“‘I don’t know’s I ought,’ said Jake, but after a little more persuasion he went. About fifteen minutes were consumed in miscellaneous discussion of crops, when breakfast was ready.
“‘Set by, Jake, and hev a bite ter eat,’ invited the still hospitable farmer.
“‘Now, act’ly, Silas, I don’t know’s I orter stay so long. Ye see, ’taint’s though I didn’t ’preciate yer kindness, but my roof’s afire, and I cum over ter borrer a ladder.’”—New York Times.
WHERE TWO CLIMATES MEET.
A “digger” from California, eulogizing the climate, said:
“There’s a mountain there—the Sawyer Nevady, they call it—with a valley on each side of it, the one hot, the other cold. Well, get on the top of that mountain with a double-barreled gun, and you can, without moving, kill summer or winter game, just as you will.”
“What! Have you ever tried it?” asked one of his auditors.
“Tried! Often—and would have done pretty well but for one thing.”
“Well, what was that?”
“I wanted a dog that would stand both climates. The last dog I had froze his tail while huntin’ on the summer side. He didn’t get entirely out of the winter side, you know, sir.”—Old scrap book.