Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1893-09-20

tance-perhaps there; the sun shone
overhead-perhaps there. At all events
he had gone.
And are there not those, who thus
fbereft of summer hopes and glories,
llnger like that tree, in the midst OF
their fellows, with them, but not o.
them? OF spirit that eagle, dwelling
apart, that might have been kind, but
was made fierce, that Would have sought
companionship, but flung back into a
dreary solitude, is now blent with the
blaze of the sun, and now baptized in
the gloom of the cloud? But that tree
was green once. Song and summer
were among its branches, and that
proud bird was callow eaglet.
A night in the woods, and a mid
summer night Starry as the Alhambra,
leafy as the Vallambrosa, still as an
emphatic pause. Trees are flung back.
ward on to the sky, with every branch
and twig motionless, shadowy, but dis
tinct-every tree, n great leaf of itself,
as if Heaven would give us there pic
ture of the forest as ii sees it-nothing
but leaf or two, breathless in the night.
Here l am, in a little room, looking
out upon the scene. The moon, yet
but half filled, rides like a silver
barque, low in the west, and fringe OF
silver mist marks the course of a little
stream, stealing through ravine a
quarter of mile distant. The saCdSh-
not a pretty word but an expressive ono
of the Lake, comes family to the ear,
as the waves curl up the moonlight and
the foam together, and lay them along
the silvery beach. The uneasy, titful
tinkling of a bell, musical nowhere but
in such a scene, seems to ring up "tht
Voices of the night"
The sound of hundred little flies il
heard in every direction-we have fairly
caught them at it-carving out the
scallop of the leaves, and rounding uI
the buds. "Pshaw" says somebody
lit is nothing but remnant of thu
locust tribe"
Katy did," Katy didr' resound:
in every direction, and katy didn't
Katy didn't in a querulous, Caudle,
like tone, the affectionate response.
"Katy" did" "didn'tv' "didr
"Katyr-so it goes-the woods ar,
filled with these domestic Jangles. Who
is Katy, and what did she do, and what
if she did, and is she pretty? were ques-
tions that found no answer, but the
still asserting, still denying katy did,
and she didn't, Of these queer insec'
goSsils. Poor Katy.
"To-whit, to-who!" Minerva save us
if there isn't her bird, calling from his
hollow tree, and 'to. o.who," to-whor l.
the query still, farther and farther, til
lost in the deep woods.
Whip -poor-will" says somebody
from a tree close by the window, in
sweetly plaintive voice, and "whip-yoor.
will" "whip-poor-will"' is the cry all
through the forest. What for? What
has VIII done? But 'whip-poor-willr lr'
was the sole answer received
And fell to speculating: "Katy did, "
that's certain, and from the
"to-who, " 1 infer, by the way, what
would you infer?-well, infer that
Katy went to Gretna Green-so far, SO
d-"Whip-pOor-will." Thank you
my unseen advocate of corporeal pun
ishment-that helps us out bravely-
went to Gretna Green with poor Will.
There it is now, plausible story, and
If there were only some good bird OF
scandal to put it together, rare bit o
gossip it would make, to be sure.
Alas for him, maybe he is sufficient
ly punished without the-there they &C
again, in full chorus, like a gathering
Of crones at quilting.
\ single bark from the kennel,
doing hound is hunting in a dream
We are all hunting in dream-happi.
ness the game, the little life" the
dream, and how weary, oftimes, is the
waking.
"Um-m-m" Gang, ang!" A thou
sand little horns nearer and nearer
here they are with an ang-k, and an uzh,
rs they come, like the huzzars, plump
upon Us. Now for the art of Rosciusl
GcSticulation, pantomime, beating the
breast Of the innocent air! What Wen
made for, Does any body
know? Down goes the window, out
goes the light, and in go ! through the
Ivory Gate the poets tell of-the Gate
Of pleasant dreams.