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About The commoner. (Lincoln, Neb.) 1901-1923 | View Entire Issue (Sept. 2, 1910)
Si The Commoner. SEPTEMBER 2, 1810 13 4M IMTH "" --- - - . i i , in mi-i i nun i i - - - - ii m i i Letters From Far-Away Friends Where is Dun Itico Buried? "Where is Dan Rico burled, any how? A few weeks ago a friend wrote us that the famous old circus man was buried in Pennsylvania. Now comes a friend with tho fol lowing: Long Branch, N. J. In Tho Com moner of July 29 I notice some one Inquiring where Dan Rice's remains were laid. Dan Rico died at Long Branch, February 12, 1900, and was buried at West Long Branch, N. J., a small village near here. Full par ticulars may bo obtained from Mrs. Jacob Showles or Captain John Clark of this place. JAMES R. SUTTON. Wanchese, N. C, July 28. "Whether Common or Not:" I love to read your page, for it interests me and gives me as much real p'eas ure and satisfaction as any part of The Commoner which is saying a good deal for your work. My favor ite song is "Nearer, My God, to Thee." If there are any sweeter words in the world, or any sweeter music to fit to them, I would go quite a ways to hear them. I could mention a number of songs that stir my soul, such as "On the other side of Jordan," "Sweet Hour of Prayer," "Jesus, Lover of My Soul," "God be with you till we meet again," and "Come to Jesus." We sing them at times at our 'meetings and it seems to stir the souls of all, especially the old brothers and sisters. Your piece about the cottage organ did mo good, as that is a great pleas ure with us now for friends and loved ones to get together, espe cially on Sunday, and sing the good old songs and have a general good time in a Christian way. There are quite a number of pianos in the com munity, but they with their high toned or "tony" music cut no ice with me. Vocal music with the old organ is good enough for me like tho old-time religion. Of course I like our modern ways and days best, but in some respects I am indeed an old timer. Hero is a funny story I heard recently. An old negro went to sleep on the train, and was snoring away with his head thrown back and his mouth open. A fun-loving trav eling man reached over and dropped a pinch of quinine on the old negro's tongue. The sleeper awoke, spat two or three times and yelled loudly for a doctor. "What's the matter?" queried the frightened conductor. "I don't know edzactly, boss, moaned tho daTkey, "but from do taste I done got in my mouth I t'ink I must a busted my gall." T. H. BAUM. Bolivar, Mo., July 27. "Whether Common or Not:" As a friend, for I claim friendship with you although I do not remember ever having met you, I take occasion to write you. I was well acquainted with your good father at Fairfield, Nebraska, where I lived for fourteen years, just south of the old Christian church. Our house was always the preacher's home. Prof. Hubbell, Prof. Aylea worth, Bro. Fowler, Bro. Henry, Bro. BaTrow, your father, and hosts of other ministers have eaten at our table and slept beneath our roof. So have Ira J. Chase, Simpson Ely, D. R. Lucas, and others. While living at Clay Center I visited my old home !n Missouri, and on my return your father met me and said: "Bro. Cox, all those people down there who have our complexions are mighty fine people." Your father and I are old friends of a half century stand ing, and I have known you for years on account of your connection with The Commoner. I voted for Mr. Bryan at Clay Center In 189G, whoi it was thought that it would be fatal to take me to the polls in a buggy, but I lived long enough to vote for him twice since then, and I'd like mighty well to live and be able to vote for him in 1912. I have writ ten a few little verses in my time, although I make no pretentions to being a poet. The following nay bo sung to the tune of "My Old Ken tucky Home," and I have given it the name of ".My Old Missouri Home:" You may sing of foreign lands, Of your home reyond the sea, Of the many friends and scenes that's dear to you; But there's none so bright and fair, There's no country anywhere Like my old Missouri home, my old Mizzoo. Chorus All hail to you, Missouri! All hail, all hail to you! I will shout your name in song, In praises loud and long, My old Missouri home, my old Mizzoo. With her fields of waving grain And her meadows fresh and green, 'Neath the sky that's arched abovo so bright and blue; With her pure and healthy air, There is none that can compare With my old Missouri home, my old Mizzoo. With her grand old Ozark hills, With their caves and rocks and rills, And her crystal springs that sparkle Tike the dew; 'Tis the place I want to stay, No matter what they say Of my old Missouri home, my old Mizzo. I have lingered many hours 'Neath the green and shady bowers, In the orchards where the Big Red Apples grew; 'Tis a picture of content That kind Providence has sent To bless my old Missouri home, my old Mizzoo. Now in kindness I will say, From this goodly land don't stray, No matter what they tell you you can do; Wherever you may roam. You will find no better home Than this old Missouri home, my old Mizzoo. And when my work is done, And my earthly race Is run, And there's nothing more my feeble hands can do; Beneath some quiet shade Let my resting place be made In my old Missouri home, ray old Mizzoo. W. J. COX. Holloway, La., July 18. "Wheth er Common or Not:" I have been a reader of The Commoner for several years and think It is a fine paper. I notice In your last Issue that you would like for us to name our fa vorite songs. "I'll remember you, lovo, in my prayors," Is to molho prettiest of them