THE WIND AND THE MOON.

Said the Wind to the Moon, "I will blow you out! You stare

In the air

Like a ghost in the chair,

Always looking what I am about

I hate to be watched; I'll blow you out."

The Wind blew hard, and out went the Moon;

So deep

On a heap

Of cloudless sleep

Down lay the Wind, and slumbered soon,
Muttering low, "I've done for that Moon."

He turned in his bed; she was there again!

On high

In the sky,

With her ghost eye,

The Moon shone white and alive and plain;
Said the Wind, "I'll blow you out again."

He blew, and he blew, and the thread was gone. In the air

Nowhere

Was a moonbeam bare;

Far off and silent the shy stars shone-
Sure and certain the Moon was gone!

The Wind he took to his revels once more;

On down,

In town,

Like a merry, mad clown,

He leaped and hallooed with whistle and roar; "What's that?"-The glittering thread once more

He flew in a rage-he danced and be blew;
But in vain

Was the pain

Of his bursting brain;

For still broader the moon-scrap grew,
The broader he swelled his big cheeks and blew.

Slowly she grew till she filled the night,

And shone

On her throne

In the sky alone,

A matchless, wonderful, silvery light,
Radiant and lovely, the queen of the night.

Said the Wind: "What a marvel of power am I! With my breath,

Good faith,

I blew her to death

First blew her away right out of the sky—

Then blew her in; what a strength am I!"

But the Moon she knew nothing about the affair,

For, high

In the sky,

With her one white eye,

Motionless, miles above the air,

She had never heard the great Wind blare.

AMERICAN BISON OR BUFFALO.

The first herd of buffalo I ever saw, was composed of about forty animals, of which fifteen or twenty large, fierce looking old bulls were leading the herd.

Mr. Weaver the hunter who was with me saw them first. They were coming toward us and we hastily hid

ourselves in a shallow buffalo-wallow, having to lie very close to the ground to prevent their seeing us. We both had good guns, and Mr. Weaver was an old experienced hunter, lucky for me. But before the buffalo came within three hundred yards of where we were lying, I said to Mr. Weaver in a whisper, "Let us compromise with the monsters; if they'll let us alone, we'll let them alone. I'll be more than glad when they've gone by."

Mr. Weaver smiled and I trembled; I could not have hit the broad side of a barn a hundred feet away.

The buffalo grazed along, coming so close that at every mouthful of grass they gathered I could distinctly hear a puff from their large nostrils, and see their teeth grinding together. To me they were hideous monsters. They resembled both elephants and lions, and as they moved toward us the very earth shook and trembled.

I paid no more attention to them, they were too near for comfort, and I shut my eyes, scarcely daring to breathe, when suddenly, like a clap of thunder, came the report of a gun, and I was nearly paralyzed.

Mr. Weaver had fired at the leader of the herd. His gun was the large, old-fashioned, heavy gun used by hunters at that time, and the discharge was almost as terrific as a cannon. When all was silent again, I discovered that at least one buffalo could never frighten me again.

This little incident occurred on the eastern plains of Colorado near the Kansas line in 1870.