The Sly Way in Which Prohibition Works.
A week or two ago a well-known dealer in live stock of this city went over to Washington County to make a deal with a big stock raiser, who is also prominent as a strict Prohibitionist. The cattle having been inspected and the price agreed upon, the Washington County man retired to the house to make out a receipt and so on, leaving the Pittsburgher in his son's hands. As soon as the old man had disappeared indoors his son, a bright lad, nearing his majority, said to the Pittsburgher:
"This is rather dry work talking all day, ain't it?"
The Pittsburgher vehemently assented.
"Well," continued the young man, "I've a bottle out in the haymow, and we might as well get a taste of the stuff while dad's not by."
The Pittsburgher said "yes" again, and the two repaired to the haymow and looked upon the contents of the black bottle. Then the young Washingtonian hid the bottle in the haymow, saying as he did so: "Don't tell the old man anything about this—he's awful down on drinking."
Of course the Pittsburgher vowed silence as he smacked his lips and left the barn. Two minutes later he was in the house paying over the money to the old stock raiser. After the business in hand had been dispatched and the bargain had been closed the Pittsburgher was about to take his leave, when the old man said, rather awkwardly: "Say, are you feelin' dry? I've a jug down in the cellar, and the liquor's fine."
It is hardly necessary to say they were soon in the cellar. As the old Prohibitionist drained his glass he said to his guest: "Don't say nothing 'bout this to them boys o' mine—they don't know about the jug!"
—Pittsburgh Dispatch.