The enterprise. [volume] (Harlem, Mont.) 1899-1926, 1908-11-04
WAS NOT THANKFUL
Mr.. COOLEY FAILED TO APPRE.
GATE WlFE's EFFORTS.
OF Course She Meant II for the Best,
But Her Liege Lord Thought
the Remedy Worse Than
the Disease.

My neighbor Cooley suffered good
deal last winter from rheumatism in
his breast, and his wife was badly
frightened about it for fear it should
end in consumption. Cooley could not
be induced to try any remedy for the
trouble. and Mrs. Cooley was nearly
worried to death about it. At last she
determined to try strategy. She made
a dry mustard plaster and one night
while he was asleep she sewed it upon
the inside of his undershirt. so that it
would Just cover the rheumatic place.
Cooley dressed himself in the morn
ing, wholly unsuspicious of the pres
ence of the plaster, and went down
stairs, At the breakfast table, while
he was talking to his wife, he sud
denly stopped, looked cross-eyed, and
a spasm of pain passed over his face.
Then he took up the thread of the con-
versation again and went on. He was
in the midst of an explanation of the
political situation. when all at once
he ceased again, grew red in the face
and exclaimed:
Il wonder what in the No, 1t
can't be anything wrong"
Mrs. Cooley asked what was the
matter. and Cooley said
20, it's that Internal old rheuma-
never felt it exactly the same way be-
fore Kinder stings me-
Mrs Cooley said she was sorry.
Then Mr.. Cooley began again, and
was Just showing her how the ravages
of the grasshoppers in the west. and
she potato-bug in the east, would af
feet the election by making the people
discontented, and so likely to strike
at the party in power, when he sud
denly dropped the subject, and, jump
ing up, said:
"Thunder and li1htning what's
that? Ouch. O. Moses. I feels if l
had shovelful of hot Goals inside my
undershilt.'
Must be that rheumatism, getting
worse" said Mrs. Cooley sympathetic
cally.
20. gracious. no, It's something
worse than rheumatism. Feels like
burning into NY skin. Ouch. Ow
wow-wow! It's awful, I can't stand
it another minute. | believe it's chol-
era, or something. and I'm going to
die"
DO try to be calm, Mr.. Cooley"
Calm How can a man be calm
with volcano boiling over under his
shirt. Go way from here. Get out Of
the way, quick. while | go upstairs and
undress. Murder-r-r-r-, but it hurts!
Let me get out. quick"
Then he rushed up to the bedroom
and stripped off his clothes. His chest
was the color of boiled lobster; but
he couldn't for the life of him tell
what was the matter. Then his eye
rested upon something white on his
shirt. He picked up the garment and
examined it. Ten minutes later he
came slowly downstairs with a dry
mustard plaster in his hand while
thunder clothed his brow.
Going up to Mrs. Cooley, he shook
the plaster under her nose, and said
in a suppressed voice:
Did you put that thing in my
clothes?"
Il did it for the best, John" she
said, | thought"
ooh, never mind what. you thought.
You've taken the bark clean off of my
bosom, so I'm as raw as sirloin
steak, and I'll probably never be we'll
again as long as l live. That lets you
out You play no more tricks like that
on me. Now, mind me-"
Then he slammed the door and went
out Mrs. Cooley doesn't know to this
day exactly what effect the grasshop-
pers are going to have on the election.
N. W. Weekly.