THEM FENCES. 



347 



a suppleness in our walk, that miles of 

 tramping could not tire, and appetites that 

 stopped at nothing. All these were ob- 

 tained without aid from a doctor. That is 

 why sportsmen live longer and are happier 

 than mortals who fritter away their lives 

 in a race after everything but health. They 

 tell you they can not find time to hunt; 



but when disease lays hold of them they 

 generally have to spare some years from 

 the end of their lives. 



Life was given us to enjoy, and though 

 all may not take pleasure in hunting, there 

 are few who could not enjoy a sojourn in 

 the pine woods. 



THEM FENCES. 



ANNA B. PATTEN. 



They've changed things all aroun', dear 

 wife, 



Since you an' I were young; 

 I calculate, if they could do 't, 



They'd even change our tongue! 

 Thet's English — so I reckon 



They'll try an' let it be; 

 But the spilin' uv them fences 



Hez jess dumbfounded me! 



Things thet seemed mighty putty 



An' chipper in our day, 

 Our children call old fashioned 



An' cart 'em all away. 

 The stuff thet they calls rubbish 



We've loved for many a year, 

 But when it comes to fences. 



It seems oncommon queer! 



They used ter mark the boundary line 



Betwixt the farmers' land: 

 But now, what's mine an' what is his 



Is hard to understand. 

 It looks more manorlike, they say, 



To hev a full, wide sweep; 

 An' so the old snake fences 



They can't afford to keep. 



I know the young folks, in our time, 



Would trudge full many a mile, 

 But allers hed ter rest a spell 



In climbin' up the stile; 

 The boys an' gals don't reckon on 



The mischief thet they've done; 

 Since they've took away them fences 



It must spile half the fun! 



An' in the summer courtin' time — 



The choosin' uv their mate — 

 It must come most onhandy 



Athout the front yard gate; 

 Not to swing upon its hinges, 



With the gal you love the best — 

 Since they've took the picket fences 



Away with all the rest! 



It's hard to look aroun', dear wife, 



An' see the hand uv Time; 

 To miss the landmarks that we loved. 



When we wuz in our prime. 

 I s'pose we're both old fashioned too, 



We're growin' old, you know; 

 Since they've took away them fences 



It's time for us to go! 



Deacon Ironjaws (severely). — My friend, 

 do you keep the Sabbath? 



Druggist (from force of habit). — Well — 

 er — h'm ! — no; but I have something just 

 as good. — Puck. 



The words of a man's mouth tell no more 

 of the meditations of his heart than the 

 voice of a dinner-bell tells of the quality of 

 the dinner. 



He has a voice which makes the crowd 

 With wonder stand and blink; 



He talks so long, likewise so loud, 

 He has no time to think. 



— Washington Star. 



