The So-called Human Race

To put it in another form of expression, Mother Nature maintains poise and evenness of temper in this state far better than in most regions on this terrestrial ball. If you haven’t thanked God to-day that you are privileged to live in California it is not yet too late to do so. Make it a daily habit. The blessing is worth this frequent expression of gratitude to the All High.

VARIANT OF A MORE OR LESS WELL KNOWN STORY

[From the Exeter, Neb., News.]

Whoever took the whole pumpkin pie from Mrs. W. H. Taylor’s kitchen the night of the party was welcome to it as the cat had stepped in it twice and it could not be used. Many thanks for the pan, she says.

THE WORLD’S GREATEST WINTER RESORT

“Because of high temperatures and chinooks

Medicine Hat is menaced with an ice famine.”

They bask in the sunshine and purr like a cat,
The fortunate people of Medicine Hat.

Its climate is balmy in spite of the lat.;
You have a wrong notion of Medicine Hat.

At Christmas they sit on their porches and chat,
For it never gets chilly in Medicine Hat.

The Medicine Hatters all spoil for a spat
With any defamer of Medicine Hat;

They’re ready and anxious to go to the mat
With any one scoffing at Medicine Hat.

The birds never migrate – they know where they’re at,
For it always is summer in Medicine Hat.

No day that you can’t use a heliostat;
Sunlight is eternal in Medicine Hat.

They’re swatting the fly and the skeeter and gnat,
As frost never kills them in Medicine Hat.

His nature is skeptic, he’s blind as a bat
Who can’t see the beauties of Medicine Hat.

All jesting is flatulent, futile, and flat
That libels the climate of Medicine Hat.

Away with the knockers who knock it, and drat
The jokers who joke about Medicine Hat.

In short, it’s the one, the ideal habitat.
Boy! buy me a ticket to Medicine Hat!

According to the Milford Herald a young couple were married “under the strain of Mendelssohn’s wedding march.”

THE VILLAGE OMAR LOSES HIS OUTFIT

[From the Fort Dodge Messenger.]

Lost – Grass rug and ukulele between Shady Oaks and Fort Dodge. Finder notify Messenger.

“Thelander-Eckblade Wedding Solomonized,” reports the Batavia Herald. Interesting and unusual.

“TWEET! TWEET!” GOES THE ENRAPTURED REPORTER

[From the Sterling Gazette.]

The wedding party wended its way to the grove south of the river and there, in a lovely spot, where pleasant hours of courtship have been passed, the wedding ceremony was performed. No stately church edifice built by man, no gilded altar, no polished pews nor polished floors were there; no stately organ or trained choir; there was an absence of ushers, bridesmaids and parson heavily gowned. No curious crowd thronged without the portal. In place of this display and grandeur they were surrounded by an edifice of nature’s planting – the stately forest tree, while the green sward of the verdant grove furnished a velvety carpet. There, in this beautiful spot, where the Creator ordained such events to occur, the young couple, true lovers of the simple life, took upon themselves the vows which united them until “death itself should part.” The rustle of the leaves in the treetop murmured nature’s sweet benediction, while the bluebird, the robin, and the thrush sang a glorious doxology.

Wedded, in Clay county, Illinois, Emma Pickle and Gay Gerking. A wedding gift from Mr. Heinz or Squire Dingee would not be amiss.

A SPLENDID RECOVERY

[Waukesha, Wis., item.]

Mr. and Mrs. J. Earl Stallard are the proud parents of an eight pound boy, born at the Municipal hospital this morning. Mr. Stallard will be able to resume his duties as county agricultural agent by tomorrow.

HOW FAST THE LEAVES ARE FALLING!

[From the Waterloo Courier.]

Frank Fuller, night operator at the Illinois Central telegraph office, has been kept more than busy to-day, all because of a ten pound boy who arrived at his home last evening. Mr. Fuller has decided that he will spend all of his evenings at his home in the future.

HOW SOON IT GETS DARK THESE DAYS!

[From the Pillager, Minn., Herald.]

That stork is a busy bird. It left a 10-lb baby girl at Ned Mickles last Thursday night. Ned is a neighbor of Cy Deaver.

UPON JULIA’S ARCTICS

Whenas galoshed my Julia goes,
Unbuckled all from top to toes,
How swift the poem becometh prose!
And when I cast mine eyes and see
Those arctics flopping each way free,
Oh, how that flopping floppeth me!

“We are all in the dark together,” says Anatole France; “the only difference is, the savant keeps knocking at the wall, while the ignoramus stays quietly in the middle of the room.” We used to be intensely interested in the knocking of the savants, but as nothing ever came of it, we have become satisfied with the middle of the room.

A GOOD MOTTO