nether as she came up the steps, he
"John, I'm I'm going to behave
myself!" she whispered meekly.
And the corners of her lips were
no lopger drawn down, but parted in
a 'way that uplifted all the hearts
that were there.
And then a new woman became
the queen of the new home, that
henceforth was indeed a veritable
"house of smiles!"
(Copyrightby W. G. Chapman.)
THE HIGH TRAIL ,
By Berton Braley.
I'm sick of your mobs and machinery,
I'm weary of second-hand thrills,
I'm tired of your two-by-four scenery,
Your nice little valleys and hills;
I want to see peaks that are bare
And ragged and rugged and high,
To knoty the old tang in the air again
And the-ilue of the clear western
Once more in each fiber and fold of
I feel the old wonderment brew,
And again has the- spell taken hold of
The spell of the mountains I knew;
So the city means nothing but slav
ery, And my heart is a load in my
And life will be stale and unsavory
Till I stand on the hills of the west.
Let the homebodies "hoboo" and
Poor plodders, they never can
How the fret for the hills has come
'And the fever that bids me to go
Away from traditions gone moulder
ing, Away from the paths overtrod,
To the place where the mountains
Eight up to the Archways of God!
Whilst strolling along the Rialto
with a friend, old jchap, I was intro
duced to a celebrated ventriloquist.
On assuring him that I was charmed
to meet such a famous artist, the fel
low vainly replied:
"Yep, I can toss my voice around
like a rag doll. I can let loose a war
whoop down in my gargling works
and you'll swear it was done by the
Injun on a copper cent in your vest
pocket. Most ginks can talk
through -their bonnets, but I can
plunge my sweet tenor through all
iron door. Come around to the two
bit opera this evening and watch my
crew of talking dummies do their
spiel while I squat up-stage and never
loosen my trap. Here's two ducats
for yourself and the squaw." .
"Dad, are second thoughts best?"
"So we are" told, my dear." "Then
why don't people have them first?'
-.--.-. i.. -?
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