Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1922-09-16

or converse in charming ease. dooo-
bye, New York. / am going home.
I am going to an ancient city Oh
mean and Wondering streets, Of ig-
noble coverts for mankind, extended
monotonously over many miles; OF
grimy smoke clinging closer than
blanket: of smudgy typists who know
little Of silk or powder and less OF
leisure and charming ease. Good
bye, New York. I am going home.
Goodbye to beautiful apartments
and homes. Goodbye to windows
looking far over the city as from
mountain peak. Goodbye to CEN
trail heating and radiators, fit SYM
bols of the hearts they warm! Good
bye to frequent and we'll appointed
bathrooms. glory of the plumbers
art!
Back to Ham and Eggs
Goodbye to suburban gardens
running into each other without
hedge or fence to separate friend
from friend or enemy from enemy.
Good bye to shady verandahs where
rocking chairs stand ranged in rows,
ready for reading the voluminous
Sunday papers and the Saturday
Evening Post. Goodbye, America!
am going home. I am going to
land where every mans house is
his prison-a land of open fires and
Of washing stands and slop pals.
and one bath per household at the
most: a land of fences and hedges
and walls, where people sit aloof
and see no reason to make them
selves seasick by rocking upon shore.
Goodbye, America! am going
home. Goodbye to the copious
meals-the early grapefruit. the
Cereals the eggs broken in a glass.
Good bye to oysters. large and small,
to celery and olives, besides the soup,
to sea food to sublimated viands,
to bleeding duck, to the salad course,
to the individual pie or the thick
wedge of apple pie, to the invariable
slab Of ice cream, to the coffee.
also bland with cream, to the home
brewed alcohol. 1 am going to the
land of joints and roasts and solid
pudding; the land of ham and eggs
and violet tea: the land where oys
tiers are good for suicides alone, and
where mustard grows and whiskey
flows. Goodbye. America. l am go
ing home.
A Land of Silent Toll
Good bye to the house labeled
One Hundred Years Old for the
20 itx-f
to thin woods and fields inclosed with
casual pales, old hoops and lengths
of wire. I am going to the land of
a policeman's finger, where the horse
and the bicycle still drag out in
lingering life: land Of persistent
and silent toll: a land of old villages
and towns as little like each other
as one woman is like the next; a land
where trains are short, and one sell
dom sleeps in them, for in any direc
tions within a day they whe reach
sea; land of vast and ancient trees,
OF houses time honored three centur-
les ago, of cathedrals that have been
growing for a thousand years, and of
village churches built while people
believed in God. Goodbye, America!
l am going home. Goodbye to- the
land of new language in growth, OF
split infinitives and crossbred words:
the land where a dinner jacket is
Tuxedo a spittoon a 'cuspidor';
The Cordial Strangers
Goodbye to the land where
strangers say Glad to meet YOU, sir
and really seem glad; where children
whine their little desires, and never
grow much older; where men keep
their trousers up with belts that run
through loops, and women have to
battle in stockings. 1 am going to
the land of ancient speech, where we
still say record and concord for
'rccud' and 'concud': where 'necesS-
arily' and extraordinarily must be
taken at one rush, and hedge ditch
and-rail in the hunting field; where
we do not commute or check or
page but take a season and reg
lister and send a boy round; where
we never say we are glad to meet a
stranger, and seldom are; where
humor is understatement, and irony
is our habitual resource in danger
or distress; where children are told
they are meant to pc seen and not
heard; where it is bad form to ex-
press emotion. and suspenders are
strictly feminine article of attire.
Goodbye, America. l am going
home.
The Land of Personal Freedom
Good bye to the multitudinous
papers, indefinite of opinion, cram
med with insignificant news and ask
ing you to continue a first page art
icle on page 90, column 5. Goodbye,
to the weary platitude, accepted as
wisdoms latest revelation. Goodbye
to the docile audiences that lap rhe-
toric for sustenance. Goodbye to
politicians contending for aims more
practical than principles. Goodbye
to Republican and Democrats, distin-
guishable only by mutual hatred.
Good bye to the land where Liberals
are thought dangerous and Radicals
show red. Where Mr.. Gompers is
called a Socialist ana Mr.. Asquith
would seem advanced. A land too
large for concentrated Indignation;
q land where wealth beyond the
dreams of British profiteers dwells,
dresses, gorges and luXuriates emul-
atcd and unashamed. | am going to
o land Of politics violently divergent;
q land where even Coalitions cannot
coalesce; where meetings break up
in turbulent disorder. and no plati-
tude avails to soothc the savage
breast; a land fierce for personal
freedom and indignant with rage for