"Oh," said the narrator, with some indignation, "it is well known that partridges huddle together in just that way."
"Go on," they said.
"When the rabbit fell its head struck the bunch of heads and killed all the partridges." (Laughter.)
"When the man had picked up the partridges he went to the hollow tree and cut it down. He got back fifty bushels of corn, and it proved to be a bee tree, so that he got ten barrels of honey. Not only this, but the top of the tree fell in the stream, and the creek ran sweet for twenty years."
This took the cake, which will be served next Sunday.
P. S.—There is no space here to tell about the Georgia hen that turned gray after the snakes got her chickens, or the young partridges that afterward hatched under her sitting and became the solace of her declining years. All this and much more I would tell if I had time.
—W. G. C. in Atlanta Constitution.