The Lamar register., 1915-09-29
OCTOBER


the Romans the most beautiful of the
months. 1t originally came in what is
now August, but people had so much
trouble with their cider that Numa
Pompilius made it the tenth month.
The Romans loved October, and the
more ambitious men usually tried to
be born in it. We have an example of
what that meant to them in Colonel
Roosevelt, who was born on the 9th
of October. The Romans needed mil
itary courage to keep up their en-
pire, and those who acquired mill
tary title and made their sons drill
easily rose to high place.
October was rare month in Rome.
1t was then that Coesar could be seen
going down to the simpler restaurants
on the Tiber for his pumpkin pie. The
city was full of Egyptian cigarette
princes in town for the chariot races.
One could hear Nero fiddling in the
soft moonlight, and that great epicure
Lucullus searched the market at day
break for frost ripened pawpaws. 1t
was in October that the Circus Maxi
mus was at its height, and great driv-
ers like Ben Hur reveled in the ad-
miring glances of thousands around
the cigar stores. 1t was, too, the sea-
son of plenty, and in the quiet Of the
Mediterranean twilight the divine odor
of chitlins rose over the Cataline Hill.
The Saxons called October Wynn
monat (the wine month";, but the first
prohibition campaign in the Empire
disposed of that. Horace made his
reputation in this campaign. He wrote
poetry for the vets, and while his side
lost the election the ability he dis
played in letters sufiiced to make him
famous. His ode to grape juice is one
of the finest things in Latin literature
and nothing equaling his, Wine, Red
Wine" has ever been recited at dry
entertainments. The Romans were
the only people who ever succeeded in
keeping tn liquor issue out of poll
tics. Caesar said the isolation of that
issue would make woman suffrage
practicable, but he was assassinated
by Brutus and other married men be-
fore he could work the matter out.
The festive calf will sniff the morn
And loop the loop for joy of Fall,
And from the shelter of the corn
The quail will lift its magic call.
The sun will rise a little late
And deftly circle around the sky,
The hired man will pass his plate
For seven cuts of apple pie,
The plumber will cavort about
The bank now shortly to be his,
The one-night show will venture out
To hear the vegetable whizz,
The hunters moon will softly sweep
The skies of beauty and repose,
And the time Of day will slyly peep
From almost any lady's hose.
There is no prospect in our lot sur
passing that which lies ahead, when
all the doodlebugs are not and half
the hills are painted red. The poet
will employ his wiles until he makes
his garret roar, the drummer in the
new fall styles will cast spell about
the store, the wild goose tooling down
the sky will search the reeds for sub
marines, the newlywed will blithely
buy hat beyond her husbands means
and the farmer who has tasted wealth
will put his whole place into wheat,
the hunter will impair his health by
standing water on his feet, the foot
ball coach will show his men how
Hindy crossed the river Bug, the sea-
son will return again when each sweet
day becomes drug, the love of ma
ture which bestirs itself in fall will
take the air, and the girls will sew
their summer furs around their vim
ter underwear.
The cider press will lift its voice
upon the cool and fragrant air, and
all good neutrals will rejoice for what
is manifestly fair. The Kaiser will
o. Az o11fag xrril helIpUe