Last winter Mr. Burleson was put on the appropriation committee and has secured important appropriations for his state, among them being appropriations for experiments in exterminating Johnson grass and the boll weevil; experimental stations for the cultivation of tobacco and tea; an allowance of ten thousand dollars yearly for the maintenance of a School of Mines at the State University; laws enabling Confederate Veterans who took part in the Mexican and Spanish wars to enter National Soldiers’ Homes; dam at El Paso (secured in conjunction with the efforts of Congressman Smith), thereby making Texas a participant in the appropriations for the reclamation of arid lands; the reimbursement of nearly half a million dollars for monies expended by Texas in protecting her frontier from Indian depredations.
Mr. Burleson is an expert on agricultural matters and was a member of the agricultural committee for two terms. He is also the author of the Cotton Statistics Law, by which the control of the cotton market has been wrested from the stock exchange, and the regulation of prices placed in the hands of the farmers. It is natural and right that this law, so far-reaching in its benefits, should be enacted through the efforts of a representative of our leading cotton state.
It is unnecessary to add that Mr. Burleson is possessed of a wonderful persistence and tireless energy which enable him to accomplish everything he undertakes. He takes his politics seriously and he never stops working. He is a forceful debater and makes a dramatic speech, having the eloquence of a man who believes what he says. He is noted not only for this convincing earnestness, but for the absolute accuracy of all his statements and his thorough mastery of every point he presents. He has, withal, a vast store of characteristic Western stories and his jolly wit, coupled with his loyalty to his friends, makes him one of the most popular of congressmen.
TRANSITION
The rose leaves fall on Summer’s pulsing breast,
In crimson showers they’re lightly blown along;
The south winds rock the blue bird’s dainty nest
Filled to the brim. Glad is the streamlet’s song.
An empty nest sways on a leafless bough;
Hushed is the gurgling laughter of the stream;