The Disston Crucible, a Magazine for the Millman

valued ornamental tree of the South, though it has seldom been planted. Nature placed these trees where they are growing. Many an old southern homestead sits well back in groves of live oak. Parks and plazas in towns have them, and would not part with them on any terms. Tallahassee, Florida, is almost buried under live oaks which in earlier years sheltered the wigwams of an Indian town. Villages near the coasts of both the Gulf and the Atlantic in several southern states have their venerable trees large enough for half the people to find shade beneath the branches at one time. Many fine stands have been cut out in recent years to make room for corn, cane, and rice.

Many persons associate the live oak with Spanish moss which festoons its branches in the Gulf region. The moss is no part of the tree, and apparently draws no substance from it, though it may smother the leaves by accumulation, or break the branches by its the weight. Strictly speaking, beard-like growth is not moss at all, but a sort of pine apple (Dendropogon Usenoides) which simply hangs on the limbs and draws its sustenance from water and air. It is found on other trees, besides live oak, and dealers in Louisiana alone sell half a million dollars worth of it a year to upholsterers in all the principal countries of the world.

CASEY JONES, THE LOGGER
(Author Unknown)

Come all you woodsmen if you want to hear
About a B. C. Logger who had no fear;
He knew his duties, but made one mistake-
He chopped down trees, and shoved 'em in the lake.
He was a modest Logger, all unknown to fame;
The price he got for logs was a downright shame;
But if heroes are rewarded as their deeds command,
He is logging off timber in the Promised Land.

When the whistle blew each morning at half-past four
Casey left his wife at the cook-house door,
Picked up his peavey, started down the track;
Never had a notion that he wouldn't come back.

The skidroads one day got greasy-cable wouldn't work;
Engine got to bucking and pulling with a jerk.
When logs began a-jamming, Casey he just said:
"We'll get them in the water or we'll all be dead."

The logs started down the skidroad hill-
Casey jerked the whistle with an awful thrill;
The engineer knew by the whistle's moans
That the man on the wire was Casey Jones.
The logs came 'round the first turn of the road-
And, coming down hill, made a mighty heavy load.
The haul-back broke with a whirr and a hum-
And Casey Jones departed for the Kingdom Come.

"I'm sorry," said Casey, just before he died,
"There's a few logging camps that I haven't tried.”
The hook-tender said: "Casey, what haven't you seen?"
"Sure I never worked at Bellingham, nor down at Aberdeen."
Mrs. Casey, in the bunk-house, spoke with much regret
Of the troubles she had had since she and Casey met.
"Go to bed now, children, he was one gay deceiver.
The next dad you get's goin' to be a shingle weaver."

-Forestry Kaimin.

SAW DUST

SOME GEESE-AN ESSAY Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears, and I will bring them back as soon as I tell you about a low-geared bird, called Geese.

A Geese is a low, heavy-set bird with small ground clearance, composed mostly of meat and feathers.

His head is set on one side and he sets on the other.

Geese has got two legs and they set far back on his running gear.

Geese ain't got any holes between his toes, and always has a toy balloon in his stummik to keep him from sinkin'.

Geese can't sing much on account of the dampness of the moisture.

Some geese when he gets big is called ganders.

Ganders don't have to set and hatch, but just have to eat and go swimmin', so if I was a geese, 1 would rather be a gander. Geese ain't like white people, always in debt, 'cause he can liquidate his bill.

Geese don't give milk, but gives eggs-but for me, give me liberty or give me death!-Commonwealther.

Jim Perkins had purchased a horse, which he found afterward to be afflicted with heaves. Now, of all the misfortunes that might come to a horse, in Jim's opinion, heaves was the worst: so he advertised his horse for sale, describing him as being an unusually fine horse in every particular. A prospective buyer appeared in answer to the ad.

"Isn't he a corker? Hasn't he a fine coat?" exclaimed the owner enthusiastically.

"H'm! His coat is all right, but I don't like his pants," murmured the other.

The train it is a wicked thing,
The engine smokes all day,
And drags along the chew-chew cars,
And tanks up by the way.

-İllustrated World.

THEY DON'T PICK ON THE BULL-
DOG ALL A-GROWL AND PRE-
PARED, BUT KICK RATHER
A QUIVERING POODLE

BY GRANTLAND RICE
On Being Ready

The man who is there with the wallop and punch,

The one who is trained to the minute,

May well be around when the trouble begins,

But you seldom will find he is in

it;

For they let him alone when they know he is there

For any set part in the ramble, To pick on the guy who is shrinking

and soft

And not quite attuned to the scramble.

The one who is fixed for whatever they start

Is rarely expected to prove it; They pass him along for the next shot in sight

Where they take a full wind-up and groove it;

For who wants to pick on a bulldog or such

Where a quivering poodle is handy, When he knows he can win with a kick or a brick

With no further trouble to bandy?
-Phila. Evening Ledger.

Mike Curley tells a story about the war. When the war first started the Germans had never seen a Scotch regiment with their kilts on, and on their first appearance they threw down their guns and ran to embrace them, thinking they were women. It is needless to say the Germans were all taken prisoners.-Disston Bits.

"A half hour a day spent on a particular line of study is the best investment any man can make." -ANDREW CARNEGIE.