The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1878-08-03

cold as that!' "Well, and why not?
Oo's more likely to ave a cold than
'Amlet, always dabblin' about them
nasty, damp rampartsp"
In regard to those verses, we would
inform the Waterbury american that
we were in doubt for some time whether
they were awful poor or whether Ten
nyson wrote them. AS Tennyson's
name was not attached, and nobody
paid five dollars a line for them, proba-
bly, they were simply awful poor
Bridgeport Standard.
-Non-smokers are making a howl
about smoking on the street cars, and
yet not later than yesterday we would
have given worlds to finish valuable
cigar three for quarter-on the front
of a Sixth avenue vehicle, when the
conductor, a man with not an atom of
appreciation of the true, the beautiful
and the good toldus to put it out. "Are
we slaves, we workingmen?"- CONNER
ciGL AdUertiSer.
Monday, while one of our Office
boys was at work at his case setting
type, a full-fiedged potato bug made his
appearance and began crawling up
toward the copy" After getting in
close proximity to the MS. he stopped
and seemed to be deeply interested. 1t
seems almost incredible that this bug
could not wait until Thursday to find
out where the potato fields are located,
but, nevertheless, the above is fact
doom Herald.
| LOVES BLINDNESS.
| Now do know that Love is blind, for
| Can see no beauty on this beauteous earth,
No life, no light no hopefuness, no mirth,
| Pleasure nor purpose, when thou art not nigh.
Thy absence exiles sunshine from the sky,
Sears springs maturity, checks summers
birth,
Leaves linnets pipe as sad as plover's crv
And makes me in abundance find but dearth.
But when thy feet futter the dark, and thou
| With orient eyes dawnest on my distress,
| Suddenly sings bird on every Dough,
The Heavens expand, the earth grows less and
less,
| The ground is buoyant as the air, VOW,
And all looks lovely in thy lovliness.
Alfred Austin, IN the CormhW Magazine.
Here is a recipe for making pic
mic lemonade-First get your barrel.
Then fill it with water. Don't be mean,
put in plenty of water. Now throw a
pound of white sugar into the barrel.
Squeeze in large-sized lemon. Don't
be mean about the lemon, either, but
put the whole of it into the barrel. Stir
with long pole, and call the children
up Immediately. AS fast as they drink,
| fill the barrel with cold water. The
beverage thus made is cheap (if the
lemon is bought at wholesale) and is
quite healthy. 1t contains no pain,
and is much sought after by indulgent
mothers and young lovers. Picnic
lemonade differs from the church fair
article by having the water little
fresher.
AT THE MILL.
Daisies, over the hill
Stretched like winding sheet,
Niolets here at my feet,
Popies ablaze in the wheat,
And peace at the mill.
Thrift and content at the mill;
Grasses that bow and beat
All day with tender thrill,
At touch of the tireless feet
Fitting hither at will,
Going and coming at will,
While the Land is heavy with heat,
And the sun from her curtained seat
Looks down, insatiate Still.
Lilies under the hill
Drink of the light their fill
ANA roses are lavish of sweet,
And scatter their petals at viii,
White petals about the feet
Coming over the mill
-" Helen, "said the deep-chested Hec-
tor as he sat, one evening. on the front
doorstep and wiped the perspiration
from his mighty brow. "Why is this
weather a godsend to the beleagured
and starving sons of Troy?" "Fhats
that yer givin us?" said the ox-eyed
Helen, with piquant French accent;
"Shure, and because it'll melt the
hosts of Greece" and sweet was the
ripple of her silvery laugh. mot
much" answered the son Priam, as he
ordered up fresh gallon of ice water,
:" try again" But Helen said she must
go home and sew button on Paris
white vest and couldn't waste her time
fooling with conundrums. Because"
said the swift-footed Trojan, "because
they can get all the bacon they need by
just going out into the SUM-" And then
when Helen asked him to explain he
boxed Astyanax's ears for laughing and
went into the house muttering about
the stupidity of "these blasted foreign
ers. "-NOrtoich Bulletin.
What n Sfoudiup CnIJor MA