other ov the domestik animiles. A muskeeter at 3 hours old iz just az
reddy and anxious to go into bizzness for himself, az ever he iz, and
bites the fust time az sharp, and natral, as red pepper duz. The
muskeeter haz a good ear for musik, and sings without notes. The song ov
the muskeeto iz monotonous to sum folks, but in me it stirs up the
memorys ov other days. I hav lade awake, all nite long, menny a time and
listened to the sweet anthems ov the muskeeter. I am satisfied that
thare want nothing made in vain, but i kant help thinking how mighty
kluss the musketoze kum to it. The muskeeter haz inhabited this world
since its kreashun, and will probably hang around here until bizzness
closes. Whare the muskeeter goes to in the winter iz a standing
konumdrum, which all the naturalists hav giv up, but we kno he dont go
far, for he iz on hand early each year with hiz probe fresh ground, and
polished. Muskeeters must be one ov the luxurys ov life, they certainly
aint one ov the necessarys, not if we kno ourselfs.




THE TURNINGS OF A BOOKWORM

BY CAROLYN WELLS


Love levels all plots.
Dead men sell no tales.
A new boom sweeps clean.
Circumstances alter bookcases.
The more haste the less read.
Too many books spoil the trade.