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Show r "i j Rippling' 8 By WALT MASON EVERGREEN. You'd say I'm in the jellow leaf, If you should count my years; but 1 don't travel much with grief, or elosh around in tears and so I work on gorgeous bluff that's based on seemly mirth, and people say I'm young enough for anything on earth. I have all kinds of pea-green pains along my legs and back; but when a lot 'of Jnkes and Janes are calling at my shack, on mal ndies I waBtc no words, I don't discourse dis-course of woes; I talk of hams 'and hummingbirds and cheerful things llko those. A man Is old when he begins to talk of ailments dire, to sigh all day and toast his shins before a fitful fire. A man grows old when he Is prone to , boost the vanished time, to view the present with a groan, and swear it is la crime. If I should live eight hundred I years, composing helpful rhymes, as Noah and such prophetcers hung on in ancient times, I'd still be young as I am now, though outwardly defaced, with heavy furrows on my brow, and whiskers to iny waist. For when I seo what old men do, I do the other thing; their van replnings I eschew, nnd whoop around and sing. oo |