all. Tho " other day I happened across an old vol umo called "Undo John's Sunday Evening Talks," and In it I found the words of the old song you men tioned, "Pass Under tho Rod." 1 cn closo them, thinking you might get at least a part of tho pleasure I did in re-reading them: I saw a young bride in her beauty and pride, Bedecked in her snowv nrrnv? And tho bright IIubIi of joy mantled high on her cheek, And the futuro looked blooming and gay. And with woman's devotion sho laid her fond heart At tho shrino of idolatrous lovo, And sho anchored her hopes to this perish Ing earth By the chain which her tenderness wove. But I saw when thoBo heartstrings were bleeding and torn, And tho chain had been severed in two; Sho had changed her white robes for tho sables of grief, And her bloom for tho paleness of woe. But tho Healer was there, pouring balm on her heart, And wiping tho tears from her eyes; Ho strengthened tho chain He had broken in twain And fastened it firm to the skins. Thero whispered a voice 'twas the voice of her God "I lovo thee, I love thee! Pass under the rod." I saw a young mother In tenderness oena O'er tho couch of her .dear Blum boring boy; And sho kisBed tho soft lips as they murmured her name, While tho dreamer lay smiling with joy. O, sweet as tho rosebud encircled with dew, When its fragrance is flung on the air. So fresh and so bright to that mother ho seemed As he lay in his Innocence there. But I saw, when sho gazed on that samo lovely form, Palo as marble and silent and cold. But paler and colder her beautiful boy, And tho tale of her sorrow was told. But the Healer was there who had stricken her heart, And taken her treasure away; To allure her to heaven he had placed it on high, And tho mourner will sweetly obey. There had whispered a voice 'twas tho voice of God "I lovo thee, I love thee! Pass under the rod!" I saw a fond father and mother who leaned On the arm of a dear gifted son, And the star of the future grew bright to their gazo As they saw the proud placo he had won. And the fast-coming evening of life promised fair, And Its pathway grew smooth to their feet; And the starlight of love glimmered bright at the end, And the whispers of fancy were sweet. Then I saw them again bending low o'er the grave Where their hearts' dearest hope had been laid; And the star had gone down in the darkness of night, And the joy from their bosoms had fled. But the Healer was there, and His arms were nround. And Ho led them with tondoront caro, And showed them a star In tho bright upper world Twna their star shining brillinntly there. Thoy had each heard a voice 'twas tho volco of tholr God "I lovo thee, I love thee! Puhs under tho rod!" MILDRED L. PERRY. The following letter comes with out a date lino to locate it, but J am going to print it. Firstly, bccnuBo it is a good letter and, secondly, Just to givo my friend hla long-sought chanco to see his name in print: Tho funniest thing I know any thing about is tho fact that I have never yet been ablo to get my namo Into Tho Commoner, and I think it Is tho best name thero Is. You say in "Brain Leaks:" "Honestly, now. if you think your namo is In tho pa per don't you keep right on hunting until you find it?" 8ure! And for ten years I've been reading Tho Com moner and. looking for my name, and I'm becoming somewhat discour aged. But since J. J. Ulunk had such a good timo I rather think I'll keep on trying for at least ten years more. You want to know "if tho people rule why don't they got what thoy Want?" I told VOI1 n nlnln no daylight why tho trusts, for it strikes me thero Is a' "name trust" connected with Tho Commoner. If not, why hasn't my name been in before this? I think you havo your favorites that havo a favorite way of telling you your own favorite way tho things that suit a favorite idea of your own and I have looked in vain for my favorite namo among tho favorites that hop, step and side stop all over tho page liko a bunch of old hens over a pile of chicken feed. But here's a funny story to end up with, and it is a true one. Willjo Fjssler, aged 5, was sent by his father to a neighbor's on an errand. He arrived at tho neigh bor's all out of breath and greatly excited. "What's the matter, Billy?" asked tho neighbor. "O, Mr. Over holser, I saw two grasshoppers a flghtln'." "Well, which one whipped, Billy?" "Well, sir," gasped Billy, one grasshopper o't th' other grass hopper all up, an' th' other grass hopper o't a good deal of th' other one!" This happened in Johnson county, Iowa, about 1850. A short time ago "Billy," now a gray-haired citizen of Kansas, came back hero on a visit and I reminded him of the Incident. He laughed and said: "I think tho trusts will finally eat each other up Just about liko those gross hoppers." J. L. SWITZER. That's a protty good little story, but I indignantly deny that thero is any discrimination practiced in tho matter of names. Wish Brer Swltzer would call around at tho office some time and see the stacks of letters that come in. Anyhow, his ambition has been gratified, for here's his namo In big, bold capital letters. About tho time this issue of Tho Commoner reaches its readers the Architect and the '"'biggest girl" will be on the bounding billows, some where between New York City and Havana, Cuba. If we aro not too sick to rememb.'jr something about it you'll get the story. READY RELIEF Physician "Have you any aches or pains this morning?" Patient "Yes, doctor; it hurts me to breathe; In fact, tho only trouble now seems to bo with my breath." Physician "All right. I'll givo you something that will soon stop that." Good Housekeeping. tl I nf 1 i 1 I ,- ti, .. -i . f