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Show j oBola T SKETCHED Iff -BYEON WILLIAMS Along about this time of year the man in the city gets the country fever. He is aweary of the noise and grind, and his aircastles are builded in the verdant valleys where the swallows homeward fly, where the silvery nightingale chants her refrain, where the country folks call each other oth-er "Bill" and "Hank" and swap chewing chew-ing tobacco and yarns for pastime. Several times a day he is reminded that "God made the country and man made the town." He is unlike the little lit-tle girl upstairs who was told not to be afraid of the thunder as God was with her. Her reply has often been told: "Papa, let me come down and sleep with mamma and you come up and stay with God awhile!" The man in the metropolis is willing will-ing the countryman should come to the city and see the sights, hear the noise and be impressed, but what he wants is to escape to the quietude of the rural districts and be with God and God's handiwork awhile. He Is nauseated with metropolitan scenes and customs. He yearns to get out into the pure air preserves where he can drink buttermilk and study the locomotion of the wabbly, new calf. Bacon says, "God Almighty first planted a garden" and the city man yearns to follow in His footsteps. He believes with Cowper that rural sounds as well as rural sights exhilarate the spirit, and he longs to hear the low of the brown-eyed, clover-breathed heifer, the chorus of the frogs and the farmer lad calling "Poigh! Poigh!" to the hogs. He would be somewhere where he does not have to tip the waiter and have his trousers creased. Keats, in substance, says that to one who has been long in city pent, it is sweet to look into a country sky, the open face of heaven, and breathe a prayer. There the meadow-lark, aslant on his waving percl calls to his mate, the rich odors of plowed fields arise, mingled with the perfume of the wild violet and plum-blossoms. Is it not enough to fidget the toller in a stiSing office where an odor of fried ham filters in from a hardby restaurant, to be dispelled only by the aroma of a cigarette which the office imp is smoking in the hall? 1 3 5 3 Bishop Satterlee, in an address at Washington, D. C, declared tie hydra-heaaed monster of divorce, threatens the American home and promises to make a boarding house of it. And yet Dan Cupid continues to , combat the evil. W. K. Vanderbilt, divorced, is about to wed again, and has had the separation decree altered that he may take another plunge in the alluring waters of matrimony. It is seldom, indeed, that divorce gets the better of Dannie, who is omnipresent omni-present with his darts. Not long ago a daring woman insisted insist-ed that no man and wife should live together longer than three years. Some of us who have been inured considerably consider-ably longer, will undoubtedly feel too much acclimated for a change at this late date. What are we to believe, anyhow? One authority says in divorce div-orce lurks a danger of ominous mein; another declares we are too constant -already. When doctors of philosophy, like administers of pills, fall out, it is hard on the patient Beware of divorce! Avoid long marriages! Take your choice. It's all in a lifetime, life-time, anyhow. 3 3 3 1 Another desperado has "bit the dust!" Reference is made to Outlaw McKinney, late of California, now of well, let that pass. McKinney aggravated aggra-vated Providence by hiding in a Chinese Chi-nese joss house. The charm refused' to work, and, after a desperate and deadly' battle, the criminal was shot through the mouth and neck, dying in the dirt, as was due him. The above . is cited to illustrate what is liable to happen most any day out in Iowa where two editors are doing deadly battle, while the ink-stained populace stands in awed apprehension and dread. We fear for them both and would sincerely advise ad-vise the "devils" of the respective print-shops to hide -the shooting sticks ere it is everlastingly too late. Either one of them may take to the Joss house most any day now. |