i8 



RECREATION. 



raphers. There was a time when the pho- 

 tographer was ridiculed, but not so now. 

 Those who had cameras in that campaign 

 were requested by officers and enlisted men 

 alike to provide copies of all views at any 

 cost. I enjoyed taking views more than 

 I ever enjoyed anything else. The fact 

 that I had a camera made the campaign 

 like a big holiday to me. It drove the 

 blues from me completely, relieving the 

 monotony, even though many of the films 

 were spoiled. 



A campaigner can make considerable 

 money with his camera in these foreign 

 lands if he secures the right views and re- 

 tails them to his friends. I like to give 

 my comrades prints of their camps, iheii 

 fights, and the like, at cost, but these liberal 

 and independent fellows will not let me. 

 I say to a soldier friend, "Here is a view I 

 took, and I see that you are in it. You 

 may have a print at the cost price, perhaps 

 10 cents." He delightedly accepts a print, 

 but insists that I take 25 cents for it. I do 

 not like to take money from my comrades, 

 but they make me. 



The natives also like the views. They 

 do not concern themselves about the price. 

 You can gracefully present a print to a 

 native, say of his house, with himself 

 seated in front, and his family in the back- 

 ground. He receives the view with a 

 grunt and a smile, the little ones play with 

 it and soil it, and you think your generos- 

 ity has gone to waste; but by and by this 

 native comes to your quarters with a parcel. 

 You open the parcel and it contains for you 

 a present of a bolo, a spear, or some relic 

 that you value at many dollars. 



UNDER THE BAMBOO TREE. 



The natives are amusing. Few of them 

 are unaware what the photographer is do- 

 ing when he snaps them. By instinct they 

 know, if not otherwise. The women hide 

 their faces if in working attire, but if in 

 Sunday togs they proudly pose for the 

 view and are pleased if they are snapped 

 several times, although they may never ex- 

 pect to see the prints. Moro women have 

 often kept me waiting a long time at the 

 door until they arranged themselves for be- 

 ing pictured in American costumes. They 

 will give you no peace until you have the 

 film developed and give them a print. Then 

 they have great sport over it. They ridicule 

 the size of one another's mouths and the 

 like, and it is worth dollars to hear them. 

 Soldiers and others who wish to make life 

 worth living while serving with a regiment 

 should take their cameras with them. 



A PLACE JUST EAST OF PERSIA. 



A. L. VERMILYA. 



Ship me some place East of Persia, where 

 no callow writers dwell, 



Where no bloomin' poetasters stupid tales 

 in verses tell ; 



Where the editors are cranky, and all manu- 

 scripts decline 



That have in their addled make-up even one 

 poetic line. 



For I'm tired of all this rubbish — tired as 



ever I can be — 

 When I ope my Recreation, this is what 



I'm sure to see : 

 "There's a place a mile from Kansas, that 



is most divinely fair, 

 Where the Indians are peaceful, and will 



let you keep your hair." 



Ship me some place East of Persia, where 

 they shoot the writer man, 



Where they pitch the budding poet from the 

 desert caravan; 



For it gives me indigestion, cholera, and 



fits, sometimes, 

 When these mushy, gushing scribblers split 



themselves in bummy rhymes. 



And when my short hike is over and my 



spirit sails away, 

 Plant me somewhere, I beseech you, where 



no spiffling bards can stray ; 

 Where no magazines are published, and no 



unfledged rhymesters peep, 

 There amid great hunks of silence let me 



take my dreamless sleep. 



"Hold on, Quaker, stop your kicking!" this 



I say unto myself, 

 As I lay my pen and tablet thoughtfully 



upon the shelf; 

 "Though these poets in their frenzy write 



some most atrocious verse, 

 It is evident as can be that my rhymes are 



even worse." 



