Witty Pieces by Witty People Read online

in landing dudes.

  --_Ocean._

  Claus Spreckels wants to build houses of sugar. If an apartment buildingof this material is erected we are willing to take a sweet of rooms.

  --_Lawrence American._

  MR. BOWSER IN THE COUNTRY.

  He Enjoys Fresh Air and Mosquitoes to His Heart's Content--His OriginalMethod of Milking Not Indorsed by the Cow.

  "Well, what do you think!" exclaimed Mr. Bowser as he came hurrying homefrom the office the other afternoon.

  "Have you gone and got some more hens or bought another horse?"

  "Mrs. Bowser, the event of our life is about to happen."

  "What is it?"

  "You know Gregg? Well, Gregg owns a little farm out here about twelvemiles. There's a good house on it, and he says we can occupy it for thesummer. We will have a cow and a horse, pigs, poultry and other stock,and we'll go out there and tan up and get fat and have the best time inthe world."

  "I don't think much of the idea, Mr. Bowser."

  "You don't. You don't want cool breezes--fresh eggs--fresh berries--richmilk--songs of birds--lowing of the kine and rest from care!"

  "You will be disappointed if you expect any such thing."

  "I will, eh? Perhaps I don't know what the country is. You are alwaysready to throw cold water on any of my plans. I shall go, anyhow."

  That was the beginning, and at the end of three days I yielded,womanlike.

  One Monday morning we took the train and started, having engaged afarmer's daughter to take charge of the kitchen, and at the nearestrailroad station we were met by a farmer and his lumber wagon. The sunpoured down its hottest, the dust had covered grass and bushes, and aswe jogged and jolted along the farmer queried of Mr. Bowser:

  "Come out for your health, I suppose?"

  "We did. Ah! this country air has already refreshed me."

  "Has, eh? Well, there's heaps of it, and I'm thinking you'll get all youwant in about a week. I think a city chap is a blamed fool to come outhere."

  "Do you? Why, the doctors recommended it. That boy ought to gain apound a day, and I am sure my wife will brace right up with thesepastoral scenes before her eyes."

  "The doctors and pastoral scenes be darned!" growled the farmer, as heturned to his horses, and those were the last words he uttered until helanded us at the gate.

  It was a comfortable frame house, and I did not observe the surroundingsuntil after dinner. The barn had partly fallen in, giving it a weird andlonely look; most of the fencing was down, a gust of wind had laid thesmoke-house on its back, and nearly every tree and bush about the housewas dead or dying.

  "Is this one of the pastoral scenes you referred to?" I asked Mr.Bowser.

  "There you go!" he snapped. "You can't expect things to look as nice outhere as in Central Park. We come for the balmy breezes and the rest."

  "You spoke of hunting hens' eggs in the meadow grass."

  "So we will--come on."

  He made a dash for a big patch of burdocks near the back door, gottangled up in the ruins of a barrel, and when he got up he had a cut onhis chin and his nose was bleeding. He tried to make light of theaffair, but it was hard work.

  When I asked after the horse and vehicle in which we were to take ourmorning jaunts he walked down to the barnyard and pointed out araw-boned old yellow horse, so weak that he could not brush the fliesaway, and a one-horse wagon, quaint enough to have taken its place in amuseum.

  "You'll have our photographs taken after we all get seated in that rig,won't you?" I asked.

  "That's it; just as I expected. Mrs. Bowser, what did you come out herefor?"

  "Because you obliged me to."

  "I did, eh! Not by a long shot! You came to restore your health and togive our child a chance for his life. It will be the making of him. Nomore doctor's bills for us."

  In the afternoon Mr. Bowser swung his hammock in the orchard. This wassomething he had doted on for a week. He had scarcely dropped into itwhen three or four caterpillars dropped on to him, and he put in therest of the afternoon on the hard boards of the veranda. The cow camesauntering up about 5 o'clock, covered with flies and mosquitoes, andthe girl hinted to Mr. Bowser that he was expected to milk.

  "Oh, certainly," he replied. "I wouldn't give a cent for farm lifeunless I could milk a cow or two. I used to sing a ballad while I wasmilking."

