Hello, Mister Canteloupe, When did you arrive? Glad to see you, and I hope That you're all alive! How-dy do and how-dy do! Hope your folks are well, And are coming after you For to stay a spell! Hello, Mister Cantaloupe! Please excuse my smile, But I'm just so glad, and hope You will stay awhile; Put 'er here and put 'er there! If you've traveled far, Come with me and take a chair In the dining car! Life is neither comedy nor tragedy, but sometimes it pushes up so close to both that it keeps a fellow on the dodge between smiles and tears. Rainy Weather. Our Mud Creek correspondent sends us the following items, having to do with the recent wet weather: "Bill Hughes cut his wheat last week. He rigged up a header attachment to a row-boat, and nipped the heads off at the surface of the water. "It rained so fast last Saturday night at Tad Wilson's that the water couldn't all run off the roof of his new house. The water stood four inches deep on top of the comb for over half an hour. Then Tad took an ax and sharpened the comb so it would split the drops better, and the water soon ran down. "Jem Bilkins' incubator hatched last Wednesday during the heavy rain. Jem set only Plymouth Rock eggs; but, when they hatched, over half of his chickens were ducks. They were given web feet by an accommodating providence." Get in the Game. Get in the game of life, my boy, Get in the mighty game; There'll be something of care and somewhat of strife And something of sin and shame! But after the years and the toils they bring, There'll be a time of joy, If the heart stays sweet and the soul can sing, So get in the game, by boy. Got in the game of life, my boy,-- That is the game for all; For the hazards are sweet and the days are rife With the fortunes that rise and fall; But after the losses the triumphs stand Enemies can't destroy; So get in the game with a full, clean hand, So get in the game, by boy. Get in the game of life, by boy! That is the game men play, And whether it's gladness or whether it's strife, It lasts to the One Great Day; The crowns and the stars and the laughs of love Beckon with hands of joy, Till the soul grows vast in the home above,-- So get in the game, my boy! Caught on the Fly. My son, this world has so much work to do that it has not even room for a lazy man to sit down and rest. The hen that doesn't lay, the horse that balks, and the cow that refuses to give down her milk, don't get up to the feed-rack very long. The Athletic Clubs are always inventing some new way of giving a big strapping cub an adequate form of exercise, but the average farmer finds more kinds of it than he wants when the crab grass gets busy.