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My Favorite Month – October
by James F. Morton

October is the month for me,
The month of rare delight;
When Nature dons her richest robes,
To gladden mortal sight.

October is the month for me,
The best for work or play;
When burning heat and biting cold
Are held alike at bay.

October is the month for me,
The month of ripening fields;
When grains and luscious fruits mature,
And earth her bounty yields.

October is the month for me,
When health and vigor reign;
The tide of life most freely flows;
Our ills no more remain.

October is the month for me
The month of mirth and cheer;
The peerless ruler of the months,
The monarch of the year.

Life
by Albert Chapin

Illusions without end, a dream affair;
A fleeting state, a scene, or flux of moods;
A colored lens that paints an autumn woods;
A bubble soon to vanish in the air.

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A Tourist’s Egyptian Tale
by Louis Kleinschmidt

George Breyle came into the lounge for tea. He had just won three straight sets of deck tennis and was feeling quite elated. He sat down table with another man. As it was only the second day from Southampton he had not become acquainted with many people yet.

The other man seemed like a very nice fellow. He was tall, had iron gray hair and ruddy cheeks. His eyes were dancing all the time and he seemed to have a perpetual grin on his face.

After a little silence he said: “I suppose you’re wondering just who am. I’m an American, my name is Peter Blane, and until a few weeks ago I was the American consul to Calcutta. Who are you?”

The younger man said he was George Breyle; that he was an American actor returning from London.

“London! that’s the city!” exclaimed Peter Blane. “I’d rather live there than anywhere else in the whole world; London has all the delights of every country and all the comforts of Home. Besides, it has a charm all its own. If you have the money and know where to go you can get anything in the world. There’s a little shop in the Soho that sells the most delicious Egyptian fish outside of Cairo.

“And that’s another interesting city. Have you ever been there? No? Well some day you must go there. The first time you see it you’ll want to spend all your days there until you’ve been cheated once or twice.

“I’ll never forget my experience with those Egyptians! I was a young cub, just out of college and thought I knew everything there was to know. My Dad was sending me around the world and one of the stops was at Cairo. In the hotel lobby I heard a lot of talk about a little town not far from Cairo. I asked a friend about the town and found it to be a day’s camel ride from Cairo, and was the ‘Real thing.’ I asked about accommodations and my friend said that he knew a merchant who would put me up for the night.

“On the next day I hired a camel and driver and blithely set out with only camera, several rolls of film and a revolver. I passed several fellows I knew and they all laughed and said to watch my belongings with an eagle-eye. I grinned and said I would.

“That evening I arrived at the town. I was tired and dusty and quickly found the merchant. He put me up for the night and without any ceremony I turned into bed. All night I dreamed about camels then rose and fell perpetually.

“The next morning when I goi up, I found that my camera, my films, and my gun were missing. I looked all over my room and then as I didn’t find them, I asked my host where they were. said that he didn’t know. He suggested, however, that the French consul might be able to tell me what had become of my property.

“Without stopping to eat or shave I went out in search of the consul. On mv way to his house I bumped into my camel-driver, and he was carrying my camera and films and wearing my gun. I went over and demanded my belongings. He shrugged and walked on. He had suddenly forgotten all his French and English. I started a fuss and at once a crowd collected. A couple of native police came and took us to the French Consul’s Office.

“The consul asked a lot of of questions about the things. Both us claimed them as our own. The guide said that I hadn’t paid him and so he took the things. This seemed to be the ethical thing and the consul said that he could do no more. If I wanted to try to persuade him that they were mineI was at liberty to do so. He left us and went in search of breakfast. I tried to talk to the fellow but he turned a deaf ear to me. I sat in silence for some minutes and then decided to try force. That worked better and in a short time I had all my possessions except the films. Just as I was taking them from him the police broke in again and I was thrown in jail.

“All the rest of the day I planned all manner of tortures for those police and that camel driver. Of course I never had the chance to put my ideas into effect. The next morning was let out and given back the things – the police had taken them when they came in the second time. 1 made a bee line for Cairo, just as fast as another camel could go.

“When I told my friends about what had happened they laughed in my face. For a long time they wouldn’t tell me what was so funny but seemed to think that there had been some great joke. It wasn’t until the day I was sailing that I learned that I had just gone through the regular rigmarole every tourist went through. The whole thing was a set-up. The men I heard talking about the town in the hotel were planted there to arouse sightseers’ and tourists’ interest in the town. When the visitors got out there the some sort of thing would happen and in order to get their property again they would have to pay a lot of money. This money would be split up among everyone who helped get the tourists out there and they would try to catch another unwary person. I was told that I was lucky not to have paid for the things, but I would rather have paid all I had to that crooked camel-driver than gone through the agonies of that jail.

“Anyhow, travel is a great thing and Egypt is a great country, any way you look at it.”

Buzz Buzz

The green leaves have been touched with autumn’s breath of crimson, burnished yellow and brown gold. Indian summer is fading. The wind is stripping the trees, it howls through the tree tops and under the eaves. Corn shocks are piled high and orange pumpkins peep below. Nature’s horn of plenty overflows with another fruitful harvest. No other part of the year yields so abundantly.

I can’t remember, ever, a time I haven’t loved October. There’s just something about it. It might be compared with life. Spring and Youth, Summer and the Prime of Life, Autumn and Age. We live inexperienced youth, beautiful, exciting, captivating. We go on, a few hard knocks, living and learning never forgetting to be mirthful along the way. Then, like the harvest, at the end of a rich full life, winter closes the chapter.

There’s nothing tops the season like a hike in the autumn woods. Come back laden with golden and red leaves and scarlet berries. Arrive just in time to see the last rays of the sun fade into dusk. Watch the city lights twinkle on, one by one, looking like giant fire-flies. Then, as you draw nearer, the whole place is ablaze and you are in the midst of a bevy of Neon colors.

I’m skipping comments until I catch up with affairs and affairs. After a summer in that wild unique little city of Pocatello, Idaho, there’s much to be done. And so my friends – Au revoir, Auf Wiedersehen, Aloha. Until February gardez bein.

Philosophy Says

“The ignorant man marvels at the exceptional; the wise man marvels at the common; the greatest wonder of all is the regularity of nature.” – G. D. Boardman.

“That which we persist in doing becomes easier to do, not that the nature of the thing has changed, but that our power to do has increased.

Dream, Oh Youth – noble dreams – And your dreams shall be your profits.” – Pres. Heber J. Grant.

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The Busy Bee from Deseret
Volume 1, Number 4, October 1937

Rhoda Wallis, Editor
Salt Lake City, Utah

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