The times. (Owosso, Mich.) 1882-1897, 1882-10-06

L. Why don't you finish covering
your house and stop the leaksP --
S. It's been rainin' all day.
L. Well, why don't You do it in dry
weather.
S. 1t don't leak, then.
Il. AS there seems to be nothing
alive about your place but children, how
do you do here, anyhow
S. Putty well, THANK you. How do
you do YOURSELF
T. mean, what do you do for a
living herep
S. Keep tavern, and sell whisky.
t. Well. told you that l wanted
some whisky.
S. Stranger, bought a bar'l MORN
a week ago. You see, me and Sal
went shars. AFTER we got it here we
only had a bit betweenst us, and Sal she
didn't want to use hern fust, nor me
mine. You see, had spiggin in one
end, and she in t'other. So she takes
drink out'n my end, and pays me the
bit for it; then I'd take one outn hern,
and give her the bit. Well, we's get
ting long fust-rate till Dick, burned
skulking skunk, he bor'n hole on the
bottom to suck at, and the next time l
went to buy drink there want none
thar.
T. I'm sorry your whisky's all
gone, but, my friend, why don't you
play the balance of that tuner
S. It's got no balance to it.
T. mean you don't play the whole
of it.
S. Stranger, can you play the fiddulp
L. Yes; little, sometimes.
S. You don't look like a fiddlur, but
eff you think you can play any more on
to that thar tune, you kin just try it.
(The traveller takes the fiddle and
plays the whole of it.
S. Stranger, tuck half-a-dozen cheers
and sot down. Sal, stir yourself round
like six-horse team in a mud-hole., Go
round in the holler where killed that
buck this mornin', cut off some OF the
best pieces, and fetch it and cook it for
me and this gentleman Directly. Raise
up the board under the head of the bed,
and get the old black jug l hid from
Dick, and gin us some whisky. l
know there's some left yit. Til, drive
ole Bose out'n the bread-tray; then
climb up in the loft and git the rag
that's got the sugar tied in it. Dick,
carry the gentleman's boss round under
the shed, and give him some fodder and
corn, much as he kin eat.
Til. Dad, they amt knifes enuff for
to sot the table.
S. Whar's big butch, little butch,
old case, cob-handle, granny's knife,
and the one handled Yesterday That's
enuff to sot any gentleman's table. out'n
you lost um. Durn me, stranger, eff
you can't stay rs long as you please,
and I'll give you plenty to eat and
drink. Will you have coffey for supper?
T. Yes, sir.
S. I'll be hanged if you do, tho.
We don't have nothin' that way here
but grub Hyson, and reckon it's
mighty good with sweetenin'. Play
away, stranger; you kin sleep on the
dry spot tonight.
T.. (After about two hours fiddling.)
My FRIEND can't you tell me about the
road Pm to travel tomorrow?
S, Tomorrow! Stranger, you won't
get out'n these diggins for six weeks.
But when it gifts so you kin start, you
see that big sloo over tharp Well, you
nave W III CIOsb tusiJ, IHcu YOU tdhc Viz
road up the bank, and in about a mile
you'll come to atwo-acre-and-a-half corn
patch. The corn's mitily in the weeds,
but you needn't mind that; just ride on.
About mile and half or two miles
from there you'll come to the d--dest
swamp you ever struck in all your
travels; it's DOGGY enuff to mire sad
dle-blanket. Thar's fust-rate road
about six feet under thar
Il. How am to get at itp
S. You can't get at it nary q time
till the weather stiffens down sum.
Well, about mile byeant you come to
o place whar thar's no roads. You kin
take the right hand Of you want to;
you'll folier it mile or so, and you'll
find it's run out; you'll then have to
come back and try the left; when you
git about two miles on that you'll know
you are wrong, fur they amt any road
thar You'll then think you're nifty
lucky to find the way back to my house,
whar you kin come and play on that or
tune as long as you please.