“You don’t mean to say you made that all up as you went along?”
“Yes.”
“Jess hopped right up there, took a drink o’ water out of the pitcher, hit the table a whack and waded in without no thinkin’ nor nothing?”
“Well, I suppose you might put it that way.”
“Well, that beats me. You’ll excuse me for stoppin’ you, but what I wanted to say was that your speech convinced me, though I knowed all the time it was the peskiest lie that was ever told. I made up my mind to vote your ticket, but I’d ’a’ been willin’ to bet a peck o’ red apples that no man could stand up and tell such blamed convincin’ lies without havin’ ’em writ out. You must ’a’ had an awful lot o’ practice.”
“WHO’D ’A’ BIN ’ER?”
A lady living in Ohio is the mother of six boys. One day a friend called on her, and during the conversation said: “What a pity that one of your boys had not been a girl.” One of the boys, about eight years old, overheard the remark, and promptly interposed, “I’d like to know who’d ’a’ bin ’er. Ed wouldn’t ’a’ bin ’er, Joe wouldn’t ’a’ bin ’er, Pete wouldn’t ‘a’ bin ’er, I wouldn’t ’a’ bin ’er, blame ef I would, an’ I’d like to know who’d ’a’ bin ’er?”
“IN THE WAY THEY SHOULD GO”
Mrs. Hobbs was the parent of an infant terror and several half-grown terrors besides. One day at table she said, “Well, Mr. Hobbs, since you are so dissatisfied with the way I am bringing up our darling Willie, maybe you will condescend to inform me how you would bring up boys?”
“Certainly,” said Hobbs. “Every boy ought to be kept in a hogshead, and fed through the bung-hole until he is twelve years of age.”