THE IR RIGA TION AGE. Ill 



These Indians have from time immemorial supported themselves by 

 agriculture through the use of these waters; but in recent years the 

 activity of the white settlers has resulted in depriving them of the 

 water and they are reduced to penury. Thousands of dollars are be- 

 ing expended to educate these Indians, but at the same time, they are 

 forced to live in idleness and are not allowed to continue the agricul 

 ture of their forefathers. 



IRRIGATION IN RHYME. 



How dear to my heart is the prospect of riches, 

 When dizzy old age comes along by and by, 



A farm in the west with a number of ditches, 

 And life would be one constant Fourth of 

 July. 



How sweet is the sound of swift flowing waters, 

 That course near the fields of alfalfa and oats, 



A sod house to shelter my sons and my daugh- 

 ters, 

 A monster frame barn for the horses and colts. 



Thus blessed in old age life would be worth 



living; 



No failure of crops from the desolate drouth, 

 Each day would indeed be a day of thanksgiv- 

 ing; 

 A prayer in my heart and a song in my mouth. 



The best thing I know of for saving the nation, 



Is found in the creed of the people now here, 

 Whose motto is "ditching," whose pass "irriga- 

 tion," 

 Who stand up for water as some do for beor. 



No more hot winds will sweep over the prairies. 



To wilt the potatoes and wither the rye, 

 When the people dig ditches from Dundy to 



Cherry, 



And keep them bank full in the sweet bye 

 and bye. 



There'll be ample cause then for constant re- 

 joicing, 



When money is plenty and crops never fail, 

 For all will be happy and nobody voicing, 

 The gruesome refrain of calamity's wail. 



National Advocate. 



