VII 



THE WASTEFUL WEST 



ONCE upon a time there was a certain tender- 

 foot of the city of Philadelphia who made a 

 pilgrimage to Montana for the sake of his 

 health. He thought he had consumption, but it was 

 only pie ; so he recovered promptly and in due time 

 returned to the ancestral halls well bronzed and 

 hearty. He brought with him certain heads of wild 

 animals, trophies of his prowess, and withal stories 

 to fit the heads. 



"These elk antlers," he explained, referring to a 

 fine pair of the collection, "are shed every year. 

 They are so large and heavy that you would not 

 think, to look at them, that the animal grows a fresh 

 set every year." This was the truth, but it was not 

 received as such. 



"My son," said his good old Quaker mother, "I 

 have raised thee to tell the truth, and thee has always 

 been a good boy ; but now I plainly see thee is lying 

 to thy old mother. It would be impossible for the 

 elk to raise such horns every year ; besides, it would 

 be a waste." 



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