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VOL. V., NO. 3
PINEHURST, N. C. NOV. 29, 1901
TRICE THREE CENTS
THE DISMAL DOLE OF THE DOODLEDOO.
A bingo bird once nestled her nest
On the lissom bough of an I O yew,
Hard by a burrow that was possess'd
Of a drear and dismal doodledoo.
Eftsoons this doodledoo descried
The blithe and beautiful bingo bird,
He vowed he'd woo her to be his bride
With many a sleek and winsome word,
"Oh, doo! oh, doo!" sang the doodledoo
To the bingo bird in the yarrish yew.
Now a churlish chit was the bingo bird,
Though her plumes were plumes of cardinal hue
And she smithered a smirk whenever she heard
The tedious yawp of the doodledoo;
For she loved, alas! a subtile snaix,
Which had a sting at the end of his tail
And lived in a tarn of sedge and brakes
On the murky brink of a grewsome swall
"Oh, doo! oh, doo!" moaned the doodledoo,
As dimmer and darker each day he grew.
Now, when this doodledoo beheld
The snaix go wooing the bingo bird,
With envious rancor his bosom swelled
His soul with bitter remorse was stirred
And a flubdub said to the doodledoo,
The subtile snaix and the doodledoo!
I tell no tales but if 1 were you
I'd stop his courting the bingo fair!
Aye, marry, come up, Pd fain imbrue,
If I were only a doodledoo!
The very next morn, as the bingo bird
Was nursing her baby bingoes three,
She gave a start, for the plainly heard
An ominous sound at the foot of the tree!
Her keen eye lit on the grew so 11, e brakes
From whence proceeded the hullaballoo
And, lo and behold! 'twas the subtile snaix
Busy at work with the doodledoo.
Boo-hoo ! boo-hoo ! how the feathers flew
When the snaix Imbrued with the doodledoo 1
They fought and scratched and they bit and bled,
Dispensing gore and their vitals, too,
And never pausing till both were dead
The subtile snaix and the doodledoo!
And the bingo bird she didn't mind,
But, giving her shouldera a careless shrug,
She went the way of her female kind,
And straightway wedded the straddlebug!
And there was nobody left to rue
The doom of the snaix and the doodledoo
Unless, mayhap, 'twas the I O yew.
By Eugene Field, Neio Amsterdam Book Co.
NAMING THE DEER.
A Merry Party Spends a Pleasant Hour
Among the Interesting Animals in
the Park.
A TALE OF THEODORE.
Walking is a popular pastime in Pine
hurst; and naturally so as all condi
tions combine to make it enjojrable
almost uniformly ideal weather, well
kept walks, attractive shrubbery on
every hand, beautiful groves, and
numerous points of interest within and
around the village. Of these, the Deer
Park is probably the one most frequently
visited. This is a seven-acre plot soutli
of the Village Green, enclosed by a high,
woven wire fence, in which is kept a
herd of native deer. There are at pres
ent eight of these interesting; animals of
various ages and sizes ; most of them are
comparatively tame and make friends
readily with kindly disposed visitors,
particularly with children.
Although these pretty animals have
been visited every day bv hundreds of
people for the past several seasons, they
have never yet, with but one or two
exceptions, been honored with individual
names; why the ceremony of christen
ing was overlooked in sen sons past is
not explained, but probably as the deer
never complained, no one ever thought
of it, and but for the thoughtfulness of
a few, the deer might have been allowed
to live on in ignominious namelessness.
This, though, was not to be, for a party
of their friends and admirers came to
their rescue on last Monday afternoon
and the calamity was averted.
They met by appointment at the Deer
Park entrance at 3.00 o'clock. Game
keeper Shaw was in waiting and the party
was conducted inside the enclosure.
it is comparatively safe to assume, how
ever, that he will soon forget what his
real name is and answer readily to
"Teddy." "Marraion" was the name
selected for the next candidate, a large,
handsome stag, with a sleek and glossy
coat of reddish-brown, while another
smaller stag was christened "Sir Wal
ter."' "Venus" was the name given to
the smallest deer of the herd and a very
shy stag, who would not stand still long
enough to permit one's taking a good
view of him, was fittingly called
"Comet."
