NORTH SHORE BREEZE 
| 
A FEW SMILES. 
“Oh, George,’’ complained the 
young wife, “it was nearly midnight 
before you got home last night.” 
“Well! well!” exclaimed her hus- 
band, “you women are so inconsistent. 
Before we were married you didn’t 
care how late I got home.” —P/zladel- 
phia Press. 
Landlady —‘“‘It is usual for my 
lodgers to pay as they go.” 
New Boarder—*“ Oh, that’s all right! 
I’m not going for a long time.’’— 
Lllustrated Bits. 
At a political meeting an excited 
Irishman had risen to yell his satisfac- 
tion. “ Sit down!” called a man be- 
hind him, twitching his coat tails. 
- “Don’t you know you're opaque?” 
“And that I’m not !”’ cried the other. 
“I’m O’Brien.” — Ex. 
“Let me show you some Japanese 
bric-a-brac,’’ said the clerk in the big 
store. ‘Oh, no,” responded the man 
with the fierce moustache. ‘I’m a 
Russian sympathizer. Don’t want 
anything from Japan’’ ‘Oh, you 
needn’t worry. All this was made in 
the United States.’’— Chicago Daily 
News. 
** Yes, he’s been quite successful as 
a guesser.”’ 
«Why, I wouldn’t pick him out as 
a good guesser.”’ 
*“Heisn’t, but he gets paid for it 
whether he guesses right or not. He’s 
a doctor.” 
“ Have you no pride?” 
‘‘Naw,”’ replied the street beggar. 
“But I’m going to layin er supply 
when it gits cheaper.”’ : 
‘¢Gets cheaper ?”’ 
“Yep. Pride, dey say, is bound ter 
have er fall.’— Chicago News. 
Her Father —‘ You’ve been calling 
at this house a long while, young man. 
Now, when is it all to end?” 
Her Suitor — ‘“‘ Why, I expect to be 
here permanently pretty soon. We're 
going to be marriedand live with you, 
you know.”’—Piiladelphia Ledger. 
Autocuted. 
“ Your husband met an accidental 
death, did he not ?”’ remarked the new 
boarder. 
“Yes,” replied the landlady. “Poor 
John tried to cross the street one day, 
and was autocuted.”— Chicago News. 
He who fights and runs away 
From awful battle scenes, 
May live to write them up some day 
For all the magazines. 
— Puck. 
THE SINGING SAND. 
Along the beach, 
Where each to each 
The wavelets talked in whispered speech, 
With idly loitering steps I strayed, 
Harkening the murmur that they made. 
Like far-off words and lauzhter, blent 
With many a wind-blown instrument. 
On either hand, 
The sunny strand 
Was one wide reach of glaring sand ; 
A silent waste without a stir, 
A bit of desert as it were — 
Desolate, voiceless, in the heat, 
But for the water at its feet. 
“‘ Ah, why,” I sighed. 
“Ts one denied 
Color and life and voice beside? 
Why one have waves with foamy crest, 
And white sails on its buoyant breast, 
While yet the other can but show 
One idler’s footsteps, to and fro?” 
Just then anear, 
My well-schooled ear 
A musical new sound could hear — 
A resonant, grinding sound, yet sweet, 
That seemed to come from ’neath my feet; 
And I was quick to understand 
I walked the fabled singing sand. 
Ah, then, no more 
That lifeless shore 
Its look of blank desertion wore; 
My fancy on its margin drew 
The prow of many a bark canoe, 
Rude wigwams rose, and here and there 
Upcurled blue smoke on the blue air. 
I seemed to see 
How blithe and free 
Ran dusky children in their glee; 
How grizzled women, old and bent, 
Toiled at the fire or in the tent, 
While warriors, sprawling at their ease, 
Looked on and smoked their pipes in peace. 
A vanished race 
With scarce a trace 
But legend now in all the place! 
Yet what a busy-peopled shore, 
If spirit eye but scanned it o’er! 
What print of keel and foot and hand, 
Here on the Indian’s singing sand! 
CLARA Doty BATES. 
Viewed as a Pastime. 
The man from Chicago looked with 
some scorn at the Brambleville ticket 
agent as he handed out a dollar bill 
and pushed it through the opening. 
«You've got a pretty lot of citizens 
to allow themselves to be charged at 
the rate of five cents a mile from here 
to Bushby ona miserable, little, crawl- . 
ing, one-horse branch road,”’ he said, 
bitingly. 
The ticket agent looked at him 
with a calmness which nothing could 
disturb. ' 
‘«‘T’d like to call your attention to 
one fact before you go on using any 
more language,”’ he Said, mildly, ‘and 
that is, that while it may be five cents 
a mile it’s only 35 cents an hour.” — 
Youth's Companion.  ~ 
The uncertainties of life make up 
its greatest charm. 
It’s wrong to imagine the world is 
against you because of a failure. 
Noted Artist Dies, 
The news of the death of Mrs. 
Henry Whitman in Boston last Sat- 
urday came as a great shock to the 
people of this section, especially at 
Beverly Farms where Mrs. Whitman 
spent her summers for a good many 
years. Death came from heart dis- 
ease at the Massachusetts General 
Hospital. 
Mrs. Whitman was well known 
among the summer colony on the 
North Shore and was _ prominently 
known in art circles in Boston. She 
loved her retreat by the shore and 
could always find an inspiration in 
the beauties of its scenery for her 
brush. Though she won renown as 
a portrait painter she has also done 
much along the line of natural 
scenery. She won national repute as 
a worker in stained glass. 
Mrs. Whitman will be greatly 
missed by the summer colony in this 
section and by the people of the 
Farms who had come tu know her as 
a friend. Her place near West 
Beach, known as “Old Place,” will 
not be opened this year. 
In her will Mrs. Whitman left 
$212,000 in public bequests, $182,000 
of which goes to colleges and univer- 
sities and $40,000 to charitable so- 
cieties. 
Master Builders’ Outing. 
The bowling club of the Master 
Builders’ association of Boston came 
down from Boston Wednesday after- 
noon and enjoyed a real old-fashioned 
clam-bake at Tuck’s Point, Manches- 
ter. Owing to the disagreeable 
weather many who had planned to 
come were kept away. 
About 30 members of the club 
came down from Boston, and these, 
with about 15 of the local contractors 
and business men, enjoyed themselves 
to the limit. The party arrived on the 
1.30 and the 3.10 trains from Boston, 
and most .of them returned on the 
6,42. 
Among those present were Albert 
Neal and George Rouse, president 
and secretary of the club, and several 
of the representative builders of Bos- 
ton. George S. Sinnicks of Manches-; 
ter made most of the arrangements 
for the outing, and the repast, pro 
nounced the best ever gotten up at 
the: picnic grounds, was the creation 
of M. C. Horton, also of Manchester. 
The dinner consisted of baked clams, 
lobsters, chicken, sweet potatoes and 
all the ‘ fixins.”’ 
A party from the master builders 
came down to Tuck’s Point two years 
ago as guests of Mr. Sinnicks, and the 
outing yesterday came as a result of 
the good time given them then. 
