The semi-weekly messenger. [volume] (Wilmington, N.C.) 1897-1908, 1907-06-04

Fear platform and sad p the ca.-
s-lror:
.on taken ae q tlat ball
hc1 - cE.aa n t1ere:7
:" cr'1-!y. what's &c -
ter y:.h HIM"
"Ctay u = lie ja2.2s %
to re al q ead h..-.s r.
ribs III. - ID 70 coI.aag =.
e. ibio r =,
Mr.. Eo~-:1 C.. ZIP or aa~5cd
When he 'rft &, -. De .ccE = t.
Highway and n..i'. fa1--e. - l.
car1e 70 a :.lm IL '-1I the looks G
ard trfa1I l.. II. finer was grind
ing a2 - z 4 C-fer c c,le.-7
tree. and bis two a.;spltlS sons were
tearing down al Oil all fence ard
laying Up q new cna in its place. 3tr.
Bov-ser fc,t Z f&9T-terish instinct rise
within hin o. lie fQ~;sad around. the
robins and U~iGcIi~ls were singing.
the Young lambs we've gamboling. and
nature was getting 4 summer hump on
her. He imagined Mrs. Bowser churn-
ing at the back door while he swung a
scythe in the meadow. the corn grow
ing and ruStling, the yellow wheat
waving in the summer winds, and his
expression was growing childlike and
bland when the farmer left the grind
stone to ask:
well, do you wish to bay chickens
OR lambs:"
Liked Looks OF Farm.
81 am no chicken buyer" was the re-
ply in tart tones. Il rather liked the
looks of your farm and SO turned in.
Perhaps it's for sale"
The farmer and his sons took a good
long look at the man before then, and
then the farmer replied:
Yes, l might sell if / was offered my
price. Won't you sit down OH the
bench?"
JIr. Bowser had never set out to Duy
q farm before, but a sort of natura!
instinct told him that there were Ger
tain questions he ought to ask. Itc
therefore sat down and lighted a cig.sT
and assumed a knowing air ana
queried:
WHAT'S the submarine soil of this
farm? | seq that the surface is q;
sandy I0am.'
"Do you me.n subsoil?" asked the
father, while the sons winked anG
gr:nact.
'Of course"
It's blue clay, the best subsoil in
the World.'
Whats your principal hay crop
clover or Ifolstein?"
"Tou must meal timothE"
Yes, timothy"
WHY, we grow both, of course"
"And how many hundred bushels of
wheat to. the acrp?" Continued Mr..
Bowser as he scowled at the grinning
sons.
How many hundreds? Lord, man,
but you can't mean hundreds Land
that will grow thirty BUSHES OF wheat
to the acre is worth waikiki fifty miles
to see. My land grows a!,,ut twenty,
and it's called mighty gool land"
"Well, about cornE" was asked as
Mr.. Bowser's face began to get very
red.
"T've gone as high Is forty bushels
to the gcre."
did 1t grow already she1led?" n
Both sons laughed right out, while
the father looked at Mr.. Rowser and
scratched the back OF his head and
what OF man had
dropped down an him He finally an
swered:
"The farm that grows shelled corn
and wheat that don't have to be
thrashed is five miles farther along the
But you make maple sugar all th e
year round. don't you?' continued MI.
Bowser in his desperation.
Refused to Sell to Him.
The father snorted, and the so rs
went "Haw, haw, haw!" Il slapp ed
their legs. Mr. Bowser jumped Iup,
with fiery face, and was beginning to
say something about insults when. the
farmer motianed him to silence and
said:
stranger, you don't look like the
man who once sold me a gold brick:
nor like the Teller that stole my hogs
1 guess yoa are, u respectable man who
is a leetle OF IN the head from shovel
ing snow last winter. This farm IS
not for sa1e>to YOU. I have never made
a practice Of taxing advantage of child
rood or insanity. If you have got a
wife and will give 1ne your name. III
go in and telephone her where you are
and ask her to send out for you"
There vas Just Il dreadful mon-Pnt
when MI. Bowscr thought he woul1
y. F~r,.- -, 1rof S-FI ~ h;,---ops
and turned away and walked down 70
the gate ard out Of Il and down tie
road toward the car. lie knew by was
q wrecked man and that he should
never smile again. but with Spartan
herois!n he would not let the enemy
see the iron in his soul. Ther called
after him, and the haw, haW> hawed,
but he walked and walTod a11l never
turned his head. Eraln!a @o9"s and
To~.,~r. +.,~ri-NS