quite certain that the highest
waves ever seen in that region did not surpass fifty-eight
feet in altitude. A wave of that height would certainly be a
formidable looking object, and its crest would wash the
windows of the fifth story of many New York buildings.

The average height of the waves in different oceans has been
ascertained with some approach to accuracy as the result of
a great many measurements. The highest waves observed in the
Indian Ocean, for example, are about forty feet. The highest
waves in the North Atlantic are from twenty-five to
twenty-nine feet, and in the Mediterranean from sixteen to
nineteen feet.

Even the smallest of these great waves has considerable
destructive power. Some of them travel along at a speed of
twenty-five miles an hour. A wave about thirty feet high
contains thousands of tons of water, and when this immense
force is dashed against any structure the ruin wrought is
likely to be impressive.

BASEBALL BARDS "ON DECK."

A Garland of Truly American Verse--Poems, New and Old, That Sing the
Glories of the Great National Game.

THE OLD ENTHUSIAST.

By S.E. Kiser.

There's a glad old-fashioned feeling stealing over me once more;
I forget that I'm gray-headed and am verging on threescore;
There are many weighty matters that my earnest care should claim--
But come, old man, let's knock off and go out and see the game.

Let's get a bag of peanuts, and be boys again and shout
For the men who lam the leather and who line three-baggers out;
Let's go out and root and holler, and forget that we have cares,
And that still the world has markets which are worked by bulls and
bears.

Every year or two they tell us that baseball is out of date;
But each spring it's back in fashion when they line up at the plate,
When the good old, glad old feeling comes again to file its claim--
When a man can turn from trouble and go out and see the game.

I can feel the warm blood rushing through my veins again--hooray!
See those slender pennants waving? Hear the umpire calling "Play!"
Yah, you bluffer--no, you didn't--aw, say, umpire, that's a shame!
What? Two strikes? Come off, you robber! Well, you're rotten all the
same!

Oh, if we'd a man like Anson or Dan Brouthers used to be,
To hold down that first bag--say, what a corker