Poem from The Evening World, January 30, 1912.
Posts tagged as “The Evening World”
It is a sorrowful piece of news that comes to us from the Hoosier State.
On a lot at Huntington, Indiana, stands a magnificent elm, one of the four largest trees in the State, and over 300 years old, which is threatened with destruction by a local church-building committee.
"I'll tell you," said Doc, when the bunch was seated in the 7:55 A.M., city bound, "I'll tell you, we've got to do something about Bolshevism; we've got to get at the source of it"--
Ellabelle Mae Doolittle, the noted poetess of Delhi, is a gentle girl. She was once heard to say she could not bear to see a bug mistreated by a small boy, even if the bug had bitten the youngster. Elisha Q. Pertle, editor of the Bazoo, called her "The Girl with the Heart and the Soul," and well she deserved this designation. But, gentle though she is, Miss Doolittle loves to read of prize fights.
The other day I stopped with a friend in a downtown restaurant for lunch. The place was crowded. It was moderate priced restaurant where hundreds of office workers go for the noonday meal.
Because his wife grew so tired at the endless task of sewing for her husband and their three children, young Elias Howe sought for some means to lighten her labors and those of all the other tired women on earth.
That was his first step toward making good - a step for which he has won the gratitude of the whole world.
When, standing alongside of President Lincoln, Andrew Johnson was inaugurated Vice President of the United States, he stood up in the Senate Chamber and throwing his voice in the dense throngs who came to hear and cheer, roared in accents that reverberated from wall to wall:
"Oh, you cockadoodles! Go back to your royal masters and tell them that in the Land of the Setting Sun you saw a tailor and a rail splitter rise to the highest peaks of human power!"
"Nobody should make love in the country."
"The potatoes have eyes, the corn ears, and the beanstalk."
From the Evening World, September 10, 1918. By Bide Dudley.