The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1933-11-23

This change in the weather Sunday
night was too much for me. 1 kept
the same amount of covers on the bed
that haG been on the night before and
while the night was yet young l be-
gan to roll and toss. They say that
one dreams all his dreams in the frac-
ton of a second, but that was before
Sunday night.
l maintain that l dreamed the en-
tire night. And it seemed so real,
too. began by gathering hickory nuts
in Mr.. Offutt's woods, and he caught
me in the act. He wanted the other
nuts of the community to have a
chance and he called up Bun Nethkin
to run me in. But my subconscious
mind did me one good turn, for before
we got to the hoosegow the subject
changed and l was hunting tigers in
India with Ross Stup. He had hot
air gun with which he planned to kill
a real man-eater, but before he got
to do that he changed into the form
of Paul Ulman and the gun turned
to be a real rapid fire make.
My subconscious mind had horror
of tigers evidently, because the next
thing l knew was out with Tommy
eraser and Walter Dawson calling
wild turkeys. really never heard
such Dragging about what would hap
pen should they see a turkey.
Well, we really did see one, but he
was as big as a house, and he started
chasing Walter and Tommy and just
as he was about to make two juicy
morsels of them they ran down rab-
bit hole. The turkey then turned about
to chase me, but before it had gone
far it wasn't turkey at all, but Gen.
Samuey Johnson, NRA car, who was
going to give me good tanning for
not liking his program. He got too
close for comfort and he seemed to
be growing by leaps and bounds, but
by this time it wasn't johnson any
more, but Grover Stemple and he
wanted my scalp because printed the
story of the municipal building before
the members of Council wanted it
given publicity. Grover never grew
much until he was eighteen and then
he sprung up like weed and here
he was getting bigger all the time. l
tried to get away by climbing noun
tain but his long legs seemed to fol-
low me everywhere. But it turned out
to be Luke Harvey for no reason at
all.
Returning from the mountain top,
l caught sight of a skunk and beside
it was Joe Gender who was crying be-
cause his Legion post had been low
for the week and they had to take
care of the animal. But the skunk
wasn't hard on the nostrils at all.
About that time the covers must
all have been around my head, for l
was in the midst of a forest fire and
we ran for our lives. Two men were
coming to fight the fires, both with
heavy boards. One said his conserva-
ton armies had deserted him, and
when l asked him who he was he said
81 am President Roosevelt" The
other man with him was Litvinoff.
But by this time a siren was blow
ing (the one that didn't sound off for
that fire Sunday night, l guess), and
all the firemen were arguing the best
way to put out the flames. By this
time l was cooked and was reading
my own obituary in The Republican.
Blaming such a rotten write-up on
Archibaldson, decided l wouldn't go
to Baltimore any more and further
more 1 would write my own notice of
passing to the great beyond.
About that time Mike Maryone
came along with his dump cart and
shovel and said he was waiting to bury
me. But just about that time I saw
the boss editor with big jag on and
it was only then, folks, that knew l
must be dreaming.
George Weitzell is the next gentle
man on the honor roll for coming in to
pay up his subscription simply because
he saw the plea in this column about
our pants. And he came just after the
boss editor had pushed his knee thru
one of the legs of his trousers.
Three cheers for my alma mater.
They won their first football game of
the year last Saturday. And a good
thing, too, because they were playing
Wesleyan, and if Wesleyan had won
two of my former scouts, Walter Daw-
son, Jr., and Lewis Jones, students at
Wesleyan, would have never let me
rest in peace.