The Topeka state journal., 1913-09-02
WATERS ON WEATHER
Well Known Lawyer Throws Light on
Hot Subject.

Hot Subject.
Captain J. c.. Waters has written
the State Journal a letter about the
lno at nresentthe dronebt 10 Tha ean-
tain usually has something to say,
and he knows how to say it. He de-
clares water is a luxury, that the man
who rides the water wagon is in luck.
He gives mental suggestions for those
who are thirsty. His letter follows
/ Editor State Journal:
All reputable thermometers stand
at par, Notwithstanding governme ent
twos have been quoted as low as
95 IL.
i We are being kiln dried; our peo-
pie are becoming dessicated. The
for want of moisture. The buzzards
are fewest and fly the highest in
time of a drouth like this. The hu-
man frame is no longer two-thirds
water. Kidney complaints, bladder
troubles, dropsy and other ailments
depending on irrigation for crop
! cannot exist in the presence of pro-
! lopged drouth. The grass has be-
come useless excelsior.
! The only use of the city water
works is to show the economies of the
commissioners budget. Water is a
| luxury.
Noah and his deluge are the fur
| thest extreme the race has yet en-
countered. His freshet and our
drouth are both successes in their re-
Spective lines.
the GOODNESS available. The dust in
front of my house lies two feet thick
on the pavement I have tried to get
for thirty years. The sewers no
. longer pay tribute to our noble river
Absolute dryness probably saves us
from typhoid. The town pump never
stops its shrek when it is attempted
to be primed.
hn VII
is in luck. The trees are dying, the
fruit is shriveled: alfalfa will soon be
toe high in price for the tobacco
companies to use it in their Durham
The proprietors of second hand
FOrds, like Harvey's new one, rush
by on my street where the dust is
thickest. with mufflers on, at the
highest rate of speed their one cylin-
der can develop. making a persistent
dust like the ominous cloud that
overhangs the Cimarron river when
1t takes up its bed and walks. OF
this l do not complain, for my neigh.
borS on the other side of the street,
thank God, get it all.
The wells are dry; even the yellow
scum on the Wakarusa river plasters
the bed of that stream an inch deep.
The huge cement walls winding their
way with the river seem an insuffer-
able yoke to the man who has lost his
crops by the dry spell. How rejoiced
US Christians must be for the promised
bow set in the clouds that we were
rever, never again to be destroyed by q
flood. Take heart, by an imaginary
scene; a cloud in the southwest lined
with black and dark green; uprising,
dark and threatening; th1 low mutter
and growl of distant thunder; the zig
gag flash: the disbursement OF sun; the
cool breeze that never was found on
land or sea by an electric fan; the rain
scented with the soil, abundant and
welcome to the tired nerve and fall
ing on rich and poor alike, as one of
the Creators grea test benefactions.
Water and sleep are the standard of
creations necessities and virtues as
We'll. 1t is broken during this racking
time to take a grip on the nervous sys-
tenn and keep it from being shaken and
unstrung. We infringe on this kind of
disease and shock and it is a good
deal more of calamity than lost
crops. 1t stays. I would rather hold
my hold on things and will not let this
hot, dry spell get the better of me-
L think of the dew the long, lush
green grass: of the torrent of clear.
cold water leaping down the mountain
side, roaring, laughing and sparkling;
the bubbling spring under the messy,
overhansing rock; the brooks ripping
over their shiny pebbles where the
deer comes often and stands fetlock |
deep, taking his time to slake his !
thirst; the deep basin on the mountain |
summit where the eagle. perched on |
the topmiSt fork of a giant forester, /
sees the moving clouds on its bosom: |
the blue and green and black of shut ,
in and bottomless lakes, trimmed, fret (
ted and furbelowed with the swaying, |
moving lacery of fir and pine; the cool
marshes in whose sedges the bittern |
loiters and the loon hides The dew.
the rain the brook, the river, at last
to mingle with the billow of far seas
Let no one forget the deep well on the !
old camp meeting ground whose creak k
ing windlass lowers the bucket down
and down, and then the tedious hoist.
the thirstier one is the deeper the we'll
seems, and at last, the iron bound.
moss covered bucket teaming, brim-
ming and triekling. with its cool sweet. I
black water.
L give these as mental suggestions |
to soften the hard pulse and take the
tension out of overburdened nerves. |
and now let re end this scribble and
reach for the gourd and dip deep in
the bucket and drink to the dew, the
rain, the cloud. the storm. THE shall
lows murmur while the deeps are
dumb JOSEPH G. WATERS
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