The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1885-11-26

An Irishman's Perplexities.
When the writer was "broth of q
boy" well-to-do freshman, just from
the Aud Sad, bought q farm and set
tied in our neighborhood. Sir Patrick,
as We called him on account of his
knightly ways, didn't know any more
about farming than q professor in an
agricultural college, but he kept close
eye on his neighbors, and shaped his
course according to their doings. In
those days maple sugar was farm sta
pie and most people manufactured their
own sweetness, and never used the
store variety except when they had
company. When the sugar-making
season commenced, Sir Patrick watched
1t with much interest for a few days,
until he felt that he knew all about IT.,
and then he sailed in on his own ac-
count, but there seemed to be a hitch
somewhere, and he took Jug of syrup
over to his nearest neighbor to find out
what was tine matter.
Would We do me the favor to put
yer tongue to thot, Mr.. Watson, if We
PLACE, an till me the occasion of it's not
balm loike yer own; for by all the
saints. it's no more av j'y to me, now
thot have made it, than the divil HIM
silf. Sure, an have bhilt it too fasht
or too SHOW, do we think, Mr.. Watson,
or,fhat's wrong with it, onyway?"
Old Watson tasted the syrup, unused,
shook his head, and then tasted it
again. 1t had flavor that was new
and peculiar, and nothing outside OF a
green persimmon could twist up the
face and pull in the cheeks equal to it.
The old man kept tasting at it, and
Eliminating over its wonderful proper
ty, until lac could scarcely speak above
q whisper, but the moro he scratched
his head and puzzled over the mystery,
the more he couldn't understand it.
"Fhat do we soiy, Mr.. Watson? lis it
the bhilin', do We think, thot's wrong,
sure?" inquired Sir Patrick, after
watching the facial contortions of Wat
son for some time with much interest.
"No; it hain't that, said the farmer.
"Hev you been stowin' the sap in vim
egar bar1s?"
mo, sor; no, sor; 1 have not, Mr..
Watson. L have not, sor."
"Well, then, I'll jes' be burned if
Their hain't somethin' the matter with
yer camp. Watch the kittles, boys,
an I'll go over an see what sort of a
mess he's made of it. I've been bilin'
sap for forty year n more, an L never
struck nothin' like this afore."
And the two went away together In
the course of an hour Watson came
back with broad grin on his face, and
said:
1T was jes' z 1 'spected, boys. i
hope t may die if the blamed fool
hadn't tapped every tree t he come to
beech, ash, oak, hickory, poplar,
walnut, buckeye, sassafras-no matter
what His anger went into everything
permiscus, jes' Y it come, an you kin
paint me yaller if he struck more'n
about one sugar tree outn five"
Sir Patrick had a horror of snakes,
and went about in fear and trembling,
in daily expectation of being devoured
by them. He had bought fine
double-barreled shotgun with which to
defend himself from the reptiles, and
he never went about the farm unarmed.
He would go around on tip-toe. look.
ing into the tree tops for snakes, with
his piece at q full-cock, ready to shoot
at the first glimpse of the enemy. II
was some time before he had chance
to see a snake, and when he did he felt
that everybody in the old country had
been badly imposed upon by some one.
Along in planting time one OF
his sons told him that Watson's boy
had killed snake that day, and they
wanted him to come over and see it.
Over he went in hurry, with his gun
on his shoulder and they took him out
to the field where snake about three
feet long was hanging across the fence.
AN is thot shnake?" he inquired
with look of contempt.
"That's jes' what it is, said Watson.
"How do you like his looks, now I
you've seen him?"
AN thot's shnake-hah! Divil O
leg, or fut, or q harren, or the loikes
av thot has he got -hah! An here I've
put tin pound an risin' into gun to
save mesilf from the loikes av thot-
hah Well, may all the saints defnd
us, for sure I've been a fool the six
months, an no more did 1 know it
hahl Why, sor, do you know, Mr..
Watson, L always supposed that g
shnake was very large haste av @
vairmint, the bigness av harse or q
COO, an thot he could spit fore an
boite wild his tail-hah! An thot's O
shnake-hahl Well. may the blissed
Vairgin save us, but did come tc
America to be skairt by the loikes ay
thot-hah !"-Chicdgo Ledger.