INTERESTING EPITAPHS
The poet of the Pine Tree State is said to have shown decided poetic proclivities from his earliest days. When a boy of eight or nine, he had two kittens which he had named Myrtle and Ann Eliza. Myrtle died. He buried her in the orchard and planted a shingle headstone on the grave, on which his smiling parents read:
“Here Myrtle lies—
Gone to fertilize.”
In a short time Ann Eliza passed from this earthly scene of caterwauling, and was buried beside Myrtle, with a shingle headstone duly erected and inscribed. His parents, wondering what would be the epitaph, were delighted to read:
“Here lies Ann Eliza—
More fertilizer.”
SHE SPOILED THE POETRY
Two lovers were taking a walk along a country road. The day was fine, the sun was shining and a good breeze was blowing across the hills and fields. The young man was of an idealistic temperament and of good poetic taste, but the young lady was quite matter-of-fact and altogether practical, their differing dispositions being illustrated by their conversation by the way. They had paused in their walk and sat down to rest a while under the outspreading branches of an apple-tree laden with green fruit.
“Ah, my dear,” said he as he looked around, “how grand and glorious all this is—the bright day, the glorious sunlight, the wind blowing fresh and full, and the limbs of this grand old tree moaning a sweet and tuneful melody in response to it all——“
“Yes,” interrupted she, “I guess you’d be groaning, too, if you were as full of green apples as that old apple-tree is!”