The silver messenger. (Challis, Idaho) 1890-1912, 1903-07-07

unconscious OF evil as q new bride
who has not yet shaken all the rice
out of her black hair, when, 10, and
behold brick will drop fourteen sto
rtes and hit him in the ear He pre-
pares to dress for function of tea
roses and curl papers, and can't find
white tie to save his standing in
the community Then his collar but
ton comes out and rolls under the
dresser. He finally gets to the sta
ton and the guard on the elevated
train won't open the door in time to
let him aboard. Thirty minutes later
he steps on a banana-peel and is "all
in" as the street vocabulary has 1t.
Now all these things are unimportant
in themselves, but punched they
make a man grow old. He goeth
forth in the morning elated and full
of hope. The wind catcheth his hat
amidships and bloweth it careeningly
down the street. He puffeth after 1t
and is outdone. This reminds of
| "Ironquill" Wares Kansas breeze:
"Once Kansas zephyr strayed
| Where cross eyed bull pup played.
And the foolish canine bayed
AT the zephyr in a gay.
| Semi-idiotic way;
Then the zephyr in about
| Half a jiffy took that pup,
| Turned him over wrong side up,
| Then 1t turned him wrong side out;
| And it calmly journeyed hence
With a barn and string of fence"
Once we owned a daily paper.
Those who have heard George AIDES
Peggy from Paris" will recall that
"Heine played with Sousa once
just once!" In this at least we were
like Heine. A carrier boy is small
thing, a petty and a trivial circum-
stance, and yet he can do more to
cause woe than even "IronquilTs"
zephyr. One night he forgot to carry
his papers. In a moment of I'M
guardedness we had allowed the town
telephone man to place a hello-box
in our happy home. On this oct a.
sion the phone rang-not once but
several times. Then it pealed some
more, and with sad heart we
skulked to the office, and in the dark.
ness we delivered those papers. We,
the editor and owner of a public
thought moulder, the proud posses
sor of a three-story brick building, a
gasoline engine and shooting stick,
delivering our own aristocratic
thoughts at the door-sills of the con.
stituency. We humbled our pride
and carried the edition. but there
sunk deep into our heart a shaft that
ever and anon pricks us to the reali-
zation that the little things of life
are responsible for the gray hairs in
our wife's head.
SSS
The pious bird with the scarlet breast,
Our little English robin?"
There is a belief, more marked
among the country folk than in the
city's confines, that good luck comes
to the one who first sees and hears
a robin redbreast in the spring. The
arrival of the adventurous bird is
heralded proudly to the local paper
by the fortunate discoverer. The
editor, with thoughts aglow and see
ing the green and budding earth in
the approaching distance, does full
merit to the local Christopher Column
bus and his welcome find. Meanwhile
others have heard these adventurous
songsters from the southland and the
annual dispute arises, the editor hav-
ing, on more than one occasion, to
contradict the glory misapplied to
the alleged discoverer undeniable
proof having been furnished by
more previous Ponce de Leon
Indeed, the coming of the robin in
the last waning days of winter Gre
ates a sensation. The grown folks
feel quickening of the heart and
pulse at the CHEEKY cry of their
feathered friend, the babies press
their faces to the window-pane to
see the winged messenger from a
warmer cline, and during the chilling
days that usually follow the advent
of the first redbreast, all feel a touch
of pity while
Poor robin sits and sings alone.
when the showers of driving sleet
BY the cold winds of winter blown,
The cottage easement beat"
When robin comes it is a sign, in
the village, to begin holding town
meetings for the advancement of the
town. Here grave and fiery speeches
are made and paper rails are laid for
imaginary railways miles and miles
in length. Then, before the stock is
subscribed, wife begins to talk about
new bonnets, new shirtwaists and
new outfits for the children. The re-
suit is hard on the railroad.
The Breton legend If tha rod irie |
upon the robins breast is a pretty
one. 1t is well told in the English
lyrics thus:
Bearing His cross while Christ passed
forth forlorn,
His godlike forehead by the mock crown
torn,
A little bird took from that crown one
thorn
To soothe the dear Redeemer's throbbing
head.
That bird did what she could; His blood.
tbs said,
Down dropping. dyed her tender bosom
red
Since then no wanton boy disturbs her