Judge — August 5, 1905 — page 6: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THAT CITY SUPERIORITY. Gtavys—"" Why don't you bait your hook, Willie ?”” . Witte (a city boy)—"" What's the use? These country fishes don't know the difference."" IN AUGUST. ENCOURAGING. OWN in the orchard she and I - Patient—* What do you think about my eye, doctor ?” Walked ‘neath one sun-umbrella, Doctor (replacing the bandage)—* Oh, your eye will come out Where “Indian peaches” redder all right in a week or two." And “lemon-clings” hung yellow. She asked what peach did I prefer, And with my brain awhirl L answered, as I looked at her, “The kind called ‘summer girl.’ HER FIRST LETTER FROM THE SHORE. At the shore (a wets Sth, "05. MY DEAREST JOHN—1 am sitting in the sand writing this letter. = Got here last night and came down to the shore straight, and ity was lovely. But you were not here to enjoy it with me, so I only half enjoved it myself. The moon was just coming up, and the view was graud. I did so wish you could be here to drink in the loveliness of it all. How little, after all, are the great things, like the moon and the ocean and the stars, when the one you love is far away! I just now wrote your name in the sand and a big wave came and wiped it out. Do you know, I feel real superstitious about it. Will any wave, I wonder, ever rush up on the beach of my heart and rub your name off the slate? Oh, what big, brave thoughts come to me as I look out over the gray waste of waters! It make sone think. These waters have rolled along this shore for so many ages it makes your head ache, and yet, while changing always, they have changed never. Isn't it a beautiful thought—always changing, but never changed? That's the way it's going to be with us—isn’t it, dear? A funny fancy came to me just now. When I looked at the little level sweep of sand where I wrote your name a moment ago and saw how every trace of it was gone, I said who knows but thousands of names of sweethearts have been written in that very same sand and no sign of them remains? How fickle is man! Perhaps only yesterday some fellow sat in this identical spot and wrote his love's name and the sea laughed as it smoothed it out. Don’t you know, the big ocean of life laughs at us all that way? Our affairs seem so real and everlasting, and then a mocking curler rolls up out of the depths and with a single lap our little everlastingness vanishes. My darling, if I go on this way I feel as if I would get blue. I am so lonesome now that I don't know whether I am happy or miserable. But I think I might get miserable enough if I have to sit round and brood beside these lonesome billows that are forever rolling in from the desolation and solitude way out > there under the leaden skies Say, darling, who do you suppose Ue Odea ne _ just went by? Guess real hard! Percy Gotsomedough! And I heard rm Fe el oon te yesterday? y engaged. he had gone to Europe. Well, good-bye. Hastily, KaTE. Sue—' Why, you see, yesterday there was nothing to tell.” comicbooks.com