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FOR SEPTEMBER. 
(Copywright 1910 by C. H. Rieth.) 
Now softened suns a mellow luster shed, 
The laden orchards glow with tempting 
red; 
On hazel boughs the clusters hang em- 
browned, 
And with the hunting horn the fields re- 
_ sound, 
—Old September Poem. 
Well we should say so, and the 
mellow horn of Mr. Morgan will 
awake the morn, bidding us garner 
for the bins and crips in which we la- 
bor for his royal nibs. The summer 
ended and the blower on, the respite 
over and the money gone, and Rocke- 
feller as we drill along, bowing and 
hoping we are well and strong. 
The seaside sojourner will quit the 
shore, and the summer gir] will line 
up three or four conquests in puppy 
love she has around, and choose the 
one that is to go undrowned. The 
which selection from the litter born 
of summer madness she will then su- 
born with things sufficient to unlock 
its eyes, and hurry homeward with 
the gasping prize. 
The busted tourist will return 
from France with hotel stickers 
stuck upon his pants, and tarred and 
postalearded by his friends, will reap 
the penalty of what he-sends. They’ll 
waltz him up and down upon a rail, 
and alternately turn him head and 
tail, or howsoever they may best en- 
joy the views in Venice or the site of 
Troy. 
The festive calf will blithely sniff 
and snort, and deftly tip up where 
the hair is short, and in the quiet 
even afterglow the quail will pipe his 
duleet piccolo. The bold insurgent 
will insurge the more, and fill the 
planet with his dreadful roar, and 
each one betting he will not be last, 
the autumn candidates will gallop 
past. 
The new progressive and the Dem- 
ocrat, the uninsurging that are 
‘standing pat, and in the midst of 
them, unfaint of heart, our Mr. Bry- 
an on the water cart. A maze of is- 
sues, and a mass of men, and lo, a 
gallus busting now and then, and not 
especially alarmed by it, the trusts 
NORTH SHORE BREEZE 
desisting till the swarm has lit. 
The man from Elba trying to come back, 
And the poor consumer in his cul-de-sac 
Unknowing if the quaking earth portends 
Death or the near approach, perhaps, of 
friends. 
But howsoever and be it as may, 
the dread mosquito will have had its 
day, and joining Satan in its spec- 
tral growth, have made it real hell 
there for them both. The while the 
earthly remnant of it swings upon 
the window screen, and dying clings 
to that post which, though wanting 
moral fire, it still holds with its face 
against the wire. 
The sad first day of school will come to 
pass, 
And the barefoot boy will hide out in the 
grass, 
And by the time we’ve caught these mal- 
contents, 
The Crippen chase will look like thirty 
cents. 
Milady Fashion in her hobble skirt 
will stride the pavement with the 
men alert to set her right side up 
again in case she should in time turn 
turtle any place. It does beat thun- 
der what the women wear, and how 
they stick on other-people’s hair, 
constrict their middles and constrain 
their toes and what importance they 
attach to clothes. But bless us, are 
they after all to blame, or had they 
been in these things quite the same 
if Mother Eve’s first’ thought, as we 
suppose, had not been necessarily of 
clothes? Was it to be expected in 
her case that with a man somewhere 
upon the place she ever thought of 
any thing at all but gowns, slipovers, 
_or perhaps a shawl? 
But anyhow, the crawfish will have holed, 
And the pumpkin shown the faintest trace 
of gold. 
The sassafras will don a redder dress, 
And the gods will crowd around the cider 
press. 
Or prohibition or whatever will, 
here is a fountain that shall serve us 
still, a place of resting and a steal 
away out of the desert and the heat 
of day. <A place of quiet and the 
shade of palms, of irrigation and the 
soothing balms that no reformer till 
the poles embrace shall ever capture 
for a bathing place. 
The hosts of labor will parade the 
street, which will remind us of a hap- 
py feat in arbitration from the olden 
days when Julius Caesar was a sort 
of craze. It is related of that an- 
cient>time that sweet September in 
the Roman clime was hot as blazes, 
and the union file could only march 
about half a mile. 
It wasn’t anything at all, they say, 
21 
to watch the mighty pageant get 
away, the music playing and the 
flags displayed, and see it suddenly 
duck for the shade. The gasping 
drummer with his sounding .drum, 
the bronzed mechanics who perhaps 
had come a dozen squares, and in the 
frantic rout, age and apprentice 
with its tongue stuck out. 
The faint impression the proces- 
sion made on Roman capital for long 
dismayed the union leaders, when 
the serried ranks at times not even 
passed the Roman banks. And so it 
was when mighty Caesar came, and 
having found the populace aflame, he 
shoved September from the seventh 
place along to ninth, which has re- 
mained the case. He merely inter- 
changed it with July, but when he 
asked them how was that for high, 
they fairly inundated him with 
smiles, and have since been doing 
about twenty miles. 
The autumn equinox will come around, 
And Roosevelt, by that time eastward 
bound, 
Will aid it in the making of such storms 
As they may find necessary to a few re- 
forms. 
And then the sun will turn still softer yet, 
And the bold October, haying duly set 
His planes, and carefully put on his brake, 
Will see what sort of landing he can make. 
Let wonderful WASHW AX do your 
family washing; saves rubbing and 
saves the clothes; makes them clean, 
sweet and snowy white. WASHWAX 
is a new scientific compound that 
washes in hot or cold water without 
the use of soap. It is entirely harm- 
less and different from anything you 
have ever used. Send ten cents in 
stamps today for regular size by 
mail, You will be glad you tried it. 
Agents wanted to introduce WASH- 
W AX everywhere. 
Address Washwax Co., 
Mo. 
FOREST WARDEN NOTICE 
This is to inform the public that I have 
been appointed Forest Warden for Man- 
chester by Mr. F. W. Rane, State Forester, 
and I have appointed the following as my 
deputies: 
M. E. GORMAN, 
NATHAN P. MELDRUM, 
JOSEPH P. LEARY, 
LORENZO BAKER, 
JAMES SALTER, 
JACOB H. KITFIELD, 
WM. YOUNG, 
FRED’K BURNHAM, Forest Warden. 
SAMUEL H. STONE. 
164 Cabot Street, Beverly, Mass. 
Notary Public Justice of the Peace 
Oldest and Strongest English and 
American Insurance Co.s 
North Shore Real Estate a Specialty 
St. Louis, 
