them sleep on. One live member is likely to irritate the repose of the
whole body.

Their faint stirrings of progress are pathetic.

They have an electric plant, but, as I have noted before, the lights
therefrom show a strong trace of their pine-knot heredity, and go out on
all important occasions, whether of festivity or tragedy. Kerosene lamps
have to be kept filled and cleaned if a baby or a revival or a lawn
festival is expected.

They have a lovely, wide concrete pavement in front of six of the stores
around the public square, but no two stretches of the improvement join
each other, and it makes a shopping progression around the town somewhat
dangerous, on account of the sudden change of grade of the sidewalk,
about every sixty feet. Aunt Augusta wanted Uncle Peter to introduce a
bill in the City Council forcing all of the property owners on the
Square to put down the pavement in front of their houses, at small
payments per annum, the town assuming the contract at six per cent.
Uncle Peter refused, because he said that he felt a smooth walk around
the Square would call out what he called "a dimity parade" every
afternoon.

They have a water system that is supplied by so much mud from the river
that it often happens that the town has to go unwashed for a week, while
the pipes are cleaned out. There is a wonderful spring that could be
used, with a pump to supply the town, Aunt Augusta says.

The City Council tied up the town for a hundred thousand dollars'
subscription to the new railroad, and failed to tie the shops down in