Bismarck daily tribune. [volume] (Bismarck, Dakota [N.D.]) 1881-1916, 1913-09-16
HOW AMERICA "LOOKS" TO
ONE WHO NEVER SAW IT

/, hand in hand by the sad waves"
though l feel that there must De such
places and such lovers, for Dana GiD
son has drawn scenes which make
one understand why English noble
men gladly marry American girls.
Chicago Just Means "Pork."
From Newport | pass to Chicago
which to me means pork" That is
all. | also think of Upton Sinclair,
a little. uncertain whether his theme
was pork or canned beef, Upton Sin
clair and af1inities are SO complete
ly entangled that | cannot disasso-
ciate one from the other.
| cannot see America as small in
anything.
If | say :"American railway" l
think of t%ive.day-long journeys
through forests as vast as my W
island, over prairies which are gem
orally on fire, and cataracts which
are always in spate. Ii | say news
papers, l think of hordes OF report
ers, not Of the modest men who IN
aEngland come to the celebrity as
single swallows.
Your South and your Far North,
tool claim them Tor England, the
! England Of Good King George or OF
.he Mayflower.
I see them less clearly than New
| York, but | feel them keenly, the
former in loving wise. the latter as
might a iScotchman. Your, South,
| think of as a land Of languOr, where
| the old Queen Anne and Georgian
| houses Of our own countryside are
dotted about in green fields, powered
in flowers, in orchards, laden with
heavy fruits warmed with sunshine
and cheered by songs Of gay.hued
birds.
The women are graceful, beautiful,
lazy-they never do any work. The
men are gallant, fight duels and hunt
the fox They, too, never work.
There is a touch of Spain and an air
of France. Your South is older
than the sturdy Orange days-it is
Stuart country. 1t is beautiful, in
dolent, and I think it is absolutely
sterile, devoid of enterprise, con-
merce and industry. Indeed, l cannot
see why the busy Yankees preserve:
the land that lies south of the thirty
fifth parallel, save as historical non
ument. "
That Scotch Sunday.
Aid your North, your New Eng
land, | see it dour, redolent with the
spirit of our Covenanters. feel that
it practices the Scotch Sunday, that
it still scourges the soul as the ROM
an Catholics scourge the body. 1t is
"a harsh country, l think. l imagine
is as un-Alnerican as Cumberland.
Il feel that it is narrow, cruel, that
1t frowns on the joy of life, revels
in the JOY of death s. It and yet
makes a passing good thing out of
trade. l hear that it has manses.
Does not that show that New Eng
land is not the real, thrilling Amer
lea? It is another England.
Let me imagine an end of these
Typographical imaginings by saying
that for me you have hardly any
West. l can think of naught save an
enormous Buffalo Bill show with a
little mining. euchre, murder and
horse stealing in the Brandy Gulch
style. For me the West is merely
theatrical, it's people supers and it's
houses properties. Indeed, there IS
no concrete America for me west
of the Mississippi. Even the roping
of the broncho (who may for what
know, be- either a bull or A horse)
does not invest with reality the land
we call "the wild and woolly west"
But Isuspect that, in this phantom
country there live some millions. OF
men and women who do not vastly
differ from the Americans divine.