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to schule moren me, and she's bin a reading the Laws of Life and the Revolution and sich stuff, and I'm afeared she'l be wantin to vote or print a paper or some sich thing. I'd like to know how a woman as has younguns can go to the Poles; but Lelindy Fely she thinks they can go to the Poles as well as to meetin; she says the younguns don't hin- der them from doin what they plese, and it won't hinder 'em from voting—but I wasn't raised to vote. People think they're arful smart now-a-days wanting women to be doc- tors and sich. Why, there's a woman out here that manages a farm, kepes hired hands, and they say she's rich. I'd think she'd want a man to manage it for her. Ah! me, what's the world a comin to now, Miss Duniwa. Don't you think you better be mindin your younguns and looking after your old man than to be a printin a paper. I am an old woman and have seen a heap of the world, an I hate to see wimmin git out of their sphere—now don't be fended, cos I mean it for your good. SUSAN SOPHIAR SOFRONIA SPRIGGS. 4 The Willamette Bridge From the West Shore, January, 1887 By Stephen Maybelle In reprinting the poem the West Shore ran the following note about it: "More than 16 years ago, Stephen Maybelle, then a young and untutored bard of some native genius, who resided in East Port- land, ventured the prediction, that, among the early achievements of the progressive spirit of enterprise, a bridge would be constructed across the Willamette river at Portland. This theme he duly cele- brated in verse, and it has passed into the permanent literature of the vaporous land of Webfoot. Once upon a time when suddenly seized with the glow and fervor of poetic inspiration, Mr. Maybelle dashed off a poem, many lines in length, in which the prediction was breathed (in fact, it was repeated at the close of each stanza) that the romantic Willamette would be spanned by a bridge, and that we should all see it yet.
