A Poor Crop.
An old acquaintance of Uncle Abe's called upon him a short time since with the view to getting hold of a contract. Uncle Abe told him that contracts were not what they were in Cameron's time. "In fact," said he, "they remind me now of a piece of meadow land on the Sangamon bottoms during a drouth."
"How was that?" said the Sucker—"Why," said Abe, looking rather quizical, "the grass was so short that they had to lather before they could mow it."