The Pacific commercial advertiser. [volume] (Honolulu, Hawaiian Islands) 1885-1921, 1886-02-13
The Seasons Change.

lDLA
Tuesday, the 22nd of September, the sun
passed over the equator, and the moon and
stars win now balance all. Thu days and
nights will be equal It Is at this season of
the year that the scar and yellow leaf hecks
the green grassy earth and is no more. Ma
ture and your wife change dresses, but it
costs nature less TO make the change, and
you are sad. As E William Nye would
say: ''Shun now the raging main. Avoid
the heaving bllow and the moonlight ex-
cursion on the lake. Pull the bean crop
and harvest the etruscan pumpkin Of agri-
culture. The plum, the peach and the
apricot now hang idly on the bough IN
the hay air. The harvest fields are yell
low, and the curculio packs up his
tools and GOES home 30 rest till another
spring The grasshOpper says 'Ta-ta' TO
the grasshopper sufferer and steals away.
The secretary of the Capt Kidd gold claim
begins to write photograph letters to the
stockholders, in which he says that the
money of the company has been very judici-
ously expended, and, at the close of the
season, shows a marvellous body Of ore,
rich in quality and almost boundless in
quantity, waiting only for a better and
fuller development. We need the money to
keep the water out of the lower levels, he
says, and to do this successfully we must
have expensive and greatly improved pump
ing machinery. 1t has therefore been
necessary to assess each share $500"
Bloomington spectators know how it is
themselves, they have been keeping water
out of the lower levels of western mines for
years by examining the cavities with coin
OF the realm.
The apple and the hazsl-nut begin to ripen
on the branches and show symptoms of
worms. The ardor of the hornet is cooled
and the watermelon is fast going to his long
home beyond the orchard fence The pump
kin pie looms up on the horizon and fills our
bosom and our stomach with joy.
The summer resorter now getsth tired of
travel and his malarial fever is flown and
he conleth home at once.
The agriculturist goes joyously afield,
singing ocular lay or two, and wonder
ing how much the bioated capitalist will
dock him for the wild pigeon grass and
cookie in his wheat this year.
The Lavender pantaloons Of gay summer
tiin5 droop and yearn for the eternal rest of
the rag bag where they can fold their worn
and weary baggy knees and be forever at
peace. There they can cross their tired legs,
and hide their stra wberry stains and sorrow
iG tie hush that knows no waking. So it is,
more or less, with us all 1t is the closing
of the season. and we begin to banker for
rest and change of scene. The gay summer
Is gene with its seaside pleasures, its cod
fish balls and other amusements, its flirta-
tions with 50 counts and back mum Der beau
ties. The season is at an end, and we turn,
with fceling of anguish, to the deserted
home where the bathroom has overiowed
and taken off the stucco ceiling below, where
the mice have made home in the piano and
the moss is growing in the cistern.
AMI what should we learn from all this?
Should we not learn valuable lessonq
Should we not look into our hearts and see
if they are pure2 Should we not, also, ex-
anime our livers and see whether they are
torpid or otherwise? 1 would most assured
ly trow So We should not only have a
warm heart, but warm feet also, and a liver
that will plod on through life patiently and
uncomplainingly. Let us keep out of poll
tics and the victory is easy.