The commercial. (Union City, Tenn.) 190?-193?, 1904-02-19
JOHN BARLEYCORN.


selling a load of chickens, but did
not sell bob Ingersol."
What is wrong with the editors
that they have stuck my name on
the wrong end of my communica-
tions of late. Who ever heard of a
fellow assigning his name and then
writing a letter to it? While we
have no objections to being treated
thus we demand an explanation and
ask why you don't do others so.
Will say to U-Kuow that my crit
icisms are not applicable to Esq.
Carroll nor any other man with
brain and backbone to stand for
for what the people want.
In answer to Cyclone will say
that all men who believe in the
present road system and who have
moss growing on their backs snore.
Their puckering string is de-
stroyed to the extent that they
cannot whistle or pucker their
mouth Their general appearance
is that of an inactive volcano; their
voice as kissing cyclone, with the
music of civil-war sorghum mill
attached; their habits are that of
jack frost, and their presence inn
passable.
We were glad to read your letter,
Cyclone, and like you, it is pleas
ure to me to see or hear the name
of such a friend as Alex Forester.
And do you know Ed Stone? Now,
Alex is Eds wife's childrens grand
father and father to Eds wife's
children's mother and father-ln-law
to Eds wife's childrens father and
are otherwise closely related. Well,
once upon time we went to see
Alex and family, and at milking
time went out with him to see his
fine, fat, glossy cows. Alex SAID,
''sook wench, sock wench," and
called Mark, who was his little boy,
and said, ''run down and drive that
COW up" and away went Mark and
stood looking like lie did not know
which one to drive and Alex said,
"Sook wench, sock wench; drive
her on, Mark" and Mark said,
"Well, which one is Wench, papa?"
Alex said THAT red mulley with
long horns, drive her on, and Mark
drove her up. And we knew Alexis
wife. She was a Miss Lewis. We
have been to her fathers house Of
ten, before she and Alex were ever
married, and we cherish the recol-
lectiou of those happy days. But
the giCls and boys of those days are
dead and scattered to the four
winds.
And there is another dear friend,
whom used to know, that lived at
and around the city and his name
was John EShefield. How he did
love. the luscious watermelon is
sin. Nothing but the red lips,
white teeth and shining eyes of the
African could compete with the APP
petite OF this lover of the watermel-
on. But alas, he is gone, | know
not where. May the Lord bless
him and protect him from the wrath
of the Cyclones.
AS my mind wanders back it
falls upon another true
friend in the person of one Herman
Dietzel, who, when we first knew
him. was working in a blacksmith
shop around the corner, laboring
day by day, and laying aside every
cent he could spare for sthe rainy
day, with the deep blue sea between
him and his parents. But many
we're the prayers that crossed that
sea for his welfare, and aft T
awhile, in answer to those prayers
md good wishes, the Lord said,
Herman, come up little higher.
have seen your labors and heard
he prayers of your parents, and |
lave prospered you. Enter into an
EASIER life" And it was so. And
while friends have risen and fallen
n life, have managed to hold onto
ny same old inheritance poverty.
Have never made nor lost a fortune;
lave never starved nor foundered;
lave never been rich nor sent to the
have never broken into
all nor the Legislature; nor pro-
'hesied nor preached, but have had
ny toes mashed, my shins kicked
nd been otherwise blessed until
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