Used ha’f for herself and the ca’f had ha’f,
But he bellered all day and he blatted all night,
And he hollered for his rations so tough and tight,
That the widder she fed him one last, square meal,
And the next he knowed he was peddled for veal.
Oh, nice little ca’ves that is bein’ weaned,
Shouldn’t keep blattin’ when the cow’s been dreened.”
—Effort by “Rhymester” Tuttle.
Of the four strap-bottomed “company chairs” in Squire Look’s office, “three had spavins and the other the blind staggers,” as old Uncle Lysimachus Buck expressed it. But by dint of balancing on the sound legs or bracing against the wall at the right angle, or by extreme care in easing one’s self into a safe position, the loafers who dropped in to smoke managed to worry along. When the wood box cover was shut down that made a seat for two. As for clients, when the chairs were occupied clients were glad to roost on a corner of the big table and rap their heels with great ease of manner and comfort of person.
The Squire’s visitors sat down and as promptly lighted their pipes.