"Nothin' in particular," replied 'Lisha, somewhat abashed. "I tried to shoot a crow, but the pesky thing flew off."
"Of course he did. We saw you get out of the wagon, and he knew you had come to murder him," said Mr. Thompson, severely.
'Lisha looked at him in surprise. "I reckon you've been asleep," he ventured. "You cum out to keep the crows off the corn, and when I cum here, thar was two settin' on the scarecrow."
"Yes," replied Mr. Thompson, calmly, "that was my friend and me;" and he walked majestically toward the house.
'Lisha looked at him in open-mouthed amazement. "Wa'al, I vow, he do hev the funniest dreams!" he muttered. "But," he added, after a moment's reflection, "it 'pears to me one of them crows did fly over to this corner." And 'Lisha shouldered his gun and walked home, speculating upon the eccentricities of the "city boarder."
[SOMETHING ABOUT LIGHTNING.]
BY C. J. M.
I wonder how many of the readers of the Young People, while watching the vivid flashes of lightning during a summer-storm, have ever asked the question, What is lightning? This problem has puzzled many old and wise heads, and the solution is apparently as far off as ever.
Scientific men are agreed that lightning is electricity, differing in no wise from that which can be produced by rubbing a piece of amber or by an electrical machine, except in power; but of what might be called the inner nature of this electricity they are quite ignorant. They can only observe and study its effects.