Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1877-07-19
Summer life in the Country.

The beauties of country life has been the
theme of many writers; and poets have sung
of life in woodland bowers for centuries. But
he who finds any poetry in living near the
woods, on hot night in July, can draw tears
from a brick wall On such night, when all
nature seems preparing for storm, and sheet
lightning plays around the whole line of the
horizon, reminding one of the :insel around the
skirts of dancer, and the thermometer stands
at about 95 degrees, and the air has density
of 1.O4, it is enough to make suffering man
think with pleasure of an Arctic expedition,
and climbing the North Pole to get breath
of something fresh.
On such night, when doors and windows
are opened for breath, from out the fitful
shadow of those woods come legions of gnats
and me squitoes that rival the vampires of old.
Then does modern humanity begin to have
some idea of the plaques of poor old Pharaoh !;
which, by the way, Judge Hilton seems to
have forgotten. The air is filled with all man.
ner of flying things, that have sense and eye
sight enough to blunder around in the dark.
From bugs of the most minute proportions,
but with elephantine capabilities for inficting
torment, to beetles as large as Spitz dog,
that rush in through the open window with
buzz and whiz, and thump the wall with a
shock that causes you to jump up with the inn
preston that you have just escaped the
charge of a winged dragon. But never can
tell what started out to with such long
winded sentences as these. / will sneak up
to the foot of Parnassus and ask for
an inspiration to tell you about
A Hot Night in July.
lay upon my little bed
And dreamed, perchance slept
The air was hot, t was almost red,
And filled with gnats by hunger sped
To valiant charge around my head,
And for my blood they wept.
can not tell how long lay
With wakefuness for guest;
know that misery with me stad,
know asked, 1 know Iprayed
For some cool spot, for some cool shade
Where sleep could give me rest.
I think once did say.
Ifthis amt het it amt below
I'd pay q fancy price for snow.
Or in an Ice chest would go
And stay there until day.
At length dozed, and dreamed spied
An oven standing near,
And demons rushing from inside
Dragged me, while all in vain cried,
81 always wanted to be fried
o do not roast me here
Then awoke in sore alright
Without the strength to scream;
But rose at length and lit the light,
And vanly essayed to write
And tell of that hot July night,
And that blood curdliDg dream.
Again dozed. The gnats explored
My visage and moaned;
Moslem punched me with his sword,
And Bulls of Bashan round me roared
And paved, and as they paved they gored
Then rose up and groaued,
"Pague take the gnats and bugs with stings,
This thing is getting old
III but had pair of wings
I'd soar above these earthly things
And perch.mysef on saturn's rings,
And sit there in the cold"
IT'S a mistake that living quite
Close to the woods Is fun;
There is glory in the fight
That leaves one In such horrid plight
When Day puts out the stars of night
And lights the scorching sun.
The rhymer writes.oflove in June.
And little fancies he,
July will find him out of tune,
And longing to be sent for soon,
To visit friends mp in the moon,
Whore there's misery.
The world is vanity and vexation of spirit.
Life among these insects is bitterness. In
hopes Of an early frost, remain,
Yours, &c. JARED JALAP.