A fashion item says, “The drawers this year are made very short, and some have lace ruffles.” Some fashion reporter has evidently been looking over our back fence at the clothes line. But they got awfully fooled. The shortness of those drawers was caused by the flannel shrinking and the “lace ruffles” the reporter noticed is where a calf chewed them when they were hanging out to dry last fall on Black Hawk Island, when a gun kicked us out of a boat. Some of these fashion reporters think they are smart.
[A LECTURER SHOULD KNOW WHAT HE TALKS ABOUT.]
A man down east is lecturing on “Hell, Ingersoll, and Whisky.” If the lecturer is at all familiar with his subjects, we wouldn’t believe him under oath.
PECK’S BAD BOY AND HIS PA.
[HIS PA GOES CALLING.]
“Say, you are getting too alfired smart,” said the grocery man to the bad boy as he pushed him into a corner by the molasses barrel, and took him by the neck and choked him so his eyes stuck out. “You have driven away several of my best customers, and now, confound you, I am going to have your life,” and he took up a cheese knife and began to sharpen it on his boot.
“What’s the—gurgle—matter?” asked the choking boy, as the grocery man’s finger let up on his throat a little, so he could speak. “I haint done nothing.”
“Didn’t you hang up that gray torn cat by the heels, in front of my store, with the rabbits I had for sale? I didn’t notice it until the minister called me out in front of the store, and pointing to the rabbits, asked what good fat cats were selling for. By crimus, this thing has got to stop. You have got to move out of this ward or I will.”