fur / begun to look that size, sir,
When in a view OF re~trospection
I beheld my own complexion.
He failed to even try to thrash the ed
tor, ana became one OF MS Wdrmest
friends, changed from a money-grabber
into a generous hearted citizen. abundant
in good deeds.
This poem. written "for newspaper men
only" has proved to be one of the authors
most winning productions with the people
at large. 1t was repeated by request at
the editorial convention In Waterloo two
years ago, and although over two columns
IN length. was published In full by the
Waterloo Daily Courier.
Mr.. Branch's verses are of the kim
which when well read are exceedingly in
teresting, and as the author has been a
successful actor In amateur theatricals,
and a drawing card on the programs OF
lodge gatherings. editorial meetings, farm
ers' Institutes, religious conventions, etc,
ne certainly should be able to make a good
appearance on the lecture platform, as
he Is said to read from memory, In dra.
matte style. In a clear, strong voice.
Local lecture associations should include
aim in the course for the coming fall and
winter. And Sioux City should be first tc
introduce this brilliant son of Iowa poesy
as a public entertainer.
Bio Peanuts This Year.