Could Get In Much Deeper

Hello Folks! — Do you know the difference between prose and verse? There was a young girl named

Nelly, who waded in water up to her knees. That is prose. If she had gone a little deeper it would have been verse.

—o—

IT HAS happened more than once that my wife or I have been holding a baby of very tender age and someone has asked, "is this your youngest?"

—o—

MOST OF you of the first Congressional district received a questionnaire sent out by Cong. Al Quie in which he asked your opinion about 12 issues pertinent to the district.

Some of the questions and their answers went as follows. Regarding national defense, mutual aid, reciprocal trade and scientific aid for potential scholars, the answers were approximately 70 to 80 per cent in favor of present methods.

Most of the replies also were in favor of increased postal rates in order to reduce the deficit of the postal budget.

In regard to the present farm program, most believed that it was not working. Of those who did not believe in the present program, about 20 per cent favored increasing price supports. Of the farmers answering 43 per cent believed in increasing supports and 57 per cent in decreasing them. Fifty-four per cent of the farmers wanted all supports removed.

An interesting point of the survey is that while the majority wanted less interference in farm affairs, the majority wanted federal aid to education.

—o—

I LOVE to raid my wifes note books; they contain so many sweet bits of philsophy and poems. Here is one that she has. It has no signature as to who wrote it, but it pretty well hits the spot.

THE COWBOY'S PRAYER
Lord I've never lived where churches grow;
I love creation better as it stood
The day you finished it so long ago
And looked upon your work and called it good.

I know that others find you in the light
That's sifted down through tinted window panes;
And that I too; find you near tonight
In this dim, quiet starlight on the plains.

I thank thee Lord that I am placed so well,
That thou hast made my freedom so complete
That I'm no slave of whistle, clock or bell,
Or weak-eyed prisoner in walled-up street.

Just let me live my life as I've begun,
Give me work that's open to the sky,
Make me a partner with the wind and sun
And I'll not ask a place that's soft or high.

Let me be easy on the man that's down;
Make me free and generous with all;
I'm careless, Lord, sometimes when I'm in town
But never let them call me mean or small.

Make me big and open like the plains I ride,
Honest as the horse between my knees,
Clean as the wind that blows behind the rain,
Free as the hawk, which circles the breeze.

Forgive me Lord, when sometimes I forget,
You know the reasons which are hid,
You know about the things which gall and fret,
You know me better than my Mother did.

Just keep an eye on all that's said and done.
Just right me always when I torn aside,
And guide me on the long dim trail ahead
Which stretches upward, toward the great Divide.