36-1 



THE IRRIGATION AGE. 



must have been about midnight when I 

 was awakened by the most frightful noise! 

 Why, I never heard anything like it in my 

 life before! Whistles, and bells, and some- 

 thing that must be guns, I thought. I had 

 heard my mistress read of a great battle 

 somewhere and of the roar of cannons and 

 so on. We cats just use our claws and 

 and teeth as nature intended, in a tight, 

 but people are so queer, they have guns 

 and cannons and swords and fight in the 

 daytime. When I heard the awful din I 

 decided people were having a battle. But 

 as near as I could understand it the battle 

 was in a foreign land, and yet here I was, 

 right in our back yard under a box and yet 

 the horrid roar kept up. My hair rose 

 with fright and I know my tail was twice 

 its usual size, I peered out cautiously and 

 seeing nothing ran up to the back door. I 

 couldn't get in, so I ran under the house, 

 soon the noise ceased and I went to sleep 

 again. Just as soon as it began to get 

 light that awful bang, bang, commenced 

 again, only it seemed very near, and I 

 could hear the children shout Oh, but 

 wasn't I frightened! I dared not venture 

 out to see what was going on, but just 

 crouched down in the darkest corner I 

 could find. By and by, after ages it 

 seemed to me I heard my mistress' famil- 

 iar voice call, "Kittle, Kittie," and I poked 

 my head out very carefully. Everything 

 was apparently just as it was the night 

 before and my mistress said, ''Come and 

 get your breakfast, little kittle," so in 

 spite of the dreadful pop, pop, bang! that 

 was going on, I ran up the steps into the 

 house. But oh, that horrid noise! I would 

 settle down to have a little drink of milk 

 when bang! would go something, and 

 away I would scamper into the front room 

 under the lounge. I heard my misstress 

 say, "Poor little kittie, he is so afraid of 

 the fire-crackers," and then she laughed. 

 I did not know what she meant and did 

 not see the joke, but I was glad to have 

 her take me up and hold me tight. Well, 

 that dreadful noise kept on and after a 

 while some one said it was the "Fourth of 

 July," whatever that may be. I only know 

 it kept on all day and I almost had heart 

 failure I was so frightened and the night 

 was worse than the one before, for the 

 queerest things could be seen in the sky. 



it made mo think the world wasco'ning to 

 an end ami I was rather glad of it. But 

 the next morning I woke up with every- 

 thing just as usual no noise, no pop bang, 

 and so I concluded that what thev called 

 the ''glorious Fourth" was just some more 

 of human being's queer notions. I hope it 

 won't come again soon though. L. W. 



FASHION NOTES. 



Fashion notes say that the old-fashioned 

 sun- bonnet is to be revived and become 

 the proper head gear for the summer girl 

 of '99. Upon reading this bit of fashion- 

 able intelligence editors wax eloquent 

 upon the beauty and becomingness of this 

 article and grow quite foolish over the 

 memories called to mind of youthful 

 sweathearts in the alluring sun bonnet- 

 When I read such idiotic drivel my blood 

 boils, and I feel constrained to arise and 

 denounce with all my feeble might that 

 abominable bit of gingham. 



Those editors are, without doubt men, 

 and therefore were never forced to wear 

 this same sun-bonnet. But with me it is 

 connected with my childhood days in 

 fact was the "thorn in my rose," the trial 

 of my life. A stiffly-starched checked 

 sun-bonnet hanging on a nail is to me a 

 reminder of past tortures, the badge of 

 past oppression and the strap fit to rank 

 with the shingle. 



It is claimed nothing is more becoming; 

 that to peep at a young face under a 

 coquettish white or pink bonnet is to fall 

 in love at once. As to my looks, of course, 

 I cannot say, not having the gift of "seeing 

 myself as others see me," but of my 

 feelings words fail me. A starched sun- 

 bonnet, rattling stiffly about yours ears to 

 the exclusion of all other sounds: with its 

 cape behind to shut out every bit of 

 breeze: its strings tied in uncomfortable 

 bows under your chin; is certainly the 

 hottest most uncomfortable abomination 

 that was ever worn on human head. 

 "Put on your sun-bonnet!" was the war 

 cry of my mother when in my early 

 childhood I ventured out of doors. It was 

 sun bonnet government with a vengence, 

 and my childish soul yearned for emanci- 

 pation from that checked horror as a slave 

 yearns for freedom. It was the cause of 

 more unhappiness than any other one 