  The girl and I watched him as he took the pail and stool and approachedthe cow. The cow also watched him. Folks generally sit down on theright-hand side of the cow to milk. Mr. Bowser took the other side.

  "What are you trying to do?" I called to him from the gate.

  "Mrs. Bowser, when I want to learn anything about a cow I'll ask you forthe information. I think I know my business."

  So did the cow. She had been fooled with long enough, and she suddenlyplanted a hoof against Mr. Bowser with such vigor that he tumbled overin a confused heap. Between us we got him into the house, and the girlfinished the milking. Mr. Bowser recovered from the shock after a while,and I felt it my duty to inquire:

  "Mr. Bowser, don't you think a week of these pastoral scenes will beenough for us?"

  "No, nor six weeks!" he growled. "Nothing would do but you must go intothe country, and now I'll give you enough of it."

  "Why, Mr. Bowser?"

  "You needn't why Mr. Bowser me! You gave me no peace until I agreed tocome, and now I'll remain here five straight years."

  When the summer sun went down and the stars came out we were not ashappy as we might have been. Mr. Bowser still held his hand on hisstomach, the baby cried because the milk tasted of wild onions, and thegirl lost the old oaken bucket in the thirty-foot well while getting apail of fresh water. I asked Mr. Bowser when the kine would begin to lowand the whippoorwills to sing, and he was so mad he wouldn't speak.However, if the kine didn't low, the pinchbugs and mosquitoes did. Therewasn't a screen at door or window, and soon after sundown we werebesieged.

  That night seemed never ending. No one of us three slept a wink. Theroom was invaded with every insect known to country life, from a bat toa gnat.

  When we got up in the morning the girl didn't know us. We were blotchedand bitten until one would have suspected us of suffering with smallpox.Mr. Bowser knew himself, however, and before noon we were back in thecity. He scarcely spoke to me all the way home, but once in the house heburst out with:

  "Now, old lady, prepare for a settlement! You've nosed me round all youever will. This has broken the camel's back. Which of us applies for adivorce?"

  --_Detroit Free Press._

  A "TOUGH" CASE.]

  JAMES--Hello, Gus, where have you been? Never see you at the old place.

  GUS (swell about town)--No, de fact is, James, me boy, dey has gotchicken for de free lunch dere.

  The Hard Luck of Some People.

  "Tell yo' w'at, Mars' Parson," remarked Uncle Cocklesole, as he sat onthe sill of a second-story window and looked down on the mountedmissionary and the receding waters, "tell yo' wat it ar', ef hard luckdon't jus' play leap frawg wid some sinners an' lan' wid fo' feet onudders, den I'm squinch-eyed in mer judgmen'. Dere's Jim Rasselbait!What de flood do for him? Swup his leaben chillen off de carf an' tu'nedde stove ober in de cabin so dat hit b'un up an he git a hun'ereddollars inshu'ance, an' dar he am, jus' scused ob car and 'sponsibility,goin' eround town rich as Crusoe an' no one ter lay claim ter one singleper centum ob de money. An' der's merse'f. Blame ef de waters didn'tjus' do nuffin to mer cabin but ransack all de furnicher, an' afterhustlin' mer wife and chillens off in a way ter make a feller 'spiciondey's gone fo' good, blame ef they didn't leggo ob 'em jus' roun' deben', an yer dey is all back ergin an' me wid no inshuance, and noprovenger in de house ter s'ply 'em wid. Talk erbout ekal rights! Hit'sonly fellers like Jim Rasselbait, w'at's bo'n wid a coil, dat gits 'emall."

 
--_Yonkers Gazette._

  A Disastrous Clerical Error.

  Government Clerk (to friend)--I'm in a frightful hole. I went to see twodoctors yesterday and got a medical certificate from each. One was acertificate of health for a life insurance company, and the other was acertificate of illness to send to the chief with my petition for aweek's leave of absence.

  Friend--I've done that myself. What's the matter?

  G. C.--Matter? Great Scott! I mixed the certificates in mailing them.The insurance company