Evening star., 1921-10-23
AROUND THE CITY

Nevada desert-and the wa ter is hot.
/ cant get used to snow-coVered
mountain that steams like a teakettle
/ on boil. In d mornings walk we see
dozens of lizards. and yesterday /
| counted seven dead snakes-four
| rattlers-that had been killed by
miners. We have everything Wash
| ington could ask for in the way OF
| food-cooked by a Chinese man named
| Vat, who wears blue cambria shirt
I and sticks to his queue. Our
chambermaid is a Jap youth who
looks like a marhmallow in military
| white, and whose teeth are white as
! the snow peaks. Our laundresS is q
full-bloOded sQuaw whose government
| house is in the back garden and her
! might have Just rolled out of the
Indian collection at the museum.
Everybody takes a daily bath of
mineral steam. The arid surface is
| dug up and lattice built over the
gap. and a box placed over that
long and narrow. and as black inside.
i You go in and shut the door and the
steam rusheS UP and when you think
you have been parboiled enough, you
| take a plunge in a cold bath and
come out looking as fresh as i sum-
! mer dawn. ] wish YOU and the crowd
] really knew you.
KATE 3. CARTER"
* X ;: *
ONE day after a newspaper was on
the street and the men who had
put 1T there had gone home to rest
the best brains ever, a little old, old
lady tripped along quiet corridor
until she came to where a kept-in
woman was doing things at a desk.
She was such a timid little person
and her voice was SO plainively low
and hesitant that 1t wasn't until the
woman had invited her into a big
leather chair and said something
about the weather that she found
courage to tell why she came. Also,
in the telling she bluShed-and let
me tell you. neighbors, If you have
never seen a gray little old. old lady'
blush, you have missed a beautiful
thing.
What she wanted was to ask If
the person who wrote about old songs
would be kind enough to publish a
little thing that she composed for
her babies. She never expected to
was not intellectual, but it had
pleased her baby So
''It was such a long time ago that
my youngest would be fifty years. old
if he were living. / had only the two
both boys-but do you know. my
people who still live. and after ! read
of the old songs I thought perhaps
some young mother would ttke to
sing to her own babies the little old
verses 1 sang to mine. composed
many, but it was long time ago, my
dear. and memory. plays US tricks
when we get near the great day. But
l can recall this one that my little
one specially loved"
The kept-in woman looked over the
page of verse and promised the lit
tie old. old lady that her song should
be printed And she went away
happy in passing happiness on.
And it is because the kept-in wom-,
an knows that you, also. will share
her desire to please a little old. old
mother whose youngest baby would
be fifty years old il he were living.
here is the little song she-composed:
This little pig went to market,
, This little pig went TO market.
This little pig stayed home.
This little pig had roast beef,
This little pig had none.
This little. pig cried wee. wee, wee. all the
1t is true, children. that memory
day"-but the heart is true to love,
for ever, and ever and ever.
uNTANNIE LANCASTER: / am not
~ in the old song class, but in
reading the long-ago ballads which
you hand out now and then there
! seems to me that there was more real
/, sentiment and story interest in the
verses of. yesterday than the usual
ragtime melodies of today. I, just
4, thought I'd like to tell you.
BETH WILSON PORTER"
! X 4 +
unEAR MISS MAMIE; When I was
! a girl, way back in the late
sixties, we young people used I'd meet
! at each Others homes and sing. one
Of our favorites being a song about
The Honeysuckie Glen though am
not sure that is the title. For more
years than l like to count a snatch
Of that old melody has come to me at
| times, and since reading of the songs
! sent in to you / am hoping you Will
find some kind 'neighbor' who will
recall the words and have you prin,
! them. ELEANOR NIX"
NANNIE LANCASTER