Bisbee daily review., 1917-10-07

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 Thus unused the newspaper man as he sat last Sunday upon the roots of an old sycamore tree in a gorge of the Huachucas and watched the wat CTS of a mountain brook tumble over big rock and break into waves and bubbles and foam at his feet.
 And the falling water told the sim pie newspaper man a most wise and wonderful story as he sat there by its rockribbed bed that September day with the Arizona sunshine streaming about him and weaving mysterious shadows in the leaves of the jungle growth.
 Falling water will always talk to a wayside pilgrim if he will only sit still long enough and bow his head in humility to listen.
 This water came from the peaks of the Huachucas and wax still fresh and gay after it's long journey down the canyon It had been told by it's wise old mother, a gray cloud that lived above the peaks, that it must work hard all day cutting its bed deeper into the rock and then go down to the San Pedro valley at night and be swallowed by the desert sands. But it was not afraid. It flowed bravely on, spreading green grass and yellow bloom and sheltering leaf all along the way to gladden. the hearts of the people of the desert who come this far to spend a golden day. Listen to its story:
 q was born in that gray. cloud you see above the mountain top. But my mother had so. many other children that she tumbled me out of her lap and I fell upon the rocks away up yonder I am glad l fell in such a high place for l shall have a pleasant journey down to the low places where all raindrops die. I have not been idle a moment since I came to this land. If you will go up the canyon little ways you will see something of the work that my people have been doing for a few thousand years past. l have done my part. And down here you can see more of my work in these green banks and great trees and buds and blooms.
 Long years ago, in another life, T was part of a river called the Nile and I saw Cleopatra's maid, Char milan. wooed and won by an Egyp- tian soldier of the palace guard. Later fell 10 earth again in a little French stream and touched the pretty feet of Arletta, the tanners daughter. be fore she became William the Con- querers queen. I was in the river below Essling when Ney. the bravest of the brave, rode his horse into the water and defied the Austrian cannon balls. I have fallen over the dizzy heights of Niagara and have been ad- mired in the giant fastness of Yellow stone park.
 But in spite of the wonders I have ieen and the great personages with
 Nom I have come in contact, I am neither conceited or proud. I am just ! drop of water. serving my turn
 pen a thirsty earth. Somehow. now
 at I stop in this dim pool for a moment to rest and think, there comes to me the conviction that 1 am happier and more useful here than ] I have ever been before. The peo- | pie who come here to see me are so and say so many fine things about me and my simple work. i This is beautiful spot and these peO- pie are most dear and kind l hope | my old gray mother sends me here again.
 The water passed on, singing lull- aby to waltz measure, and the news paper man walked on up the canyon to the famous box" There he saw the work the water had done, and il was indeed wonderful. Deep into the living rock it had cut it's way. a ring of cuttings for every thousand years or so. Sheer ramparts two hundred feet high loomed above him. great rocks were strewn through the gorge as by a giants hand. dim, cool shad ows lurked at his shoulder. He had seen grander sights but none that he loved so we'll All those famous places that the falling water had been, they were the Shakespeares of nature. met only as the wandering rabble meet the great and admire them from a distance and pass on. knowing them not at all. But here was a Rudyard Kipling among the wonders. Big enough to be great, and yet small enough to be grasped and known and owed.
 Yes, the falling waters story rang rue. This was the most beautiful place of all. The desert people are he most appreciative. The work done lere is the most worth while
 The newspaper man loves the des- srt because of its quiet and he loves he barren mountains of Bisbee be ,ause of their strength. But when he