The progressive farmer. [volume] (Winston, N.C.) 1886-1904, 1895-06-04
cABR coHoRT WRITES.
Or. PENsToCK }

\ laugh on me. Nc was ES60AAS aA az
count of the unwilling ceremonies in
Raleigh on the goth, when, suddenly
looking up at me, he asked: Father,
has the Governors Mansion been con-
verted into a depot or a street railway
stations"
"Why, my son, such a question is
ridiculous, " / replied.
"Well, any how, this paper says the
car(r)s remained there till the process
sion passed. AS the boy turned his
back on me and continued reading to
himself, I walked slowly out into the
yard philosophizing on the great law
of heredity.
I've had considerable trouble with a
neighbor since | wrote you last week.
In fact, neighbor Browns family pass
me on the street now without deigning
a dof of the hat or a friendly Good
day Their little Johnny partook too
freely of early vegetables the other day
and a shrinkage of the abdominal por-
ton of his anatomy took place which
eliminated in necesitating the family
purchasing a tombstone suitable to
adorn the last resting place of a six
year old. AS I have a slight trace of
sentiment in my nature, I am some
times lured astray by the siren voice
of the muses.. My neighbors have dis
cred this weakness of mine, and it was
very natural that Mrs. Brown should
write me a nice little note requesting
me to kindly compose a beautiful
four-line epitaph to be engraved on the
tombstone of their dear departed
Johnnie" AS I was to ''send same by
bearer, I hastily scrubbed or the back
of the envelope four lines, which 1
handed to the boy in waiting, and told
him to hasten as Mrs. Brown might be
starting to the marble yard and the
poetry would metre (meet herr on the
way.
Here is the epitaph which has made
the Brown family snub me on every
street corner:
Here in the beautiful cemetery
Lie in silent slumber,
AdAO "dIuAuBp bJIduBCEs L Dl4 4Ou,
Never eat the deadly cucumber"
tbs truly sad how our good inten
tions are misunderstood, and sadder
still that the fruit of our brain is so
often ~unpalatable to the literary taste
of our readers-and publishers. Only
last week I made this beautiful little
verselet,
H COMING IRL with BLOOMERs).
No longer on a rainy day
Can Tommy laCd it over his sister Sue,
For when in the house they have to stay
she can slide down the banister too,
and sent it to the wealthiest funny
paper I could find in Brad street, and
Immediately went to S. & D, Burmas
tiers store and picked out a suit of
clothes which I was going to pay for
out of the $25 90 the publishers of the
periodical would surely send me so
soon as my contribution reached them.
Ny longing desire to write poetry re-
ceived a check by the first mail, but
my pocket book still carries a lean
lank expression, and that suit of
clothes is worn by the man who is
stopping in u town putting up light
ming rods. Strangers the workings of the
Fates. Must I hang up the gourd at
the Pierian Springs and quench my
thirst for worldly renown at the town
pump with the lightning rod peddler9
This lightning man drove up to the
gate yesterday while I was in the yard
pruning the magnolia trees and stop
ping, inquired if I didn't want some
lightning arresters put up on my
house.
well no, I replied, looking up with
a priestly expression on my counter
ance, I guess not. I'll had the light
ming arrested I have no place to lock
it up"
I've learned since that this pedlar
drove past forty-fve houses before he
again got up courage to mention light
ing arresters. This chance to even
up with the man who wears my in
tended suit of clothes has consoled my
lacerated feelings considerably.
Speaking of people stopping at your
gate reminds me of q little incident
that occurred last summer when I was
keeping a boarding house. An Irish
man strolled up to my place one even
ing and after yelling "Hello!" a few
times, asked if he could get lodging for
the night. I told him he could and
invited him in. When he got to the
light I noticed that he carried no bag
gage, and as I always charged in ad-
vance for this little omission, Inquired
of Pat Whv he had no grip or t~elescope2