One of the most interested spectators
of the proceedings was the mossy-horned
patriarch of the herd, who has long been
known as "Harry ;" he was the tamest
and most gentle of the family and
appeared disposed to make friends with
all the visitors. In this respect, he was
very different from "Marmion," who
appeared to be anxious to go on the war
path, and gently "butted" one or two of
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Then, one by one, the older deer, which
were the less timid, were brought for
ward and christened, while their marks
were carefully noted for future identifi
cation. The names given in every
instance were suggested by the ladies
and children of the party and met with
general approval.
The first candidate for distinction was
a gentle, soft-eyed doe, which was
christened "Rosa Duncan," in honor of
one of the little ladies of the party.
Immediately after being named, Rosa
scampered oil' to ruminate over her new
title, perhaps and her place was taken
by one of the largest stags in the herd,
who remained just long enough to be
iuformed that he would hereafter be
called "Cupid;" he appeared perfectly
satisfied and the party felt encouraged
in its work. Alter him came a dashing,
military-lookiDg stag, whose appearance
at once suggested the very appropriate
name of "Theodore," which was
bestowed upon him by common consent;
the visitors with his antlers by way of
polite challenge to combat; this ehal
lege, however, was judiciously ignored
and the occasion passed off without a
battle.
The stag, "Theodore," has twice
escaped from captivity and given the
gamekeeper a merry chase to return him
to his quarters. On the first occasion,
he was captured when only about one
mile away from the village, but his sec
ond attempt to see the wide world gave
better promise of being successful. He
got away In the night and Gamekeeper
Shaw followed him for three days before
catching up with him deep in the woods
of an adjoining couuty; by the judicious
use of strategy and cabbage leaves, he
managed to entice the truant "Theodore"
into an old log barn some distance away
where he kept hiin a prisoner until he
built a heavy crate, which, Mr. Shaw
says, lie thought was strong enough to
hold an elephant; he then inveigled
"Theodore" into the crate and went to
find a conveyance to bring him back to
Pinehurst. Put, during his absence,
"Theodore" butted a side out of the
crate and made off once more. It wafe
pitch dark and raining when Mr. Shaw
returned and discovered the escape, but
delay was dangerous and he at once
started after the fugitive. It was almost
daylight when he came up with the deer
and he exhausted his entire supply of
diplomacy and cabbage leaves in a futile
effort to induce the animal to retrace his
steps toward the barn and the deserted
crate. When all other means failed, he
resorted to force, grabbed the deer by
both hind legs and threw him down;
there was a very exciting wrestling
match for nearly a half-hour, but when
it ended, Mr. Shaw was sitting on
"Theodore's" neck. He remained there
for several hours arranging in his mind
a campaign for the pacification of the
subdued enemy, when a darkey hap
pened along, who helped him to carry
the vanquished "Theodore" back to the
crate, in which he was safely transported
back to Pinehurst.
As he quietly submitted to his chris
tening the other day, his appearance
gave no sign of the exciting scenes
through which he had passed, but deer,
like human beings, do not all have their
histories written in their faces.
Among those who took part in naming
the deer were: Mr. Lee Peirce Butler,
Mrs. F. E. Roberts, Mrs. Will J. Irvin,
and Misses C. E. Chesterton, Sarth
Grant, Rosina Mordecai, E. V. Webster,
Lyda Douglass, II. E. Brandon and Rosa
and Carrie Sharpe.
THE PREACHER AND THE 'POSSUM.
We had a 'possum supper
De preacher come ter see ;
But dey wa'u't a bit er 'possum
Fer de ';hillun, or fer me!
Fer de preacher ax a blessin'
En pass his plate en cup,
En des in 'bout a minute
He eat de 'possum up!
He says : "I likes de gravy,
I likes de 'taters, too ;
It takes a whole, fat 'possum
To pull de preacher th'oo!"
He ax des one mo' blessin',
Den pile his plate en cup ;
En scoop in all de dressin',
Des eat de 'possum up !
En den he climb de pulpit,
En fer de tex' he reach;
But couldn't say a single word,
Kaze he too full ter preach !
At las' he up en tol' 'em :
"Dis weather mos' too col';
I gwine home, believers,
En res' my sufTrin' soul!"
Frank L. Stanton, in Dixie Land,
Keep in touch with your winter home.
Subscription for The Outlook six
months, 50 cents.