“Horn Comb.”—This simple little unsophistikated instrument haz beheaded countless legions ov innocent children.
I don’t mean that it haz cut oph their heads, but that it haz cut its way thru the hirsute embossing that adorns their skalps.
It haz two rows of sharp teeth, and always haz a good appetite.
It iz always az ready for a job az a village lawyer, and iz az thorough az a sarch warrent.
It iz an emblem of faith and neatness.
When it gits old and looses its teeth it should be cherished, hung up and labeled, “Well done old mouser.”
I always look upon an old and worn out horn tooth comb with a species ov venerashun, bordering on melankolly. It reminds me ov mi boyhood, and the boyish things that waz running through mi head in thoze days ov simplicity and innocence.
Thare iz a grate menny other kinds ov horns, but I haint got the time to tell yu all about them now. Thare iz the “Powder Horn,” the “Horn ov the Bull Head,” and the “Horn ov Plenty;” and there iz also “Horn Tooke,” a celebrated writer ov hiz day; but good-by for the present.
KISSING.
I hav written essays on kissing before this one, and they didn’t satisfy me, nor dew I think this one will, for the more a man undertakes tew tell about a kiss, the more he will reduce his ignorance tew a science.