the desert-stretches of mesquite and sage-brush, on the broad alfalfa fie

t have been seen taking their way to Las Cruces, the nearest village and postal centre, intent

ces lies a stretch of desert more barrenly forlorn than the Long Island pine-lands, since it is totally void of forest gr

ith lawns and flower-pots. But even at its best, modern civilization, with its push and bustle, ill becomes the

le to make hay while the sun shines? Yesterday has already taken care

ements one must own that it takes on the color of an impertinence, and as

tuck. All these structures are one-storied, and square-built; each has its one door, a window or two, and a dumpy roof, fashioned for the most part of wattles, for, as it seldom rains here, the Las Crucean has no troublesome prejudice in favor of water-tight roofs. When the su

erently provisioned, turned their faces homeward, at such moderate pace as see

amber, where the folding-bed in the day-time masqueraded as

le chocolates, tough cookies, and flinty ginger snaps; munching long-baked Albert biscuit; serenely bolting puckery Oolong tea; and even handing the cups,-large and substantial ones, kindly furnished from their landlady's pantry,-and commending their solidity and size as far preferable to the Dresden and Japanese

vity in regular order

ned to dust, that true eye and steady hand which make gunning a succ

he two impecunious lungers, one by the Harvard man, and another by the Antiquary. The shooting-match, enjoyed as it was by the near population of Mesilla Valley, proved a big suc

dining-room, under the auspices of the landlord and his wife, with

n prose and rhyme; and, at a late hour, wound up with a bountif

backs of the entire assemblage, by a realistic presentation of Rossetti's "Sister Helen." The grey-eyed school-marm recited with genuine "School of Oratory" precision and finish "Barbara Frietchie," Holmes' "Ch

duets; and the Journalist rendered, in his exquisite tenor, Ben

nshaw in the pause of the song, "Ben Jonson is dust these three hundred years, and still his verses come singing down the ages, keeping intact their o

t forward his Cremona. He was a finished violinist, with a touch that well-nigh amounted to genius. All p

ommon-sense; to others

g rounds of applause, and Dennis, the waiter,

straightway took the floor. The Minister, kindly oblivious of his cloth, fiddled on; Miss P