1985.] ENTOMOLOGICAL NEWS. 263 



Messrs. Herpers, Laurent and H. Wenzel, made addresses. Mr. \Ven- 

 zel's talk was brief, hut to the point. 



It was unanimously decided, after discussion, to hold the next outing in 

 the Orange Mountains, in the northern part of New Jersey, and, out of 

 justice to the Philadelphia collectors, to hold it in the vicinity of that city 

 in 1897. 



The party included the following persons: Philadelphia Hoyer, Boer- 

 ner, Seiss, H. Griffith, S. Griffith, Liebeck, Trescher, Schmitz, C. John- 

 son, J. Johnson, W. Johnson, Castle, Rodd, Laurent, Fox, H. Wenzel, 

 H. Wenzel, Jr., E. Wenzel, Nell, Skinner, Reinicke. Newark Stortz, 

 Bischoff, Herpers, Weidt, Brehm, Seib. Brooklyn Smith, Roberts, 

 Meeske, Sherman, Reinoldt. New York Ottolengui. Reading Mengel. 

 Wilmington Jones. F. 



UNCLE JOTHAM'S BOARDER. 

 ANNIE TRUMBULL SLOSSON. 



I've kep' summer boarders for years and allowed 



I knovved all the sorts that there be; 

 But there come an old feller this season along, 



That turned out a beater for me. 

 Whatever that feller was arter, I vow 



I hain't got the slightest idee. 



He had an old bait net of thin, rotten stuff 

 That a minner could bite his way through; 



But he never went fishin', at least in the way 

 That fishermen gen'ally do; 



But he carried that bait net wherever he went, 

 The handle was j'inted in two. 



And the bottles and boxes that chap fetched along ! 



Why, a doctor would never want more; 

 If they held pills and physic he'd got full enough 



To fit out a medicine store. 

 And he'd got heaps of pins, drefrle lengthy and slim, 



Allers droppin' about on the floor. 



Well, true as I live, that old feller jest spent 



His hull days in loafin' about 

 And pickin' up hoppers and roaches and flies, 



Not to use for his bait to ketch trout, 

 But to kill and stick pins in and squint at and all; 



He was crazy 's a coot, th'ain't no doubt. 



He'd see a poor miller a flyin' along 



The commonest, every-day kind 

 And he'd waddle on arter it, fat as he was, 



And foller up softly ahind. 

 Till he'd flop that air bait net right over its head, 



And I'd laugh till nigh out of my mind. 



