Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1879-05-21
there a happier Christmas FEAST
than the dinner at Ampton.
A Vision Of Spring.

his emotion by whirling around OH
his back, as he lies prone upon the
manuscript before me. Somebody
left the window open and "the
wind blew it in" 1t lies prone
enough just as it looks. / whistle
up the dog of my neighbor. 1t is
a young dog, foolish in its general
habits, impulsive to a fault, usually
incorrect in its premises, faulty in
its conclusions. ] direct the atten-
ton of the dog to the struggling
wasp. and by sibilant sounds and
haunting and ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS.
endeavor to excite the unjust wrath
of the quadruped against the in
sect. am eminently successful
The instinct of the brute would
undoubtedly teach him to shun a
strong, healthy wasp, but as this
insect appears to be suffering from
a broken back, the dog is confident
OF an easy victory. After a short
Introductory overture of barks, he
advances upon the buzzing victim
and picks it up. But how shall we
despise the day Of small things I
without, the sunshine floods the
dusty thoroughfare of Eighth
street with the glory Of spring, the
maple buds unfold and the white
blossoms sparkle like summer snow
drops on the cherry trees; child
in a clean white dress and red
flannel leggins is falling down the
stairs of the house across the way,
and a man ia the lot adjoining is
trying to chase seven chickens in
to one coop, while the seven chick
ems with a fine burst of speed are
endeavoring very successfully to
distance the man in seven different
directions. No one man can head
off seven chickens under those cir
cumstances. A woman out "call-
ing" and evidently little bit lost
as to locality is standing with a
card case in her hand, patiently
knocking at the door Of a house
that has been empty nearly eight
weeks. The wasp, evidently cheer
ed and toned by the skirmish, is
wheeling airily about the room,
singing in low, soft tones the songs
of other golden summer days
How peaceful and summer like the
picture.
The dog9 All, yes! Was there,
then, dog in the scenel Memory,
memory, open thy golden gates.
All, yes! there was dog, not long
ago. Yes, l remember now. He
was here.
But there is no dog in this i'm
mediate vicinity now.
He has moved.
How like a silent bennison the
radiant sunlight falls upon the
street. Yes, / think, now, saw
him move. heard him, too, for
nv recollection is that he moved
as much with his tongue as he did
with his feet. / gaze upon the can
vas of the past, and memory limns
for me the details of his moving.
But nothing limns anything for the
dog. He doesn't need it.
He limbed it all that was neces-
sary for his own unaided self.
Upon the cloudless, pale. I'M
Swallowed blue of the April sky
above me storms will come, and the
fierce, white glare of the lightning
will frighten the radiant sunshine
and the mellow starlight. There
will be drifting clouds across the
summer days, and the smile of the
spring time will be quenched in
bitter tears.
Oh, icy sheen of winter and the
hollow sound Of the man upon the
treacherous cellar grating.
How all these things will come
and go. The changing seasons
flecked with storm and calm the
still, deep, starry summer nights,
the restless tide and the laughing
of the winds in the voiceless for
ests; laughing childhood, radian,
youth and reverend age; the bri
dial wreath and the snowy crown
upon the casket lid.
How all these things will come
and 60.
But that dog will never come
back here again. Never.
At least, not until he has heard
that that wasp is dead. Dead
Dead and buried.-Hawkeye.
| yoxx UuriaI of Sir John Mo0re.