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The Old Songs.
Tho grand old songs of long ago!!
How clear tholr melodies;
They Beomed to bear us to the skies
On flow'ry beds of easo.
, Beneath tholr spell we fain would climb. L
Where Moses stood before, . . .
.And view with eyes by faith unloosed,, ..
Tho wondrous landscape o'er. .
I want to hear tho old time songs .
Sung with a Christian zest;
They All the heart until we feel
We'll bo forevor blest.
And when their sound fills all tho air
It seems that ev'ry soul
Is led to stand with rapturous joy
Where Jordan's w'aters roll.
No surpliced choirs can sing fonmo
Those songs of other days
Like they were sung by Christian lips
" f That loved God's name to praise. .
. They seemed to bear the weary soul
To mansions in tho skies,
And angel hands came reaching down
To wipe our weeping eyes.
The singing of tho grand old songs ,- ;
How sweet it seems to me! ';'.
It brings sweet rest to troubled breast :
On life's tempestuous sea. jo'.!? u
The grand old songs of other days; '-
The best the world canknow- n-r
He leadeth me, 0 blessed thought,f"Mf turn
Where tranquil waters flow. 'wi'v
'
The old- time songs, the old time tunes!
They touched the hearts of men, . .
? And wanderers from the fold away- ' . A
Came gladly back again.
When death shall come and I shall stand
Where sullen breakers roar,
I want the songs that mother sang .
.,? .To waft me to the shore.
- ' XX
Optimist va. Pessimist.
"The hot weather has destroyed all of our
crops.".,
"Weil, we don't have to worry about tho
piice of grain, then."
XX
What'5 In a Name.
"I see," remarked the machine poet, turning
to tho helpless passengers on the inside of tho
seat, "that Iiud Kipling, has been at it again. Been
writing more of what his admirers call 'vlrilo
verses.' Say, that fellow Kipling makes mo weary.
"Haven't read his latest eh? Well, you're in
luck. How he over got it into print gets me. Tho
drag that man has with the publishers over in
Lun'non makes mo wonder. Anybody that'd print
such slush as this latest of his has got enough
dust in his loft to save the sweet potato crop from
freezing.
"What's it about? Boer war, of course. Strikes
me that after the dottle record J. Bull has made
over in Ham's bailiwick he'd pull the knob and
drop a penny in tho slot for a new tune. But
Ruddle old boy goes right ahead .singing daffy
songs about John going to do a plenty to 'em. Just
listen to tho latest:
" 'It was our fault, and our very great fault, and
not tho judgment of heaven;
Wo made an army in our image on an island nine
by seven. r.
Which faithfully mirrored its. maker's videal,
equipment and mental attitude.
And so we got our lesson, and we ought ,jto. accept
it with gratitude.' .
"Shades of the Sweet Singer of Michigan! If
the British Tommies are as lame in tho feet as.
ttls latest of Rud's is, no wonder the Boers land
on 'om promiscuous-like so often. Why, I can
beat that kind o' verse off-hand any hour in tho
day. Don't believe it, eh? Just listen to this spur-o'-the-moment
stuff:
"It's up to us, and straight up to us, to start some
things to doin
We've got a joblot of Tommies at work and tax
payers a-going to ruin. ,
We've hustled and tussled to grab out the gold
that's hid in their precious ores,
And all wa have got to show for our work is somo
lickings from long-whiskered Boers.
"Purty poor stuff, eh? 'Course, but it aint
r,o worse than Rud's. But Rud's got a rep and I
aii.'t. If I had I could grind out that sort o' stuff
Vy the runriin' rod and get a dollar a foot f'r it.
That's what Rud gets because he's bilked the peo
ple into believin' he's a poet.
"It's all in gettin' a name, so it is. If I write
stuff like this latest spasm of Rud's and offer it to
anything but the poet'a corner of the Podunk
Weekly Banner people would say it's me for the
nanny house. But Rud writes it an' folks roll
their eyes up till the whites look like a fair
weather signal and gasp something about Rud's
being the only poet in sight along the pike.
"It's all in a name, friends, and I'm out of it."
XX
Too Busy Now.
"Did you ,pray for rain?"
"Vps "
1
..""VKell,, itj.rained; .Have you returned thanks
0 (,'Not; yet. ,I.'vjeubeen to busy selling garden
truck that was saved ,by the rain." ,.','.
XX
Superstition.
1 "Do you believe in signs?"
"Yes, when I see a boy holding up two fingers
like the letter V I'm positive that somebody's
going to get: wet."
