Cottonwood report. [volume] (Cottonwood, Idaho) 1893-1901, 1893-09-29

! - nfaE1ucBtNely mOQeFn view OF u Tnouo0
Illustrated by Shakespeare.
"Mrs. Jones has baby"
"The deuce you sayp
Fact"
"Girl or boyf"
boy"
Lets hunt up old Jonesey and make
him set 'em up'
So is ushered into the world Baby Jones,
very red and hungry. and very much
troubled with insomnia. The former
grows on him, and, on wearing off the lat
ter, Papa Jones loses his hair and several
pounds of flesh and Mamma Jones loses
some of her good looks.
"Pay2" says Papa Jones in astonish-
ment. do babies pays Well, should
say they did"
"PayS" says Mamma Jones; "why, the
whole world could not buy him"
And so Baby Jones becomes Willie Jones,
and with his little primer and immaculate
tie marches proudly to school. Thereupon
the boys s'christen" his new shoes by spit
ting on them, and they soil his white tie
rolling him over in the sand. And Willie
Jones cries and teacher comforts him by
telling him to sit on the platform and by
calling his tormentors "bad boys" And
they grin and look ashamed.
But Father Time keeps his scythe
a-swing, and lol Billy Jones is in the high
school. Billy the Kid he is called now.
and he nearly breaks his mothers heart
one day because she sees him smoking a
cigarette and evidently enjoying it. Billy
Jones Is also inclined to partake of the
fruit of his neighbours pear tree, said fruit
being obtained after dark.
Will Jones is different boy few years
after his graduation from the high school.
Life has become a question of neckties and
fits on clothes. He ushers strangers into
seats at the hurch of the Dan and Beer
sheba Pilgrims. He leads the German,
and one day Deacon Potts is panied to see
him coming out of bucket shop, where
he has taken flyer on wheat
William Jones, aged forty, is the cashier
of the Hightop National bank. Mr.. Jones
is known as one of our best and brainest
business men. Mrs. Jones speaks of him
as Mr.. Jones, or William, and Deacon
Potts takes his advice on the investment
of a few hundred dollars he has laid by
They.talk of running him for the legisla
ture, and The Evening Squash has doomed
him for mayor. The little ones call him
papa, and run to meet him at night wher
he comes home.
''You know old Bill Jonesf He was tell
ing me the other day how he used to play
ball where the postoffice now stands. He.
jolly old fellow, 1 tell you. Told abon
helping to pitch teacher out of the win
dow when he was boy, about forty o.
fifty years ago."
Bill is jolly old boy Kept the com
pany in a roar at his daughters wedding
with his stories. They say Bill has laid b,
quite little pile in his day. Smooth ole
boy is Bill. He has accumulated quite
stock of experience, at any rate, and is al
ways ready with word of counsel, if vol
ask his advice.
Seventy-five years old today is "Old Bill
Jones'" or "Old Billy JONES'" as hi
younger friends love to call him. There il
no term Of reproach in familiarity unless i
is used by the thoughtless or inconsiderate
His old friends have dropped by the way
side one by one, and old Bill Jones is thu
last leaf on the tree. 1t is we'll ripened b,
time and frost, and the first breath OF win
ter will detach him gently, and he will fal
to his parent earth in sweet peace. "Olt
Bill Jonesp' He has done his work well
and he is ready to go. He wonders if h
will meet the old boys again and talk owe
the old days. His mind is much on hi
youth. He loves to recall old associations
The old voices are in his ears. He smile
as he sees the children play.
"Hello, colonel, Whose grave is this yo
are fillingf'
william Jones', sir"
WHAT Old Billy Joness Well, well
So he has gone. But he lived to good oil
age. Let's see, seventy eight years, thre
MONTHS the stone says, don't it? That
doing pretty well in these times. Jone
was good old fellow, though. l remen
Der hearing my father tell how Jones Ii
him have 5000 once to tide him over
crisis and he never took bit Of securit,
He and father were great friends ono
How long agoa Oh, that must have bee
twenty or twenty-five years back. Father
been dead eighteen years. Well, good luc
to him wherever he is. Good day.'-Mil
neapolis journal.