"Going Up"
SMITH—"Do you realize that we are beholding the completion of a great cycle in history?"
JONES—"Explain."
"Three hundred and six years ago the island of Manhattan was bought from the Indians for six quarts of whisky."
"Well?"
"Well?—Within six months, maybe, the descendants of those Indians will be able to buy it back for the same price."
I, U.S. Boose, realizing that the jag is up, declare this to be my last will and testament: To my beloved Cocktail I bequeath three-fourths of my evil estate, and to my faithful Highball I leave a large share of the blame. To my sister, Wine, I give the family grapevine and kitchen still. To my cousin, Cider, I bequeath the old apple orchard and enough wormy fruit to keep the country moist and my memory green.
"So you're a moonshiner?" remarked the interested tourist. The lanky mountaineer drew himself up haughtily.