The Monitor. [volume] (Woodstown, N.J.) 1884-1892, 1885-03-27

d lJtle surprised at nOu Delng pFalSeu IOf
this feat at the breakfast table, she in
quired, gravely.
Mamma, did you hear me not call you
last night?"
Now began long and happy days for
them all-days full ofexcitements so varied
that at the end of the summer, Fred de
clared that he had not been berrying, and
he had not had a sail; but he believed he
had done everything else that a boy could
do to rave a good time. Each of them had
a pony, and after the long delicious gallops
on the prairie; with the soft grass under
their ponies feet, not a stick or a stone in
the path to make them stumble, with the
wild, free breeze blowing in their faces, and
no need to slacken speed lest a carriage or
a bicycle should be coming around the cor
ner, they were quite sure they could never
endure to ride in a park again, and the
thought of pacing solemnly around and
around in a ring at the riding-school was
simply intolerable. Willie, of course, ap-
preciated at its true value his superior ex-
perience, and found it especially delightful
to know more than Mamma about some
things, at last. think, Uncle Philip
was his ~favorite exclamation, Mamma
thought that flock of sheep was a hedge
fencel' or, ''Uncle Phillip! Uncle Philip.
just look at Mamma, out on the range with
a parasol! Isn't she a tender-foot!"
One amusement was watching the great
focks of sheep with the merry little lambs
going in and out of the corrals night and
morning. Then came the excitement of
shearing-time, and loading the great wag-
ons with heavy bags OF wool to be sent to
New York and Boston. There were fewer
wild flowers as the summer heat increased:
but after the wild flowers came the great
harvests of grain, and the children-the
elders. too, for that matter-were never
weary of watching the wonderful machines,
almost human in their intelligence, SO it
seemed, that cut the grain, tying it into
bundles as it accumulated, or threshed the
rich wheat from the useful chaff. The hay
fields-and Uncle Philip expected to cut
two thousand tons of hay that
were, many of them, so far from the home
ranch that the men had a complete camp
ing outfit, not to waste time going back and
forth for their meals. OF the delights of
visiting that camp, | forbear to write, lest
those of you who, poor things, are obliged
to spend the summer at Newport or Mount
Desert should nave your simple pleasures
there were picnics at the great cave, beau
tifully shaded with great trees along the
creek. where wonderful Indian heiroglyph-
les were found. and when the gentlemen
as the shooting season began, and they
scattered over the prairie for prairie chicken,
quail. plover. or duck-were glad to come
together for afternoon tea. made from Mrs.
Leslie's urn. And at last, just before they
were going home, they had one of the gen.
uine prairie excitements.
They all had been dining at Elk Horn
ranch-the charming home of their nearest
neighbors,-and as they rose from the table
smoke was seen in the distance. Expert
enced eyes pronounced that it was nothing
alarming. and they all sat on the piazza for
another hour. When at last the horses
were brought around, they had hardly
driven a quarter of a mile before a man
met them on horseback, shouting:
'.You cannot get home, Mr.. Leslie, The
fire is raging for miles between here and
your house."
But | must get home y shouted Uncle
Philip, as he gave the whip to his horses.
They were only four miles from their W
house. but between ragged a sea of prairie
fire.
1t was a terrible sight as they approach
ed the place where flames began to be visi-
BILE. Of course there were no towering
buildings with roofs ablaze and cracking
walls, and they had no fear of any lives
being in danger; but to see acres OF low
grass all aflame like a lake of fire miles in
extent, was a thrilling sight in itself, even
if one were not wondering what might be
happening at the dear home just beyond.
Uncle Philip drove to a little patch OF plow-
ed ground, waiting there with the smoke and
cinders almost binding their eyes, and the
fearful wind almost blowing them from
the carriage, till the flames had passed over
a strip of land wide enough for the horses
to pass through. Then, on and on, as fast as
the excited animals could run, waiting
from time to time on little squares of
plowed ground, till they came to a strip of
furious fame. which did not seem to yield,
even after waiting ten or fifteen minutes.
II must go to my sheep!" exclaimed Uncle
Philip. and in another moment they were
driving straight through and over the
flaming grass. 1t did not last long, OF
course: but they drove home at a furious
pace, TO find that the fire had paused about
a mile from the house, though all the men
on the ranch were at work there, beating
| down the flames with old blankets. branches
| of trees. and even old clothes dipped il
water. 1t was a fierce struggle; and they
worked till late in the evening before they
could feel that house and crops and range
were at last quite safe.
.sYou look like Meg Merrilies, Mamma,
said Lillian, as she tried to smooth hel
| mothers flying wraps and disordered hair
$780,