A First Ward man was told by his wife to bring home a quart of oysters
on New Year's night, to fry for supper. He drank a few prescriptions of
egg nog, and then took a paper bag full of selects and started for home.
He stopped at two or three saloons, and the bag began to melt, and when
he left the last saloon the bottom fell out of the bag and the oysters
were on the sidewalk.
We will leave the man there, gazing upon the wreck, and take the reader
to the residence where he is expected.
A red-faced woman is putting the finishing touches to the supper table,
and wondering why her husband does not come with the oysters. Presently
a noise as of a lead pencil in the key-hole salutes her ear, and she
goes to the door and opens it, and finds him taking the pencil out of
the key-hole. Not seeing any oysters, she asks him if he has forgotten
the oysters.
“Forgot noth(hic)ing,” says he.
He walks up to the table and asks for a plate, which is given him by the
unsuspicious wife.
“Damsaccident you ever(hic)see,” said the truly good man, as he brought
his hand out of his overcoat pocket, with four oysters, a little smoking
tobacco, and a piece of cigar-stub.
“Slipperysoystersev (hic)er was,” said he, as he run his hands down in
the other pocket, bringing up five oysters, a piece of envelope, and a
piece of wire that was used as a bail to the pail.
“Got all my pock(hic)ets full,” said he, as he took a large oyster out
of his vest pocket. Then he began to go down in his pants pocket, and
finding a hole in it, he said:
“Six big oys(hic)ters gone down my trousers leg. S'posi'll find them in
my boot,” and he sat down to pull off his boot, when the lady took the
plate of oysters and other stuff into the kitchen and threw them in the
swill, and then she put him to bed, and all the time he was trying
to tell her how the bag busted just as he was in front of All Saints
Ca(hic)thedral.
*****
Three distinct charges of heresy will be made against Rev. Dr. Thomas,
of Chicago, at the trial next month. The amount of heresy that is going
on in this country, and particularly among ministers, is truly alarming.
The names of his partners in guilt are not mentioned, probably out
of respect for their families. A minister that goes around practicing
heresy ought to be watched, and when caught at it he should be bounced.
There is no excuse for _heresy_, though a minister will occasionally
meet a mighty attractive _her_, but he should say: “Git thee foreninst
me, Susan, and when I have a convenient season I will send the police
after thee.”
*****
There should be an amendment to the constitution of the United States
making it lawful for an ex-President to walk on grass. We have no great
admiration for Hayes, but when we read that at Cleveland he was ordered
off the grass by a thirteen dollar a month soldier, and had to shin
it-over a fence real spry to save the shoulder of his pants from assault
by a cheap bayonet, it makes us feel ashamed, and we blush for America.
The spectacle of a man who has occupied the White House, and been the
chief attraction of county fairs, being compelled to put his stomach on
a fence, and flop over, heels over appetite, like a boy playing tag, to
keep from being jabbed in a vital part, makes us sick.