Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 140, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 29 June 1917 — Kin Hubbard Essays [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

Kin Hubbard Essays

DOG DAYS AND MID-SUMMER

When th’ summer landscape takes on a scuffed an' faded appearance like a over-exposed ten dollar stuitwe know we are face t’ face with dog days, that midsummer season o’ th’ year when all livin’ things jist sorter peter out an’ languor rules supreme In shop an* mart an’ field. Th’ brawny earner with muscles o’ iron mopes about his work with a disposition t’ do so much an’ no more. Even folks with gilt edged livers succumb t*'th’ dull, warm monotony an’ freely an’ unreservedly express 'emselves as bein’ utterly and unqualifiedly indifferent as t* whether school keeps er not. Even th’ ideal wife sets th’ succotash back t’ simmer while she feels her way red an' faintin’ t’ th’ verandy fer a little breathin’ spell. In th’ dark musty parlor th’ spider embroiders his filmy lace from th’ erayon portrait o’ grandma t’ th’ hangin’ lamp with Impunity. Th’ upstairs

smells like a lumber yard an’ th’ sewin’ machine Is takin’ a much needed rest Th’ birds have quit spoohin’ _an’ the’r fledgin’s are scattered an’ gone. Dog days in a dressin’ jacket town Is th’ nearest thing t’ th’ bottom o’ a well when It comes, t’ peace an’ quiet. Th’ -only things that enliven th’ business section are a yeller flyheF an’ a pile o’ watermelons in front o’ th’ general store, (th’ season fer th’ bright red cultivator with yeller runnin’ gears havin’ closed early in July). As th’ sun rounds th’ Baptist church steeple th’ combination pustmaster an’ storekeeper sprinkles th’ melons an’ fixes th’ bell on th’ screen door an’

goes t’ sleep near th’ prunes. AcroM th’ street under th’ low boughs o’ at wide spreadin* cottonwood treein front o’ th’ Citizens’ Bank th’ oldest, inhabitant cur!g up on a bench an" positively refuses t’ be drawn out on, th’ war er th’ currency question. Atj ten o’clock th’ landlady o’ th’ Central! House crosses th’ rpad thro’ th’ dust in her bare feet carryln’ a crock. At twelve th’ dinner bells o’ the’ farm* far across th’ valley ring out an* th" livery Stable keeper throws his terbacker out an’ rinses his mouth at th* town pump an’ goes home t* dinner. At three o’clock th’ leadin’ attorney emergesT from his office over th* pool: room with th’ pockets o’ his alpaca coat bulgin’ with legal documents., Fillin’ th’ crow’n o’ bls hat with burdock leaves he ventures forth under th’ wiltin’ rays o’ th’ sun to scare some farmer. As th’ shades o’ evenin’ gather th’ wheezy notes o’ a clarinet come from th’ open window o’ th’ bandroom,

an’ fade away in th’ twilight. As th* , constable sets his ladder agin’ th* lamppost on th’ public square, th* _ clatter o’ hoofs is heard cornin’ o’er th* brow o’ th’ hill. Purty Soon Steve art* Min in a side bar buggy pull up In front o’ the ice cream parlor, an* th* evenin’s revelry begins. As they slowly wind ther way home throu’ th* quiet country lanes th’ air is heavy with th’ oder o’ overripe alderberries an’ dust. With one foot on th’ dash board an’ th’ other danglin’ carelessly on th’ outside, o’ th’ buggy, Steve throws th’ lines around th’ whip an* kisses Mln passionately as she hold* his hat.

POPULARITY

Th’ trouble with most men nn’ women who waste many a golden hour chasin’ after popularity without makin’ any noticeable headway is that they’re either lackin’ in th’ peculiarities o’ th’ genuine or money. Ther’s two kinds o’ popularity—th’ real, inexpensive, natural finish, or uncommon variety, an’ th' smilin’, smirkin’, flashy, shimmerin’ short-lived sort which depends entirely on an alert press .agent an’ one’s willln’ness t* come across. While th’ cost o’ cultivatin’ popularity an’ coaxjn’ it along thro’ its early stages is often unreasonably high, th’ expense entailed in maintainin’ it after it is supposed t’ be self sustainin’ is almost enough t’ discourage even one who has weathered th’ second year o’ his tourin’, car. Th’ ultimate obscurity that seems t’ be th’ inevitable fate o’ all who have known th’ glamor of a brief, wasteful

season o* popularity is often pathetic. T be suddenly, or even gradually, torn from those who have laughed at your jokes, those who have used you an’ fattened on your vanity, those who have got your vanity, those who have got ahead thro* your generosity an’ those who have shown you a good time no matter how much'rit cost you, la one o’ th’ common an’ pitiable spectacles o’ life. Look at th’ grand ole mansion that has been turned int’ -a boardin' house because it no longer met th’ requirements o’ th’ gay throngs whose laughter shook its great chandeliers from the’r mornin’s! T’day it is a shrine fer th’ forlorn an’ frazxled failures o’

society—fruit tree agents, has-beens an’ solicitors. How many people do you know who were once pop'Jar an’ who, thro’ some slip o’ tlf tongue, some breach o’ th", code or th’ accidental display o’ th* yeller feather, are carryin’ th’ banner t’day unmourned an’ fergotten? Popularity is fleetin’. It is here t’day an’ gone t’morrow. " It vanishes before sudden adversity like a paper dollar on Saturday night. Popularity is like a babe. It must be nursed an* cuddled lest it withers an’ fades. As it thrives its upkeep increases. Th* fickleness o’ th* American people is too well known t* ever think fer a minute that your popularity (scinched. It’s as hard t’ build up a long neglected popularity as it is t’ put a run down hotel back in th’ game. ’ T’ keep his popularity in good runnfn’ order a feller should neglect his business t’ help others. He should give beyond his means. He should put

up hammocks fer others t* enjoy. Ha should accept appointments on committees an* take a deep interest tn all movements fer th’ betterment o’ others. He should fergit who borrowed his lawn mower an’ refuse t’ run fer oflice. He should agree with ever’buddy an’ leave his opinions at home with his troubles. In other words, he should be a nice even tempered goat with • kind word an’ a good cigar fer all. Ever' time I see a widely pop’lar fel- ‘ ler surrounded by a lot o’ smiiin* coyotes I alius think o* that dear 010 lyric. TH Love YbU When Your Money’s Gene, But m Not Be With You.” (Copyright, Adatna Newspaper Iwrioal

At Three o’clock th’ Leadin’ Attorney Emerges From Hie Office Over th’ Poolroom With th’ Pockets o’ His Alpaca Coat Bulgin' With Legal Documents.: Fillin’ th’ Crown o’ His Hat With Burdock Leaves, He Ventures Forth Under th’ Wiltin’ Rays o’ th’ Sun t’ Scare Some Farmer.

Evar* Time I Bee a Widely Pop’lar Feller Surrounded by a Lot o' Smilin' Coyotes I Alius Think o’ That De*r Ole Lyric, "I'll Love You When Your Money's Gone, but I’ll Not Be With You.”