The Pulaskian., 1921-12-01
THE ORGANEST

Ey ftoFeHc6 AtWatef
 The orgagest Was seated at his organ
 in church,
 IR s9me beautiful woods Of maple and
 birch,
 He was very weary while he played upon
 the keys,
 But he was a great organest and always
 played with ease,
 When the soul is weary,
 And the wind is dreary,
 l would like to be an organest seated oil
 day at the organ,
 Whether my name might be Eairclild or
 Morgan,
 I would play music like vast amen.
 The way it sounds in church of men.
 Florence read her poem over seven or eight times, the deepening pleasure of her expression being evidence that repetition failed to denature this work, but, on the contrary, enhanced an ap- preciative surprise at its singular mer- it. Finally she folded the sheet of paper with a delicate carefulnesS un- usual to her, and placed it in her skirt pocket. Then she went down. stairs and out into the back yard. With thoughtful and determined eyes she obliqued her gaze over the in- tervening fences to the repellent sky line formed by the too-simple profile of her cousin Herbert's fathers sta ble. Her next action was straight forward and anything but prudish; she climbed the high board fences, one af- ter the other. until she came to a pause at the top of that whereon the two journalists had lately made them selves so odiously impressive.
 Before her, if she had but taken note of them, were lesson in history land the markings of profound trans1- tion in human evolution. Beside the old frame stable was a little brick garage, obviously put to the daily use intended by its designer. Quite as ob- viouslyathe stable was obsolete; any body would have known from it's out side that there was no horse within it. Here, visible, was the end of the pastoral age, it might be called, from the Heidelberg jawbone to Mar conf. The new age begins with ma- chimes that do away with laboring ami mals and will proceed presently to machines doing away with laboring men, although it is true that cows may remain in vogue for some time. In spite of the fact that they are already milked by electricity, the milk itself must yet be constructed by the COW.
 All this was lost upon Florence. She sat upon the fence, her gaze un- favorably, though wistfully, fixed upon a sign of no special esthetic merit above the stable door:
 THE NORTH END DAILY ORIoLE. ATWATER & ROOTER OWNERS AND
 PROHIBITIONS.
 SUBSCRIBED NOW 2 CENTS
 The inconsistency of the word "daily" did not trouble Florence; more over she had found no fault with "Oriole" until the "Owners and Pro preitors' had explained to her in the plainest terms known to their vocabu- laries that she was excluded from the enterprise. Then, indeed, she had been reciprocally explicit in regard, not only to them and certain personal characteristics of theirs which she pointed out as fundamental, but in re- gard to any newspaper which should deliberately call itself an "Oriole." The partners remained superior in manner, though unable to conceal a natural resentment; they had adopted "Oriole," not out of sentiment for the distant city of Baltimore. nor, indeed, on account of any ornithologic inter- est of their own, but as relic from an abandoned club. or secret society,