Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1872-03-05
Country Taverns.
| like country tavernsl
That is, some of theml

IL.
THESE country taverns, where q
Dig lat man plays checkers and sleeps
IN the bar>room in q chair beside a
dog, while his pale, back aching,
slckly, overworked wife picks chick
ems, washes dishes, makes dumplinf g,
mends chidren's clothes, makes beds
sweeps out rooms, empties slops,
patches her husbands breeches and
scratches her back for his board and
two calico dresses a yearl
There is fun in stopping at some
country taverns
Where they have but one towel
for two persons, and that towel
cotton one.
Where the windows rattle like
bag-full of shin-bones struck by
lightning.
Where there is four-quart water
pitcher full of settings, aud only q
two.qnart slop vessel, and no place
to empty it except in the stove.
Where tho curtains to the windows
were only made by spiders, and all
the world can look in to see you pull
off your boots and things
Where the pillow is soft and dim
pied like fat baby's fist, and i'll
your ear be not covered with a post
age stamp, the darned slimpsey thing
works into your head before morn
ing, making you feel like a billy
goat with the catarrh
Where tho feather-bed is filled
with hens heads, pigs toes, necks of
paregoric walls, butter-nut shells
broken.up pitcher-handles, boot heels,
spelllng-book covers, broken goose
quilts, ROSTERS tails and bits Of car
pet-rags.
Where the beadstead weaves to-
and-tro, like a timothy with a bum
ble1bee on the top OF il, and the en-
tire contrivance sQueaks and groaus
when you get in, turn over or get
out, like jackass with the humps.
Where the under sheet was chang
ed in June, and tho upper one in Jan
uary, all in the name of neatness
Where the covers are few and too
short every where, except in the mid
die, and the wind blowing through
broken glass full and furious onto
your threadbare head.
Where the little stove in the cor
ncr is full of ashes, tho wood too
long for the stove, the sap not yet
out of the wood, the kindling in the
barn and the boy TO build fire not
yet hired.
Where the landlord comes into your
room without knocking, just as you
have your head hid in the folds of IA
night-shirt, and says Never mind,
it's only me or asks you if you
know Of anybody who wants to buy
o good hotel
Where the matches are not TO be
found, and the only way TO call
servant j. 10 throw q water pitcher
downstairs, break door down, cry
fire, and then take your pick from
the astonished folks who come to see
what is up
Where the little slice Of soap
smells OF fish-oil. so that you think
your grandfather was number two
mackerel.
Where there is not q nail in the
room on which To hang clothes, or
chair in which to sit while your wife
is letting down her best back hair.
Where the only glass or tumbler
in the room is soap-dish, and the
water for cleansing teeth is thick
and ropy, like the last will and tess
lament of a drunken politician
Where they have rump.steak for
tenderloin melted lard for gravey,
soggy potatoes and fried pork il
chunks, sailing in dish Of grease. as
when il first came into the world
Where the peper>box lid drops off
into your eggs, the salt is ~ the
other end OF the table, the vinegar
bottle carpetcd inside with dead flies
in soak, and the crackers covered
with periods, 30 called.
Where the pie crust is q cross be-
tween tripe and juju paste
Where the pancakes are white as
soap.suds soaked thumb, or half fill
Cd with butter, like a boys mouth
with worms when be goeth forth to
fish for bulheads.
Where the tablecloth is soied and
spotted like a map Of the Indian
Archipelago, or Chinese sailor just
over tho smallpox.
Where the moIasses Jug has not
been cleaned since The death of John
Brown,
Where the piece Of meat brought
on your plate is covered with grease,
like a cross-cut saw on winter
morning.
Where the plates are colder than
the gable end Of an ice house.
Where the landlady pours tea with
pipe in her mouth. and the dining
room help blow their noses on the
napkins
Who're fire il never made when
you order (.
When you are not called till the
train has started, because that darn.
ed boy forgot,
Where loaters sit up 10 the bar
room under your bedroom, telling
smutty stories till midnight-where
dogs aud young ones race up and
down an uncarpeted ball in the morn
ing, when you are trying 10 sleep.
Where the one who calls an early
riser next room, hammers on the
door, and yelIs Till you would think
Vulcan ADD Gabriel had arrived on
drunk
Where sappy-noscd children come