Our Trusting Wives. , .
"I'm" proud of my husband. He is always do
ing something good and trying to conceal it."
"What's he been doing?"
"I don't know exactly, but last night in his
sleep'he rolled over and said something about
'raising the blind,' and I am sure he has been help
ing some poor, sightless man out of trouble."
ax
A Bitter Woe.
She rushed into her neighbor's houso , '.
A tale of woe to tell. ,
'Twas not of death nor famine drear4-
Her jelly wouldn't jell. "
XX
- The All-Important Question.
. The hammock swayed gently too and fro in
the balmy breezes of the June evening.
"Miss McSwat," whispered Mr. Montmorency
Kerwhilliger, leaning a little nearer, "I would fain
ask youono question."
With blushes mantling her fair face Miss
Buphronia McSwat hung her head and idly toyed
with the meshes of the net.
"Miss McSwat, you will pardon me for my pre
sumption. I " . .
"Of course I will, Mr. Kerwhilliger."
"As I was saying, Miss M'cSwat, I have known
you for several months and I have learned to "
"Yes, go on," murmured Miss McSwat as Mr.
Kerwhilliger gave signs of hesitating.
"As I was remarking, I have learned to look
upon you with something more than respect. I
have"
"Yes, yes!" whispered Miss McSwat, looking
full in,to tho face of the young man at her side,
"I was about to say that I havo learned to
respect you; to defer to your wishes; to appeal to
you. M'ay I ask you a question upon whose answer
depends the happiness not only of myself, but 08
others?"
"You may, Mr. Kerwhilliger; you may," whis
pered Miss McSwat, leaning over like the tower of
Pisa.
"And are you prepared to give me an answeu
now?"
"Yes, now."
"Miss M'cSwat Euphronia pardon my pre-
cipltancy, but" ,
"Do not hesilate, Mr. Kerwhilliger Mont
morency dear. Ask your question and' I will givo
you an answer without' delay."
As sho spoke the blushes chased themselves
over her face and her ripe, red lips were parted
in a sweet smile.
"Euphronia, answer me, answer me from tho
bottom of your heart"
"Yes, dear." '- ' . .
"Does the constitution follow the flag?" .'. '.
A World Power.
"I tell you, ain't none o' th' nations a-goin' t
tackle us," shouted the man with the faded hair,
gesticulating wildly to the assembled crowd.
"We're a world power now, an' we've got 'em
all skeered. Why, we've got a big navy, th' best
army in th' world, an' we've got more money than
we can haul in a hay wagon. We're so almighty,
big an' rich that we kin "
"Yes, we've got all them things," interrupted
a woman who had slipped into the crowd and
grasped the orator by the arm. "We're a world
power all right, but ain't got enough wood sawed
to boil Squire Richman's washin', an' if we don't
git it right away a portion o' this great nation
'ain't a-goin' t' git no dinner. Now you mosey off
home an' let Europe tremble all she wants to."
W.'m. M. !
).'.
-.
Dry Seasons Down to Date.
The following interesting statement of prev
ious dry seasons extending back to days of tho
Pilgrim fathers, has been compiled and is worth
preserving;
In the summer of 1621, twenty-four days in
succession without rain.
In 1730, forty-one days without rain.
In 1657, seventy-five days without rain.
In 1674, forty-five days in succession without
rain.
In 1688, eighty-one days in succession without
rain.
In 1694, sixty-two days without rain.
In 1705, forty days in succession without rain.
In 1715, forty-six days in succession without
rain.
In 1728, sixty-one days in succession without
rain.
In 1730, ninety-two days ,in succession with
out rain.
In 1714, seventy-two days in succession with
out rain.
In 1749, one hundred, and eight days in suc
cession without rain.
In 1755, forty-two days in succession without
rain.
In 1762, one hundred and twenty-three days
in succession without rain.
In 1773, eighty days . in succession without
rain.
In 1791, eighty-two days in succession with
out rain'. '
In 1802, twenty-three days in succession with
out rain.
In 1812, twenty-eight days in -succession with
out rain.
In 1856, twenty-four days in seccession with
out rain.
In 1871, forty-two days in succession with
put rain.
In 1875, twenty-six days in succession without
rain.
In 1876, twenty -six days in succession .with-
out rain.
It will be seen that the longest drouth that
ever occurred in America was in the summer of
1762; No rain fell from 'the 1st of May to the 1st
of September, making 123 days without rain. M'any.
cf the inhabitant's sent to England for hay and
grain. Ex.
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