The courier. (Lincoln, Neb.) 1894-1903, November 02, 1895, Image 2

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    THE COURIER.
Highest of all in Leavening Power. Latest U. S. Gov't Report
DnVl Baking
m, r ymrvsa
Powder
AB&OLUTELY PURE
vico to the country, and it is to be re
gretted that ho should, toward tho end
of his life, huvo marred his record by
assaying tho rolo of a demagogue.
m
Tho World-Herald made eomo un
pleasant allusion to that large and
gifted statesman, Ed Roggen, the other
boys who aro not usually interested in
politics suggested that I would bo a
good man for tho oflico to which I am
now supposed to aspire. I mildly pro
tested that I wouldn't take tho best of
fice in tho gift of the city of Omaha or
county of Douglas, but these neighbors
of mine insisted and said they were go-
day. Tho largo and gifted statesman is, ing to mention it to so-and-so who run3
as everybody knows, ono of tho chief politics in our ward for our party. They
guards of tho inner temple of tho Rose- evidently did mention it, for in a day or
that while in our ward there were two
primary tickets in the Held, I was the
choice of tho delegates on both. Upon
the morning of tho primaries I was
wuited upon by several of those named
on each ticket and was asked for con
tributions to help secure tho election of
their ticket. Of course I could not tell
them that each ticket was favorable to
me and that no matter which won they
were my delegation, ae I contributed to
tach for the solo satisfaction of Beeing
them tight each other and spend my
money in an effort to defeat my own
delegation on each side.
1 secured tho nomination. I will, if
tin campaign permits, tell you more of
it auon. A. J. Candidate.
Vote for one X.
water shrine, anil it was but natural
that tho Bee should come to his de
fense. "Mr. Roggen," says tho indig
nant Bee, "was for eight years deputy
RC-cretary of stato and was elected and
two I began to receive visits from a
class of gentlemen who I have since
learned are the individuals known to
the initiated in politics as "ward heel
ers.' This brand of distinguished
re-elected by the people of Nebraska to highwaymen has been camping on my
the honorable position of secretary of
state. No man who has over tilled that
responsible oflico left behind him a
more creditable record for capacity and
integrity." The Bee's admiration for
its targe and gifted emissary may havo
made it a bit enthusiastic over tho
emissary's ''record for capacity and in
tegrity," tho' on Becond thought, I don't
believe any one will question Mr.
Roggen 's capacity. It is really enor
mous. Some people have a capacity for
trail ever since. Their interest in me
first in my nomination and subsequent
ly in my election, is of a character truly
"touching, and their assurance of con
fidence in the probity of my character
would seem to entitle me to an immense
majority if expert testimony of this na
ture is entitled to any credence, and
who can doubt it?
One of the first gentlemen to call
upon me with a view of impressing me
with the idea that I was a born states-
one thing, some for another. Tho Bee man was a colored man by the name of
continues: "Mr. Roggen came to Omaha Henry Tar box. Mr. Tarbox insisted on
five years ago at tho solicitation of lead- shaking hands cordially and proclaimed
ing business men and property-owners confidentially and reassuringly that he
to undertake tho difficult and delicate was a friend of mine. 1 intimated that
task of organizing tho anti-prohibition I had no reason to doubt it. He
forces. There was nothing dishonorable thought that the people wanted just
or disreputable connected with his such a man as me to occupy a certain
work in that campaign." Again is the
Bee led into an irresponsible enthusiasm
through its admiration for Roggen and
his "capacity." Had the Bee been in a
office in their gift and assured me that
1 -should have his support for it, and
that of forty-six other colored men who
always had him tell them whom to vote
calm mood it would never have said for and support. He made it a point to
that Mr. Roggen came to Omaha five only recommend good men to this class
years ago at the solicitation of leading in Political science of his, and was glad
business men and property owners, of the oppoitnnity tosee that they voted
Knowing full well that Roggen, large for such an exceptional candidate as J
and gifted and capacious as he is, had would undoubtedly be. I felt flattered
been upon the rocks in this city, and
that he was taken to Omaha by Mr.
Rose water for the express purpose of
furthering Mr. Rosewater's peculiar
personal schemes, the Bee would, had
it not been carried away by its enthusi
asm, have kept perfectly quiet on this
score. It is wonderful how reckless a
little enthusiasm will make people. Mr.
Rosewater and his largo and gifted as
sistant collected a large amount of
money for the purpose of fighting pro
hibition, and it is no secret that this man
of great capacity was chief leg puller in
the cause. There has long been a sus-
at this spontaneous indorsement, intro
duced Mr. Tarbox to my partner in bus
iness and invited him to sample a box
of clear HavanaB which I had in my
desk. I told him I would give the mat
ter of my proposed candidacy due con
sideration, and if I concluded to run he
would undoubtedly hear of it. I then
began to handle the papers on my desk
as an intimation that the interview was
nearly over, when Mr. Tarbox came
nearer and in a burst of still greater
confidence informed me thit his house
rent was due and unpaid, and that as
he had not done any work for a long
picion of Etrange proceedings on the time he was a trifle short of money. If
part of Roggen in this matter, and the I could let him have $5 for a few days
enthusiastic statement that "there was t would save him moving expenses and
nothing dishonorable or disreputable would be an incident which his memory
retain till time should be no
I let him have it. His niemory
connected with his work in that cam
paign" is not convincing. The truth of
the matter is, Mr. Roggen is a great
man, but unfortunately he is not as
good as he is great, and the least said
would
more.
is not any more retentive than he ie.
