Jog along, my brother, Jog along, I say; Keep yourself in motion,-- You needn't stop or stay; Someone will hear you And will help your song, If you do your part and always Jog along.

Jog along, my brother, Jog along I say, Doing G.o.d good service Till the final day; For He will crown you After all the wrong, With his choicest blessings, if you Jog along.

The Kingbolt Philosopher.

"There be some things," says Uncle Ezra Mudge, "that it is best to take on faith. I don't know for certain that the devil has split hoofs and a forked tail and carries a four-tined fork along with him in the hope of finding a hay-field handy; but rather than make a private appointment with him to find out, I am willing to take the word of the picture books on the subject."

Whatever weaknesses he may have, the man who is so thick-skinned that he can go on about his regular business and pay no attention to the little distractions of this life, has a great advantage in the world. The rhinoceros would not look well in a beauty show, but it can always sleep well, even if hundreds of mosquitoes are buzzing around hunting for a full meal.

Spring is that season of the year when the new plow-boy and the old plow-mule patiently learn again the world-wide difference between "haw"

and "gee."

The Harvest Time.

I.

The harvest time is over! And across the fertile plain Stand the winrows of the meadows and the stocks of golden grain; And the aching limbs of labor take the rest of happy ease From the scorching suns of noon-day in the shadows of the trees.

The harvest time is over! And the husbandman receives For the days of hard endeavor all the wealth of garnered sheaves;'

And the land of hill and valley smiles exalt with joys untold Heaping high above the stubbles in the piles of ripened gold!

Harvest time! Harvest time!

Hours of toil are told; Hill and valley both rejoice With their wealth of gold!

II.

The harvest time is over! After all the years of strife There's a joy for every sorrow and a crown for every life; And the songs of Heaven's angels on the straining soul arise As the weary foot-steps falter on the walks of Paradise.

The harvest time is over! All the struggle has surcease!

After life, the stars above us! After battle, love and peace!

And the glories of achievement that atone for sin and strife Are the sheaves of good we garner as we reap the fields of life!

Harvest time! harvest time!

Years of struggle gone, Joy shall crown the soul with light In eternal Dawn!

The Kingbolt Philosopher.

"Fer acc.u.mulatin' much experience in a short while and in a rapid manner," said Uncle Ezra Mudge, "thar is nothin' under the sun beats a-goin' to law. With only a toler'ble fair case and a good lively lawyer on the other side, a man can git enough out of one single law-suit suitably appealed, to decently equip a whole neighborhood fer at least three generations."

Mister Cantaloupe.

h.e.l.lo, Mister Canteloupe, When did you arrive?

Glad to see you, and I hope That you're all alive!

How-dy do and how-dy do!

Hope your folks are well, And are coming after you For to stay a spell!

h.e.l.lo, Mister Cantaloupe!

Please excuse my smile, But I'm just so glad, and hope You will stay awhile; Put 'er here and put 'er there!

If you've traveled far, Come with me and take a chair In the dining car!

Life is neither comedy nor tragedy, but sometimes it pushes up so close to both that it keeps a fellow on the dodge between smiles and tears.

Rainy Weather.

Our Mud Creek correspondent sends us the following items, having to do with the recent wet weather:

"Bill Hughes cut his wheat last week. He rigged up a header attachment to a row-boat, and nipped the heads off at the surface of the water.

"It rained so fast last Sat.u.r.day night at Tad Wilson's that the water couldn't all run off the roof of his new house. The water stood four inches deep on top of the comb for over half an hour. Then Tad took an ax and sharpened the comb so it would split the drops better, and the water soon ran down.

"Jem Bilkins' incubator hatched last Wednesday during the heavy rain.

Jem set only Plymouth Rock eggs; but, when they hatched, over half of his chickens were ducks. They were given web feet by an accommodating providence."

Get in the Game.