The Arizona sentinel., 1875-11-13
An Iowa Mans Experience With
Tacks Titles.

Ht IIldH Sdlu III We iOCotCu ~ ohJ
where near Maple street he'd cut
our lungs out, and although we
dearly love the truth, we love life
more, and have therefore violated
the truth at least seventy-five
miles in locating this item. In Or
der to save our life, which Is dear
to community which we love to
serve. Well, the mans wife had
taken up the carpet in the bath
room the day before, and put all
the crooked tackS in saucer and
put it on a chair. 1t is a marvel
Gus thing why women will always
save the tacks that come out of
carpet, although it is a matter of
record that out of the countless
millions of tacks thus laid by, not
one was ever used again save on
the sOles of bare masculine feet.
They, the tacks, not the feet, are
slowed away in saucers up on
high shelves, in dark closets and
all sorts of Out-Of- tn e. way and I'M
heard of places. And on these
dusty perches they remain until
the corroding hand of time, and
dust, and spider webs, and dead
flies, and fakes of whIteWash, and
old bits of roSin, and chunks of
sealing. wax, and old steel pens,
and similar accumulations, have
filled the saucer to overlooking,
when it is taken down and thrown
away by the woman who petulant-
ly wonders who under the sun
put all that trash in the saucer
and stuck it up there. And nine
times out of ten she charges the
crime on her husband. The tenth
time she declares it was the hired
girl. And always, before the sau.
Ger of crooked tacks is slowed
away on the shelf, it Is stuck
around for three or four days, on
chairs and in corners of the room,
spilling out occasional tacks on
the carpet of every bedroom in
the house, which fill the mascu-
line sOles with agony, and darken
the air Of the bedroom with in
artistic but fOrcible profanity.
Nothing is so painful as a crooked
tack in the middle of ones foot.
A broken heart doesn't hold half
so much anguish, and a boil is a
blessing in comparison.
This man who lives so far from
Maple street has q splendid bath,
and when he had rubbed his skin
into a glow with a crash towel as
rough as pigs back, he gather
ed his socks and backing up to the
only chair in the room, sat down
to put them on.
Every. tack in that saucer saw
him coming down.
Every last tack smiled in antici-
patton of the denOuement and
stood on its head and reached for
him.
Every last solitary individual
and collective tack fetched him,
got him, and held to him.
He dropped his socks and rose
from that chair with an abrupt
ness that knocked his head against
the ceiling. He came down and
Waltzed wildly round and round
the room, shrieking and yelling,
gyrating madly with his arms,
while his eyes stuck out so far
that they hung down. He howl
ed until the neighbors besieged
the house, yet he wouldn't let any
of them in. At last his yells died
away, but they could hear his
breath hiss between his set teeth,
while at short intervals would
come yell. supplemented by the
remark, "There's another out"
In about three-quarters of an hour
the yells ceased entirely, the win
dow was opened and a shower of
tacks fell over the assembled and
wondering multitude, while a
large saucer skinned across the
street aud smashed against the
side of house opposite.
Nobody knows what ails the
man, for he will not tell anyone a
thing about it. But he takes his
meals off the mantelpiece all the
same, and when he sits, he sits
down on his hip, for all the world
as though he wore "tied back"
But he doesn't. It's a tackled
hack that ails him. -Burljngton
! HOlUkeUe.