I like the lad who, when his father thought
To clip his morning nap by hackneyed phrase
Of vagrant worm by early songster caught,
Cried, “Served him right! it’s not at all surprising;
The worm was punished, sir, for early rising.”
John G. Saxe.
HOW SANTA CLAUS CAME TO SIMPSON’S BAR.
IT had been raining in the valley of Sacramento. The North Fork had overflowed its banks and Rattlesnake Creek was impassable.
The few boulders that had marked the summer ford at Simpson’s Crossing were obliterated by a vast sheet of water stretching to the foothills. The up stage was stopped at Granger’s; the last mail had been abandoned in the tules, the rider swimming for his life.