The Clio messenger. (Clio, Mich.) 1907-current, 1921-11-17
THE oRGANEST

BY Florence Atwater
The organest was seated at his organ
in church.
In some 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 all
day at the organ.
Whether my name might be Fairchild or
Morgan,
would play music like a vast amen,
The way ii sounds in a 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-
ii. Finally she folded the sheet Of
paper with q delicate carefulness I'M
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
BILE. 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 q
pause at the top Of that wherein the
Ion alf OF haH lat nIu
selves so odiously impressive.
Before her, If she had but taken
note of them. were a lesson in history
and the markings of profound transit
ton 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 OBJ
viously the stable was obsolete; any
body would have known from Its out
side that there was no horse within
1t. Here. visible. was the end OF the
pastoral age, 1t might be called,
from the Heidelberg jawbone to Mar
conf. The new are begins with ma
chimes that do away with laboring AMI
mails and will proceed presently to
machines doing away with laboring
men, although IL Is true that cows
may remain in vogue for some time.
In spite OF the fact that they are
already MIXED 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
sign of no special esthetic merit
above the stable door:
THE NORTH END DAILY oRIoLE.
ATWATER e. ROOTER OWNERS AND
PRoPREIToRs.
SUBSCRIBE NOW Is CENTS.
The inconsistency of the word
daily" did not trouble Florence more
over she had found no fault with
eOr1ole" 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 reclprocally 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 a relic from
an abandoned club. or secret society,