Phillipsburg herald. [volume] (Phillipsburg, Kan.) 1882-1905, 1903-01-01
think he's a better man n McKin.


"Think he's a better man n McKin-
ley?"
both are gentlemen, so far as I
know" Ralph laughed. 81 am acquairt-
ed with neither"
You're little like Of Temp Mutt
I guess"
Explain"
Hes all the time growlin' cause he
amt acquainted with the presidential
candidates. Says he don't see why they
nominate fellers that nobody knows;
that they ort to nominate somebody
like Hugh McDevitt n Doc Barwood.
Says everybody knows them"
Tucker paused suddenly; and leaning
toward Marlowe whispered:
There comes oil Temp up the steps
this very minute. Now you will meet
good one. He shutters like jig saw;
is odder n the figure seven, an fuller
O. queer notions an ideas n scrap
book"
Ralph faced the door. 1t opened and
shut; and grotesque figure slouched
toward the center of the room.
Judging from appearances, Mr.
Thompson Mutt was indeed a character.
He was deep-chested, round-shoulder-
ed man Of 60 years, with long arms and
handy legs. He did not walk, he shut
fled-his body bent we'll forward, his
arms dangling. His ruddy face-bare
from forehead to chin-was encircled
by halo of snow-white hair and beard.
His wide mouth sagged grievously at
the corners; and his kindly blue eyes
were weak and watery But his whole
appearance denoted great physical pow
er and endurance.
AS to his apparel, it consisted Of a
pair of ragged trousers, a chinchilla
: coat-threadbare in many places and
lined with flaming red flannel, an old
, fashioned blue satin waistcoat, and a
black neckerchief. He wore a white
SLOUGH hat; and his feet were encased in
well-worn arctics.
How d'y' do, Temp" Tucker cried
edging out of the way as the newcomer
approached the counter. How are you
today, anyhow"
Bout Bout Bout the s-same, if any
d-d-difference, grinned Mutt, throwing
back the corner of his coat and diving
: deep into his trousers pocket. "H-H-
: How're y-you?"
Fair to middlin'," Jep replied, wink
ing at Ralph.
. The elderly man fished up the coin he
was angling for, and slapping 1t upor
; the counter demanded:
: "GGot any f-f-fetty?"
| Pardon me-" returned Ralph. "Bu
7 what is it you want?"
"F-Fetty. G-Got any?"
"Fetty, you say"
= 'Y-Yes-d-darn it! F-F-Fetty."
81 fear I don't yet understand wha
you mean"
Jep came to the rescue with
whats the matter with you, any
how, Ralph Marlowe? Temp Nut
wants some fetty. This was fuckers
! unique'way Of introducing the two men
e you know what the is, il you'll les
A think minute. It's that bad-smellin
a truck that folks puts in bags, an hang
= 'em round Their children's necks Il
3 keep off diseases an witches an things
D An | hain't no doubt It'll keep off any
{ thing dead r alive; fer 1t smells wors
n dirty shotgun"
"Oh, l understand" Marlowe ex
: claimed, smiling blandly. "Mr. Nut
wants some asafetida."
4 That's what you drug fellers calls II
:, I guess" Jep answered, nodding; "bu
down in this patch O. clearin' we call /
n -fetty"
g ut d-don't m-m-make no differ'nc
what you c-call It," suffered Toni
"jest $50 you've g-got It,"
" How much will you have, Mr.. Mutt?
:. Marlowe asked pleasantly.
"F-Five cents w-w-worth."
e When Ralph had wrapped up the re
quired quantity Of the odoriferous drul
- he showed it toward the purchase
|. quoting as he did so:
Asafetda. the resinous gum
Named from its odor-well, Il doe
q smell some.'"
essay that ag'in," suffered the oil
o man. his ewes nving open like those Of
mechanical doll
: Ralph laughingly repeated the cour
let
n "S-SSay!" Temp exclaimed wit
e candid admiration. "Y-You're a DR.
q poet"
8 THAT is not original with me-" IN
}. young druggist explained; at is que
d tation. DR.. Holmes Is the author"
II doc who?" Tucker interjected wit
rising infection.
doctor oliver Wendell Holmes"
. Don't know him, guess" Jep oil
served rehectively Never practice
;, in these parts. did he?"
With an effort Marlowe managed [
, smother his visibility; and went on {
Z give a brief biographical sketch Of III
great anatomist and litterateur, Tucke
listened attentively; Mutt, absent
mindedly. Evidently the old man
thoughts were elsewhere; for as Ralp
. concluded he fastened to say:
" DIDO y-y-you know I'm p-purt
g-g-good at m-makin' rhymes?"
Ito be continued)
A Dog Dug It's Own Grave and Dice
IS Providence Journal: A dog, whic