3i8 



RECREATION. 



"Boys," said the Colonel, helplessly, "do 



any of you happen to know of a juvenile 



lunatic asylum hereabouts from which this 



deranged youth could have escaped? 



Sonny, try to tell us where you feel bad." 



"Bad, nothin' !" said the freckled youth, 



disgusted at'the Colonel's obtuseness; "it's 



that there Recreation. All the folks up 



to town wants to take it." 



A light broke on the Colonel's mind, and 



| a grin spread over his face. 



"Come here, laddie," he said; "I don't 

 believe you have a very good outfit. Take 

 this and buy a new rod and line, and some 

 hooks that were made to fish with." He 

 shoved a dollar into the hand of the urchin 

 who, with a "Thank you, mister," started 

 off in the direction of Wickers. 



"Guess I touched them, boys," said the 

 Colonel, as he yanked a perch from the 

 water. 

 \ He had, for during the dav our camp was 

 visited by at least two-thirds, of the popu- 

 lation of Wickers. They came singly, in 

 pairs, and by the dozen. They had 

 aroused from their lethargy for the time, 

 and had rosy visions of their little town 

 surrounded by wealthy pleasure-seekers, to 

 whom they could dispose of everything 

 they wished to sell, at 3 or 4 prices. They 

 looked on the Colonel as the promoter of 

 the enterprise, and, naturally, wished to 

 stand in with him. Among the first to sub- 

 scribe was Mr. Rush, who, calmly ignoring 

 his previously expressed opinion on the 

 matter, paid for 2 subscriptions, with a 

 patronizing air, and departed. Then came 

 the red haired milliner who, with many 

 simpers and tee-hees, forked over $1. All 

 day the money flowed in. The last to sub- 

 ascribe was Mr. Duff, the shoemaker. He 

 was a little sore yet at the remarks the 

 Colonel had made in his shop and the re- 

 flections cast on his boots and shoes still 

 stuck in his crop. 

 A few days later, a check was sent the 

 „ publisher of Recreation, the amount of 

 which, together with the accompanying list 

 of more than 200 names, coming from so 

 ?small a place must have knocked that hardy 

 ''individual considerably out of line. 



Over at the Colonel's home, in the city, 

 is one of the finest pianos ever made ; it 

 is a premium for his day's hustling at 

 Wickers. 



What about the "Daisy Shooting and 

 ^Fishing Club?" Well, there wasn't any 

 -such outfit. The Colonel drew on his vivid 

 %nagination for that little fiction ; but it 

 was all right. The people got their money's 

 worth, and when the magazines were re- 

 ceived, they forgot all about the camping 

 clubs and the money they were going to 

 make selling truck to the city folk. Recre- 

 ation just hypnotized them, that's the size 

 Iqf it ! They soon relapsed into their for- 

 mer sleeny ways, and, being as slow at 

 rending as they were at everything else, 

 bv the time they had finished one issue of 

 the magazine another would show up, so 

 they had no time to kick. 



TO MY DOG. 



ROGER W. RHODES. 



What say you, Rex, old fellow, does it 



make your pulses beat, 

 Just to think of days fast coming— days 1 of 



autumn, cool and sweet— 

 When October's frosts are painting all the 



woods with colors gay, 

 And the grouse is drumming loudly on the 



hilltop far away? 



Does it make you thrill with gladness as 



across the lawn you glide, . 

 Just to think of some gray morning on the 



sun-kissed mountain side, 

 When Sir Reynard, softly stealing from his 



den, on breakfast bent, 

 Leaves behind, on grass and stubble, such 



a strong, alluring scent? 



And what say you, Rex, companion on so 



many a hard-run chase, .. 

 Does your heart not bound within you as I 



look in your bright face, 

 Calling to your mem'ry pictures of those 



bygone happy days — 

 Scenes to be re-enacted 'neath October's 

 golden haze? 



Hold yourself in patience, comrade, just a 



few more days must fly; 

 Then we'll rise some morn at daybreak — 



two blithe hunters, you and I. 

 Forth into the dawn we'll sally, with the 



old gun— still, of late— 

 Once again we'll hear its music— say, old 



fellow, can you wait ? 



The 22 long Winchester smokeless is one 

 of the best cartridges for shooting wood- 

 chucks, squirrels and grouse, as it makes 

 little noise, no smoke, and gives penetra- 

 tion enough at 100 feet to do the work. 

 As a target cartridge it is extremely accu- 

 rate up to 150 feet. 



What are the merits of the 44 Winches- 

 ter rifle cartridge? 



Dimon Lockwood, New York City. 



I am glad to learn that you are reaping 

 a good reward for your efforts, and as 

 you have succeeded in placing before the 

 sportsmen of America the best of all mag- 

 azines, I trust that your good fortune may 

 continue, and that Recreation may long 

 flourish to cheer the hearts of all true lov- 

 ers of legitimate sport. 



R. H. Mertz, Butte, Mont. 



I shoot a Colt 22 rifle and an Iver John- 

 son shot gun. Both are all right. I have 

 shot Winchester shells and cartridges and 

 they either rip open or burst at the ends. 

 Soak the game hogs right and left. 



A. O., Grand Forks, N. D. 



The Agent : I have a chronometer here 

 which records the millionth part of a sec- 

 ond. 



The Busy Man : I haven't that much 

 time to give you. — Yonkers Statesman. 



