"Them millionairs kin hev all the money they want en all the fun they kin git outen it," said Uncle Ezra Mudge as he drew on his blue denim wampus and whistled for the hounds, "but I kin git more ra'al fun en pure enjoyment outen a three hour 'c.o.o.n-hunt with ole Lead then they git outen all theyr tom-foolin' aroun' with awty-mobeels en yats en summer ree-sorts en sea-side foolishness. It takes mighty leetle money ter make a man happy thet loves his work, en all the millions they kin pile up in front of him wouldn't buy a single beller from ole Lead on a hot trail!

Come on, Lead!" And the old man strode away through the clearing with all a boy's enthusiasm for the hunt.

The Little Boy Land.

I.

Away in the dim and the dusk of the years Lies the Little Boy Land of the Soul, Where the days are alight with the love that endears And the lullabies tenderly roll; Where the cares never come with their burdens of woe To the gates of the kingdom of day, And the joys are supreme as the little feet go Through the glorified path ways of play.

II.

There are beautiful curls in the realms over there; There are cheeks that are rosy and glad; There are eyes full of glee, never clouded by care, Never shadowed by tears that are sad; There are toys for the wishing,--tops, marbles and strings,-- There are ponies no hand may control; And the moments go by on their wonderful wings In the Little Boy Land of the Soul.

III.

There are mother's fond kisses, enraptured with love; There are joys never sullied with stain; There are dreams brighter far than the dreams born above, And the raptures that banish all pain; And the world is so good that it cannot be true, And its paths lead to Heart's happy goal, While the joys of content every longing imbue In the Little Boy Land of the Soul.

IV.

O, Little Boy Land! How afar into wrong From the vales of your virtues I roam!

How far, since the croon of her lullaby song I have wandered from mother and home!

But here is a heart that can never forget Where the joys of our kingdom's yet roll, And I see through the mists of the eyes that are wet All the Little Boy Land of the Soul.

Caught on the Fly.

Faith and hope count a hundred, while idleness and discouragement are getting ready to figure.

There are many different motives concealed in the various compartments of man's being, but Vanity holds the key that unlocks them all.

The Kingbolt Philosopher.

"The feller thet is so wibbly-wobbly thet he can't trust his own idees,"

said Uncle Ezra Mudge as he stopped in the midst of his wood-chopping and leaned up against a log to rest, "is the kind of a feller who never amounts ter shucks in a cow pen. It takes a man who hez kep' hisself in sich a condition thet he knows jist whut he kin depend on when the firin' begins, who allus wins in the bayonet charge. En it don't pay to fool aroun' huntin' up other people's idees before you strike hard licks. Ef you do, the chances air your wood'll be scarce when the cold days blow aroun'!" And the old man spat on his hardened palms and went on with his labor.

In the Best Society.

"It sho'ly costs like ebryti'ng to move in de bes' socieety at Saint Looey!" said a newly arrived Guthrie c.o.o.n to an old resident. "It jes'

erbout takes all de money yuh kin make to keep up wid de pace ob de high flyahs in dat ole town. So I jes' come down heah whar a pooah c.o.o.n kin hab a good time en save some ob de coin on foh dollahs a week, en git in de bes' culled socieety foh an ole banjo in de week days en two bits in de collection hat on de Sunday mohnin's!"

Be Strong to Dare.

Not he whose craven soul rejects the fight And flees abjectly from the booming strife Achieves the summits of his greatest might Upon the blood-red battle-fields of life.

Be strong to dare! And if the conflict's lost, Men boast the fight when misers count the cost!

When Mr. Money Comes to Town.

When Mister Money comes to town, The waiting thousands throng The crowded highways up and down To see him pa.s.s along; They cheer him as he pa.s.ses by, They clap with loud acclaim, And shout applauses to the sky At mention of his name.

They push and jostle with delight No matter what the day; They follow him through all the night To hear what he may say; They leave old friends divinely sweet To chase this new one down, And fall devoutly at his feet When Money comes to town.

Forgotten all the scenes of yore,-- The joys of other years; The perfect bliss that went before And gladdened toils and tears; Behold! The old things pa.s.s away, And new ones come to crown The dazzling glories of the day When Money comes to town.

O, Mister Money! What's your rush!

Why do you hurry so!

Entangled up in all the crush, I can't get next, you know!

Just come and camp with me and mine!

You'll never see us frown; To have you with us will be fine Whene'er you come to town!

Caught on the Fly.

When a man barters his honor for money, he never gets a chance to rue back.

Running this big world must be quite a job, but every man who talks politics thinks himself capable of bossing the whole works.

The next crop that needs looking up in the quotations is the length of the pole required for the persimmons about election day.