He still has it.
Before the day of the primary rolled
about his good qualities the better. The around I had made so many little in
funny thing about it is a man like Rose- vestments like the foregoing tributes
water trying to give a character to a man o' a grateful candidate to a devoted and
like Roggen. fairly worshipping constituency that I
concluded to allow my friends to go
I have seldom seem, a more truthful ahead and amuse themselves at my ex
or interesting presentation of the work- pense and 6ee what they could do to
ings of "practical politics" than the fol- ward getting the nomination for me.
lowing which appeared the other day in Tbey are good rustlers,
the World-Herald: As I had ne7er been in politics before,
I am one or the men running for of- the various candidates for other offices
fice this year. It is the first time I had nothing against me, and so long be
have been a candidate; in fact, I wasn't fore my friends had made offensive and
a candidate this time; I was simply in defensive alliances with 6ome of the
the hands of my friends. A few of the leaders on both sides, with the result
LASCA.
I want free life and I want fresh air,
And I sigh for tho canter after tho
cattle,
The crack of the whips, like shots in
battle,
Tho medley of horns and hoofs and
heads
That wars and wrangles and scatters
and spreads;
Tho green beneath and the blue above.
And dash and danger, and life and
love,
And Lasca!
Lasca used to ride
On a mouse-gray mustang, close to my
6ide,
With blue e'erape and bright-belled
spur;
I laughed with joy when I looked at
her;
Little knew she of books or creeds;
An Ave Maria sufficed her needs;
Little she cared, save to be by my
side,
lo ride with me, and ever to ride,
From San Saba's shore to Lavaca's
tide,
She was as bold as the billows that
beat,
She was as wild as the breezes that
blow;
From her little head to her little feet
She was swayed, in her suppleness, to
and fro
By each gust of passion; a sapling pine
That grows on the edge of a Kansas
Her hair was darker than her eye;
And something in her suiilo and frown,
Curled crimson lip, and instep high,
Showed that there ran in each blue
vein,
Mixed with the milder Aztec strain.
The vigorous vintage of old Spain,
Tho air was heavy, the night was hot,
I sat by her side, and forgot forgot;
Forgot the herd that was taking their
rest;
Forgot that tho air was close opprest,
That the Texas norther comee sudden
and soon
In the dead of
noon;
That mice let
take fright,
And nothing on
fiiglit,
And woe to tho rider,
steed.
Who falls in front of their mad stam
pede! Was that thunder? No, by tho Lord!
I spring to my saddle without a word.
One foot on mine, and she clung be
hind. Away on a hot chase down the wind!
But never was fox hunt half so hard.
And never was steed so little spared.
For we rode for our lives. You shall
hear how we fared
In Texas, down by tho Rio Grande.
night or the blaze of
the herd at its breath
earth can stop the
and woe to the
Hew, and we urged him
left, and you have
and shoot your
bluff,
And wars with the wind when the
weather is rough,
Is like this Lasca, this love of mine,
She would hunger that 1 might eat,
Would take the bitter and leave mo l dug out a grave a few feet deep,
The mustang
on;
There is one chance
but ono
Halt, jump to ground,
horse;
Crouch under his carcass, and take your
chance;
And if the steers, in their frantic
course,
Don't batter you both to pieces at once,
You may thank your stars; if not,
good by
To the quickening kiss and the long
drawn sigh,
And tho open air and tho open cky,
In Texas, down by the Rio Grande.
The cattle gained on us and then I felt
For my old six-shooter, behind in my
belt;
Down came the mustang, and down
came we,
Clinging together, and what was the
rest?
A body that spread itBelf on my breast,
Two arms that shielded my dizzy
head,
Two lips that hard on my lips were
pressed;
Then came thunder in my ears
As over us surged the sea of steers;
Blows that beat blood into my eyes,
And when I could rise
Lasca was dead.
the sweet;
But once, when I made her jealous for
fun,
At something I'd whispered, or looked
or done,
One Sunday, in San Antonio,
To a glorious girl on the Alamo,
She drew from her girdle a dear little
dagger.
And sting of a wasp! it made me
stagger!
An inch to the left or an inch to the
right.
And I shouldn't be maundering here to
night; But she sobbed, and, sobbing, so
swiftly bound
Her torn rebose about the wound.
That 1 quite forgave her. Scratches
don't count
In Texas, down by the Rio Grande.
Her
eye was
brown;
brown a deep, deep.
And there in earth's arms I laid her to
sleep;
And where she is lying no one knows,
And the summer shines and the win
ter snows,
And for many a day the Mowers havo
spread
A pall of petals over her head;
And the little gray hawk hangs aloof
in the air.
And the sly coyote trots here and
there,
And the blacksnake glides and glitters
and slides
Into the rift in a cotton wood tree,
And the buzzard sails on,
And comes and is gone,
Stately and still as a Bbip at sea;
And I wonder why I do not care
For the things that are like the things
that were.
Does half my heart lie buried there.
In Texas, down by the Rio Grande?
F. Desprez.
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