Recently a traveler in Scotland, standing upon a mountain cliff
overlooking the sea, found himself in great danger. It seems
that the gardener desired to beautify even the steep cliffs and
precipices. Loading his double-barreled shot-gun with seeds of
flowers and vines, he fired the seeds up into the crevices of
the rocks.
Not otherwise, for men and women who have a few moments for
rest between hour, has life become dangerous. To-day, one
can scarcely turn round the street corner without running
into the president of some new culture club, who straightway
empties into the victim two volleys of talk about some wisdom,
old or new. The old shot-gun is less dangerous than the new
club.--NEWELL DWIGHT HILLIS.
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