"Ah, indeed, then how do you account for it blowing from the north just now?"
"That's easy enough, sir—you see it's the same old south wind on its road back again."
That landlord was a jewel, and afforded me considerable entertainment during my sojourn; but he had a neighbor, a stout German farmer, who took the cake when it came to doing business.
Le'me tell you about his experience with the insurance agent, for it was certainly laughable, though old Platzenburger didn't see it that way.
It seems that the house of the farmer, insured for a thousand dollars, had burned down. The privilege of replacing a burned house is reserved by insurance companies and the agent, having this in mind, said to the farmer:
"We'll put you up a better house than the one you had for six hundred dollars."
"Nein!" said Platzenburger, emphatically. "I vill have my one tousand dollar or notings! Dot house could not be built again for even a tousand."
"Oh, yes, it could," said the insurance man. "It was an old house. It doesn't cost so much to build houses nowadays. A six-hundred-dollar new house would be a lot bigger and better than the old one."
Some months later, when the insurance man was out for a day's shooting, he rode up again to the farmer's place.
"Just thought I'd stop while I was up here," he said, "to see if you wanted to take out a little insurance."