A FEW FOURTH OF JULY HINTS.
I.—When the Fourth of July is not more than a week or two off, it is well to make your preparations fittingly to celebrate the glorious Independence day, and not wait until the day itself to get ready.
II.—To enjoy thoroughly all the pleasures of the blissful anniversary, purchase a pair of tight-fitting asbestos gloves. With a pair of asbestos gloves on, you could hold the pin of a pin-wheel in your hand without getting your hand burned.
III.—Be very kind in these late June days to your uncles and your aunts and your grandmothers. When the writer was a small boy he was very kind to seven uncles, six aunts, and two grandmothers for fourteen days before the Fourth of July, with the result that the seven uncles gave him half a dollar each, the six aunts presented him with a quarter apiece, and the two grandmothers joined in presenting him with a five-dollar bill, so that on the morning of the Fourth of July he was the proud possessor of ten dollars; and ten dollars, with fire-crackers selling at the rate of ten for one cent, meant that the writer could have had 10,000 fire-crackers to set off. It must be said, however, that he set off only 5000 of them, and spent the balance on soda-water, two glasses of which, like a good boy, he gave to his two grandmothers.
IV.—When the Fourth comes do not forget to rise up at half past three in the morning. There is not much fun in setting off fire-crackers in broad daylight when everybody is wide-awake; and besides this, the big boys always start in with cannon, and if you lie in bed after half past three you are apt to miss the greatest noise of the day.
V.—If you live in a neighborhood where there are a number of reckless boys, do not fail to wear a mask. Reckless boys do not look where they throw their lighted crackers, as a rule, and it has happened that innocent little fellows have had their noses burned by the carelessness of others. A mask will save the bridge of your nose, and of course you all know that if the bridge of your nose is burned it is a hard thing to get over.
VI.—Do not throw your torpedoes at the poor little cats that wander forlornly about. The poor little cats are so soft that the torpedoes merely hurt them, without going off, so that neither you nor the cats can possibly enjoy the fun of it.
VII.—Keep on the right side of the cook. Do not irritate her, and give her to understand that she is the dearest, nicest old cook in the world, for she is the custodian of all the empty lard and mustard cans in the house; and when you come right down to it, there is more fun and noise to be had out of a bundle of fire-crackers set off in a lard or mustard can than in two packs touched off in the open air. And what is more, if you burn your fingers she will in most cases be the person you can reach the quickest, and who will soothe your trouble and pain by putting flour and butter on your blisters.
VIII.—Be careful where you lay your lighted pieces of punk. The writer once put a lighted piece of punk on the floor of the back piazza, and, forgetting it, sat down upon it five minutes later. There was an explosion right away, of grief.
IX.—Be generous to your little girl friends. Remember that when your fire-crackers have given out they may have some torpedoes left.