ogether with dull
tools an' in mighty poor taste when you git to lookin' at it real clost,
an' it could be mightily improved on by a middlin' sight of polishin',
wood-filler an' hard-oil, well rubbed in!"

"What Shall It Matter, Dear?"

I.

What shall it matter, Dear, how goes the weather.--
We with our hands and our hearts linked together,--
We with our faces, till daisies we're under,
Set to the skies with their welcomes of wonder.

II.

What shall it matter, Dear, how goes the battle?
Something is greater than all of its rattle,
Something that gladdens the heart with the story
Telling of Love and Love's infinite glory.

III.

What shall it matter, Dear, how the world use us?
'Tis but a show and its antics amuse us!
World that knows nothing of all our sweet gladness
And of the love that dispels every sadness!

IV.

What shall it matter, then, what shall it matter?
Peace still awaits after all of earth's clatter!
Peace still awaits, all our love-dreams adorning,
There in the bliss of the Glorified Morning!

Caught on the Fly.

Life's experiences are very much the same as when we go fishing. The
biggest fish always gets away. But even then we have a pretty good feast
on the minnows.

Yesterday is life's departed king; tomorrow holds all the possibilities
of clown and emperor. Only today wears the glittering crown and the
purple robes of power.

Don't pray for what you want, and quit with the prayer. Spit on your
hands and grab it as it hurries by.

The lawn-mower is quite a play thing for the city-bred man, but in the
interest of humanity he ought to be vaccinated against the back ache.

"When the 'Phone Bell Rings."

It's no difference what you're doing,
Whether you're asleep or ain't,
When the 'phone begins pursuing
It will catch you,--no complaint!
For its call is strong and steady,
And it always answer brings,
For you hurry with your "ready!"
When the 'phone bell rings!

O, it interrupts your vision
With its long, unceasing howl;
It dispels your dreams elysian
With insistence fresh and foul!
O, it summons you at meal-times
With a joy that stays and clings,
Till you swear it's always de'il-times
When the 'phone bell rings!

It's no matter where you're straying,--
In the garden, barn or bed,
There's no time to spend in praying