The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1880-11-26
The Village Hotel yeranda.

After supper we march into the Office
In Indian file, arm ourselves with poplar
toothpicks, and then all march out and
take seats on the hotel veranda and hold
q convention. II you have never taken
part in one of these gatherings on the
veranda of village hotel you have
missed good thing. The audience in
cludes every phase of human nature.
The discussion usually opens between
the village blacksmith and farmer, and
1t starts on the weather.
The blacksmith asserts that we have
had too much rain. The farmer can't
agree. The undertaken, who used to
farm it, then joins in with the remark
that he has seen seasons when we had
more rain, and seasons when we didn't
have as much. This calls out the shoe
maker, who can remember one year
when it didn't rain from the twentieth
of March to the first of October. While
was, the cooper tilts back his chair and
asserts that he can distinctly recall o
year in which it rained every day from
the first of May to the middle of Novem.
ber. He can remember it all the more
distinctly because his father believed
that a second deluge was coming, and
spent two months trying to make a
water tight Noah's ark of the horse
barn. He can't tell the exact year with
out going distance of six miles to ex-
anime some old documents, but rather
than have his word disputed, he would
willingly go to that trouble. No one
doubts, him, however, and he sits down
to give room to the man whose three
year-old colt has been impaled on fence
stake, and who wants q cure for the
wound. Here follows a discussion on
horses, lasting fifteen minutes. and it is
about to cross the line and take up mules
when an old man spits over the heads OF
three boys in line and says:
II don't know much about horses,
but If had one, and he should drive
fence-stake clear through him, believe
l should grease the stake and pick off
the slivers before pulled it outl l tell
ye horses can't stand everything. no
more n man can"
Whatever new discussion might be
created by this bold assertion is barred
by the appearance of villager who
made the trip to California in overland
days. No one knows just how much
money he brought back. The estimate
runs all the way from two shillings to
$4,000, but he is discreetly silent as to
thO CAaSb ulaOunb. lhClC 10 OuC luluR
certain, however. He killed upward oil
fifty Indians, dozen grizzly bears, and
over hundred buffalos while he was
gone, and that settles the question of
his being entitled to command the
parade on the fourth of July. A move
is about to be made to draw him out
on wild Western scenes, when somebody
suddenly recollects that old Uncle Jerry
is lying at the point of death. Every
body seems to feel bad for a moment,
and then it is remembered how he made
his wife 60 birefooted in winter. lent
money at fourteen per cent, snd
whipped yoke of steers to death, and
the tide slowly turns. There is one
question, however, on which all are
agreed. Uncle Jerry, during his palmy
days, once shouldered barrel of cider
and carried it forty rods.
"Yes, and seed him do it, "sighs the
old man behind me. Fact of it was,
it was all on my account, and 1 beat
him pretty bad. / was up to Fuller's
cider mill arter barrel of the sweet,
when Uncle Jerry came along with
bouncing three-year- steer. We got
to bantering,. and we finally agreed that
il l could lift his steer was to have him,
and he was to have the cider if he could
shoulder it. l don't keer to tnag around
now in my old age. but thhk lifted
that steer without even growin' red in
the face. Uncle Jerry turned as white
as sheet, and l thought he'd faint
away, but he stuck to his word, and
took the steer hum. He got heap o.
cred it al over the county for liftin' that
cider, and never let on that lifted the
steer, and that's one thing I've kinder
laid up agin the old man."
Then the next man lies about the
of crows he cav in Kansas, and
50 we go until it is sharp ten O'Clock and
the mosquitoes begin to hunger for
evening lunch. Then they bid each
other goodnight and separate to meet
and lie again.-M. Quad.