“Maybe you like Taft?”
The alien shook his tawny head dumbly.
“Well, now, look here then, you must have some opinion,” said the visitor. “You and your neighbors must have talked the thing over among yourselves. Who do you think has the best show?”
The simple Swede gave this question lengthy consideration. Then, with a faint change of expression, he said:
“Aye tank Ringling Brothers got the best show.”
Then there is the time-honored yarn of the Swede farm-hand in Minnesota who, on the witness stand, was called upon by the attorney for the railroad to furnish details touching on the tragic death of a companion.
“Aye tell you,” he answered. “Me and Ole we bane walkin’ on railroad track. Train come by and Aye yump off track. By and by, when train is gone, Aye don’t see Ole any more, so Aye walk on and pretty soon Aye see one of Ole’s arms on one side of track and one of Ole’s legs on other side of track, and then pretty soon Aye see Ole’s head, but Ole’s body is not there, so Aye stop and Aye say to myself, ‘By Yupiter, something must a’ happened to Ole!’ ”
§ 341 Calling for Night Work, Too
A well-known public lecturer occasionally tells this story on the platform as illustrative of the enterprise and instinctive commercial sagacity of the young American. He vouches for it as an actual personal experience. His version of it runs somewhat as follows:
“Two summers ago I was motoring up in New England. Taking a short cut over a dirt road I ran into a miry place and the car bogged down and stuck fast. Providentially, as it would seem, a farmer boy immediately hove into sight, driving a team of big horses. I entered into negotiations with him and the upshot was that for two dollars he agreed to undertake the job of rescuing me from my predicament. The price seemed reasonable and we closed the bargain.