Mohave County miner and our mineral wealth., 1921-06-17

Honeybug Is q good story-teller, and he was telling us bully yarn, and for a brief season we forgot tho burdens laid upon us, which are greater than we can bear. If you could tefl story as well as Honeybug does, I'd i'll these ancestral halls with silvery laughter, but you never try to say anything amusing, Mrs. Jamesworthy. You do tell stories, but they are of gloomy and tragic character.
 Hast night, when came home, you told dramatic story to the effect that you had callers all afternoon, and hadn't chance to cook anything for me, and so I had to eat canned salmon and soda crackers, and wash them down with water, and I insist that when husband comes home from his arduous labors in the changing mart, so empty that his watch chain makes a clanking sound when 1t flaps against his, spine, he should have warm vic tuals, something he can consume with pleasure and pride. The fact that you had an invasion of callers is a cheap excuse.
 "My sainted mother never would have permitted any callers to interfere with her management of the cook stove. She realized that her old man kept the shebang going, and that he should have the right of way. If any old hens happened to be in the house when grub time approached, my moth- CT would request them. firmly but re- spectfully, to chase themselves, and if they didn't like it they could lump it. When my father came home from his work. the hay was. always in the manager for him, and he never had to wait fve minutes for a meal.
 'The day before yesterday. when I came staggering home, faint and weary from my herculean efforts to make both ends meet, you told me an- other story. It was to the effect that you had been downtown sizing up c shipment of new spring hats, just re- ceived at the millinery foundry, and you were so interested you forgot the lapse of time, and didn't get home in time to cook anything. But you flashed a winning smile at me, and said 1t wouldn't take you ten minutes to warm up can of beans. and there was some cold coffee left from breakfast, and you had plenty of smoked herrings on hand.
 Doubtless I should have burst forth Into boisterous laughter over this en- tertaining anecdote. but somehow 1t didn't appeal to my sense of humor. I was so busy that day hadn't time to eat anything at noon, and all the way home I was hoping you would have a porterhouse steak about three Inches thick, and raft of boiled po- tatoes, and perhaps a slab of mince pie as an epilogue.
 "The day before that, when I came home as hollow as a bass drum, and fairly gnashing my teeth with hum ger, you related a humorous story to the effect that your club didn't adjourn on time that afternoon, and you didn't get home until late, so would have to get along with a picked-up supper. If I would be patient a few minutes, you said, to make the story seem more spicy, you would boil an egg for me, and there was cold corn bread in the cupboard.
 "Such stories, Mrs. Jamesworthy, may seem highly amusing to an inno- cent bystander. and have no doubt they would make great hit if written up and printed in London Punch, but there is something wrong with my sense of humor, or I am at the wrong end of the stories. Anyhow, I can't gurgle over them as do over Honey. bugs yarns"