266 



RECREATION. 



into the stream. There was much diving, 

 quacking and splashing of water. We could 

 see them then, and were interested on- 

 lookers for a few moments, until the 

 twitching of our trigger fingers could no 

 longer be disregarded. We wormed our 

 way down the hill while the noise of flap- 

 ping wings and splashing water increased 

 momentarily. 



We got within 20 yards of them, and 

 were then suddenly perceived. The alarm 



was given, and simultaneously they arose 

 from the water. When about 25 yards up 

 they bunched beautifully. We poured the 

 contents of 4 barrels into them and had 

 the satisfaction of seeing 5 well fed black 

 fellows come toppling down, all cleanly 

 killed, but one. He was merely winged, 

 and gave us a blood warming chase 

 which we hugely enjoyed. Gathering 

 up our ducks we turned our faces home- 

 ward. 



WHEN THE FROST IS ON THE PUMPKIN. 



A. N. KILLG0RE. 



Up 'fore daylight, afield at six, 



Me an' my gun an' a snack t' eat. 

 With th' sun peepin' foxylike over th' 

 hill, 

 An' th' night frost powdery under my 

 feet. 

 Rooster 's crowin' way over yon', 



Houn' dog 's givin' th' rabbits a jolt, 

 Air smells ez sweet ez a basket o' 

 chips ; 

 Makes me jes' feel like a two year ol' 

 colt. 



Over th' worm fence an' through th' 

 field, 

 Down t' th' crick, consarn the luck ! 

 Must be gittin' ez blin' ez a owl — 



Shot at a rabbit an' killed a chuck. 

 Climb up th' ridge an' set down t' res', 

 Lawze, Jbut wa'nt them catbriers 

 thick,' 

 Kin hear th' hungry ol' sawmill down 

 there 

 Eatin' up hemlock a foot at a lick. 



Chipmunk's runnin' along th' stone wall, 



Squirrel's sassin' me likely ez not, 

 I seen that rabbit, but dad burn my hide, 

 Th' mornin' 's too peaceful t' bust with 

 a shot. 

 When I kin stand on a hill like this, 



An' look on th' valley all speckled an' 

 brown, 

 Seems sort o' curi'us 'at a good many 



folks 

 " Don't live in th' country 'stead o' th' 

 town. 



You fellers kin lay in your ol' feather 

 beds, 

 'Til th' sun melts th' frost all off th' 

 grass ; 

 But lemme git out when th' air's feelin' 

 cool, 

 'Cause I like t' breathe it 'fore common 

 folks has. 

 Jes' give me a gun an' 'n airly start, 



A handful o' grub an' a ca'tridge 'r two, 

 A mornin' gray an' 'n air that's sharp, 

 'N I wouldn't swap places with any o' 

 you. 



First Katydid : Why didn't you come be- 

 fore? 



Second Katydid: Were you calling? 



Was I calling? Don't you see how 

 hoarse my legs are? — Exchange. 



