Vilas County news. [volume] (Eagle River, Vilas County, Wis.) 1896-1927, 1911-05-10

keep Ireland from getting home rulel
OIL oh! it's villatnous roorback!"
Don't you call me no roorback Oh
I'll beat your head off, you old por
poise!" yelled Lizzie, as she raised the
parasol and sailed after our excited
candidate, but Aunt Martha's per
suasions prevailed and Lizzie was led
back to the kitchen.
Its Bunch" l whispered to Clara
]. "He sent that boy here to inflame
the mind of our cook, and If that's his
idea of political warfare we'll starve
before the campaign gets started"
"BunchI" exclaimed Clara j. in
dignantly; 'if he has really stopped to
such tactics as that I'll never speak to
him as long as l live"
Easy, Peaches!" l admonish ed !;
the campaign is young yet, and
Bunch may redeem himself. Besides,
I'm going to hand him something
pretty soon that will make him sit up
and notice things. Therell be a few
warm moments in Bill Gray's section
of Ruraldene before this fight is over
believe me-"
In the meantime Uncle Peter had
cooled off and was now politely re-
ceiving the local committee which had
been appointed to wait on him and re.
ceive the first official announcement
that he would run on their ticket for
mayor
Uncle Peter escorted the seven gen.
tlemen up to the veranda and intro
duced them.
Gabe Malone was the chairman of
the committee, and l thought his face
turned olive green with disappoint.
ment when l was presented as the
candidates campaign manager.
My delighted uncle beamed gra.
ciously upon the committee, which
was a unit IN watching for signs of a
wet spell wherein to drink the candt
dates health.
81 have worked over my speech Of
acceptance for several days." the old
gentleman informed the committee,
as he hustled about to prepare for the
great event, "and 1 f1atter myself that
it will create considerable consterna.
ton in the enemy's camp when it is
publicly printed"
In order to make his committee feel
more at home, for the day was hot
and they were somewhat neglige,
Uncle Peter had thrown his coat on
the lawn and was playing the host in
his shirt sleeves.
Presently all was in readiness. Re.
freshments had been served to such
an extent that the committee was
prepared to yell its several lungs out,
and we all awaited Uncle Peters first
oratorical effort with bursting enthu
siasm.
The candidate picked up his coat
from the grass and made most pains
taking bow in the direction of the
wide, wide world.
Then he put on his glasses and dove
into the inside pocket of his coat for
the speech which was to be the eff
fort of his life.
A shadow of establishment crossed
his features as his hand went deeper
into the pocket All the other pockets
he tried in nervous haste, and then,
with a groan of despair, he yelled:
''My heavens! my speech has been
stolen"
A shrill scream of triumph from the
direction of the roadway caused US all
to turn and we caught glimpse Of a
red-headed, barefooted kid standing
on the gate with roll of foolscap in
one hand and the other thumb at
tached TO the end of his nose.
ITS a bum speech anyway" yelled
the grinning urchin, and with another
shrek of triumph he put off down the
pike to beat the wind.
Bunch isn't a political fighter" |
muttered bitterly; he's wrecker OF
bones
Copyright BY c. W. Dillingham; Cob