The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1916-03-25

There IS none, ma am. lnOuSnl
of blasting one through the rocks. but
gave it up. There is a nice pond,
though, only half a mile away"
With frogs in it ?"
There may be a few frogs"
Look here, but I won't stand for
thisi' almost whooped Mr.. Bowser-
Mr. Banks here has beautiful little
farm which he will sell cheap because
he is no farmer. He tells me all
about it at the office, and 1 bring him
home to have him tell you, and you
go at it and quiz him until he is fairly
bewildered and don't know what to
say. Now, let's have done with iti
Mrs. Bowser waved him down with
out a word in reply, and. turning to
Mr.. Banks, she asked:
why don't you sell that farm for
a stone quarry?''
piled, after some hesitation, ''but it is
too far from a market"
81 had forgotten one thing. Mr..
Banks. Is the farm flat or hilfy ?''
Il should say it was hilly. That
is, saw a good many hills around
81 thought so, and am much obliged
for your truthfulness. How far is it
from any market town?'
mot above nine miles, ma am."
Mr.. Bowser got up and walked four
times around the room, and he grit
ted his teeth at every three PAGES,
well as his mind Mrs. Banks kept
his chair, but crossed his legs and
| trotted his foot as if he had load on
his toes, Mrs. Bowser said:
Mr.. Banks, my husband talks of
farming. He has never held a pillow.
He has never dragged a field. He
has never sowed nor planted nor
reaped. He has never MIXED a COW
nor harnessed a horse. He has never
moved with scythe or dug with hoe.
1t would take him a month to build a
fence ha nrt
of farmer do you think he would
make?''
by John! BY joint" gasped Mr..
| Bowser, as he held up his hands in
woman so insulting to guest in her
own housed"
well, farming is hard work." said
| Mr.. Banks as he stroked his chin
whiskers. 81 can't hardly say that
Mr.. Bowser would make a bowling
success even on a good farm
ION an abandoned farm which had
been abandoned three or four times,
could he raise enough pancakes for
his breakfasts
81 doubt it, ma'am-I doubt it. Still
he may be a wonderful man. / did
not go to him to try to sell this farm
1 just happened to ask him if he knew
| of anyone who owned a bulldog and
would trade the animal even with me
1 shall let the farm be sold for taxes
unless 1 can get up some sort of q
trade I will trade for a bulldog, ar
knocked off. Now that I have ex-
planned the situation, you will please
excuse me and I will co.
Mr.. Bowser stood and looked at hin
with purpling face and CLASSY eyes
and it was Mrs. Bowser who had tc
open the door for him and bid hin
goodnight When she returned to the
sitting room there was an awful
silence for long minute, and the cal
arched her back and said to herself:
Il am glad that I have lived to see
this night. There is the darndest ole
row coming that a cat ever saw, anG
I'll bet ten to one that Mrs Bowsej
comes out ahead
But the cat was wrong
''Well?" was queried of Mr. Boswel
at last.
He could not reply for three or foul
minutes. 1t was the nearest he haf
ever come to having a stroke of apo
plexy. He stood for a time ant
| gurgled in his throat and glared al
her, and then he found voice enough
to say:
you have baff1ed me again, but i
is for the last time! I will follow tina
old liar of a Banks untilrI overtakt
him and then I vii make jelly O.
himr'
lie StrOlIed down the hall like
leading actor crossing the stage, anC
donned hat and overcoat and passed
out into the night, but he did not fol
low on the trail of the abandoned man
who had abandoned a farm COMPOSED
of rocks and hills. He contented him
self by slowly walking the other way
And the wind it blew, and the snow
it showed, and now and then came {
long-drawn moan from the northeas
that told of disappointment, chagrin
grief and a future full of trouble.
And on that abandoned farm. will
the dreary night bowling around i
great boulders started from their rest
ing places on the SUBMITS of the hills
and rolled down and down and dow
until they brought up with a sullel
smash, and Bowser did not become ;
farmer-1Copyright 1915, McClur,
Newspaper Syndicate.)