THE PREDICAMENTS OF A POET. 



203 



the impossibility, under the present law 

 as to arrests, of their enforcement. 



There are already many statutes against 

 setting fires, and trespassing on the pub- 

 lic lands. Perhaps these are sufficient, as 

 far as laws go. I do not examine this ; but, 

 as to the protection of game on forest re- 

 serves, drastic laws for that purpose, to- 

 gether with better means, as above sug- 

 gested, for their enforcement, are required. 



I suggest making it an offense to enter 

 or be upon or use any portion of a forest 

 reserve for the purpose or with the intent 

 to kill, capture or pursue certain specified 

 kinds of game ; or to kill, capture, or pur- 

 sue, with intent to kill or capture, such 



game, on any portion of such reserve. I 

 should do this for the whole year as to some 

 kinds of game, at least, and make such 

 killing, capture or pursuit the evidence of 

 such purpose or intent. The latter clause, 

 as you will see, proceeds against the act 

 itself, irrespective of any trespass on the 

 lands, if, indeed, such act does not neces- 

 sarily involve a technical legal trespass. 

 This may be questionable in case, for 

 example, when one who is properly there, 

 kills game. I should insert it, at any rate, 

 and it would, with the other, operate as a 

 preventive. Respectfully, 



P. C. Knox, 

 Attorney-General. 



THE PREDICAMENTS OF A POET. 



CHARLES N. DOUGLAS. 



His lady's locks of Titian red inflamed the 



poet's soul, 

 And soon with frenzy fine, and wrapt, his 



eye began to roll. 

 He hied him home and seized his lyre, and 



gaily twanged and smote, 

 And then a matchless sonnet to those 



ruddy locks he wrote. 

 Then with his poesy to his love he 



straightway hurried back. 

 But oh ! ye Gods ! that Titian hair was 



now a raven black. 



Homeward in haste the poet hied, there 



was no time to lose ; 

 And soared Parnassan heights afresh, and 



wooed anew his muse. 

 And forthwith then he grabbed his lyre 



and smote it many a smack; 

 Then wrote his lays in frenzied praise of 



tresses raven black. 



Then, with his sonnet sought his love, alas, 



poor hapless clown ! 

 The fashions they had changed, and now 



his lady's locks were brown. 



The poet tarried not, nor wept, but has- 

 tened home full swift, 



And in the praise of nut brown hair his 

 voice right soon did lift; 



And on the parchment glowing words of 

 eloquence express 



The poet's adoration of each silken, glossy 

 tress. 



Then rushed unto his lady love, in horror 

 to behold 



That nut brown hair that once was there 

 was now peroxide gold. 



MORAL. 



While fashion sways the sex called fair 



It would be wise, mayhap, 

 In writing sonnets to their hair 



To keep all hues on tap. 



"Do yez keep an assistant to the cook?" 



" Yes " 



"And do be the assistant have a helper ?" 



^She has." 



"And have yez a kitchen maid to clane 

 up after the assistant's helper?" 



"We have." 



"Well, I'll give yez a week's trial/' — 

 Brooklyn Life, 



