tana. Two other sons are men of high character and leaders in the world of business.
As stated above, when Mrs. Duniway commenced the advocacy of equal suffrage and civil and political rights to women, equal to those of men, there was not probably one thousand voters, and still fewer women, who favored her proposition. Now at the election, Nov. 8, 1910, 36,200 men recorded their votes in favor of the equal suffrage proposition. If not yet wholly successful, Mrs. Duniway's life work has been vindicated by this great change in public sentiment. And in addition to her great work for equal suffrage, she has been instrumental in securing legislation that has given married women more control of their own earnings and property and equal rights with men in protection of their homes and children.
If a vote was taken among the great mass of readers of Oregon literature a great majority would most likely vote that Mrs. Eva Emery Dye could write the most readable and interesting book. A great many readers have been heard to say that Mrs. Dye could even make a work of "history interesting to read. Acting upon that hint, the readers of this work are given an opportunity to enjoy a fine piece of Mrs. Dye's historical composition in the chapter on Old Oregon City at the end of this volume.
As the author of "McLoughlin and Old Oregon," "McDonald of Oregon" and "The Conquest," Mrs. Dye has attained literary fame as a most charming writer of history in an interesting and original style. She too is the idolized mother of an interesting family, her oldest son being an attorney of this city; and yet finding time to prosecute literary work with great pleasure and substantial profit.
But in a different vein from all others, and from the high ideals of patriotic devotion to the safety of the nation, our fellow townsman. Col. C. E. S. Wood, soldier, lawyer and litterateur, has given the country verses of Homeric force. The poem entitled "A Prayer" written for and published in "Drift" twelve years ago, will challenge comparison with anything written by Whittier or Longfellow. We copy five stanzas of it:
God of the Nations spare us not,
Stay not the foes that rage without—
Check not the rout, the groans, the din
The carnage fierce, the maddened shout;
But on the carrion wolves within,
Great God of battle lift thy hand.
From Bloody feastings, spare us not,
But on the jackal hearts who yelp
Within the Fathers Council Halls,
Who flee before the lion's whelp
And snarl in safety from the walls.
Great God of battle lift thy hand.
From death's dark arrow, spare us not,
But purge the temple, scourge the thieves
Who barter ruthlessly, our blood,
All reckless if the pallid sheaves
Be harvested for bad or good.
But God of nation, save us clean,
Nor let the shining weapon pass
Into the soiled and selfish grasp.
Let it become a sword of glass
To wound us, shattered in our clasp.
