However, we compromised matters by deciding that North Carolina might
do.
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Mountain air and Mountain Dew have been known to work wonders in
combination.
Now, perhaps you remember that Bill Nye had a home down in the Tar Heel
State, and I was glad to know I would soon be breathing the same pine
woods' air.
While the wagon was taking me to the retired home of the settler with
whom I meant to camp out, it stopped before a tumble-down cabin, where
there was a well of the finest water on earth.
A small boy handed up the gourd, while a girl with a shock of carroty
hair stood afar off and watched.
"What's your sister's name?" I asked.
"Her name?"
"Yes--she's your sister, I suppose?"
"Yep."
"Well what do you call her?"
[Illustration]
"Lize--we uns call her Uneasy Lize."
"That's strange. How did she come by it?"
"To school. Teacher told we uns to each git a motter an' larn it, and
come to school an' say it; sister she learned 'Uneasy lies the head
that wears a crown,' but she got so scart when she come to say it she
never got no further'n 'Uneasy lies----' an' that's the name she's gone
by ever since. Thankee, mister. Have another drink?"
Say, did I tell you I met Judkins on the Elevated the other morning.
Judkins is the greatest bore in the country. Take that from me. Well,
sirs, he started in to tell me his family history.
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"You know my wife's sister Gwendolyn!" he asked.
"From Boston--yes," I murmured, prepared to grin and bear it.
"Well, she don't understand why my youngest lad condescends to
associate with some boys toward whom she has taken a cordial dislike on
sight.
"Now, only this morning I heard her reproaching him.
"'How can you associate with that Bink's boy? I understand he's the
worst scholar in the school.'
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"'Huh!' said my little chap, quick as a shot, 'don't you think I've got
any gratitude, aunty--why, if it wasn't for him, Harold Bangs or me'd
be at the foot of the class.'"
While we stood there awaiting a belated express, a lady came up the
stairs, who immediately attracted attention from every gentleman
present.
She was certainly a stunner and no mistake.
When she sailed past with the carriage of a duchess we both discovered
that art had supplanted nature in giving her cheeks such a delightful
glow.
This gave me an opening.
Judkins had just been asserting that women are as honest as men.
"Not in all things, my boy. A man will always put up a sign 'Look out
for paint,' but did you ever know a woman to do it? Not on your sweet
life."
[Illustration]
I never realized before how forgetful sailors are as a class, until the
fact was brought to my attention last summer down at the Long Island
resort we patronized.
Why, they had to weigh their anchor every time they left port--you'd
think they could remember the weight easy enough.
And speaking about sailors reminds me of a queer old character I once
knew down at the docks.
For more than thirty years he had labored faithfully at the same job,
and stepped up to be paid every Saturday night.
But at last there came a ruler "who knew not Joseph," and the order
went out that the old man be discharged to make room for some younger
favorite.
His son brought the sad news to him.
It seemed to stupefy the old fellow.
He went home that evening in a daze.
Of course the old woman quickly saw that something was wrong, and began
to ask questions.
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"No, and I'm not sick at all. They're after dischargin' me down at the
docks. I've recaved me notice for next month. I knowed it would come.
Sure I towld ye the furrst day I wint to worruk there I didn't think
'tw'ud be a steady job, and be jabers, I wor roight."
Some accident prevented me from attending a musicale given by a
would-be friend the other evening.
When I met him later he expressed himself after the usual style, about
having missed me, but I had loaded up my old blunderbuss, and gave him
a corker.
"And we were sorry not to be with you, Jones, but to tell you the
truth, our cook had company unexpectedly, and she needed us to fill out
the card tables."
Jones never speaks to me now.
I really imagine the fellow believed what I told him, which speaks well
for my veracity.
Not that it matters much anyhow, for I understand they will soon move
out of our neighborhood.
My wife says the signs are infallible, since they have begun to scratch
matches on the walls.
By some accident I dropped into a strange barber shop to be shaved.
And it was the most--well, atrocious skin I ever ran up against.
The tears stood in my eyes, but that barbarian kept scratching away
just as though he had taken a vow not to leave an inch of cuticle on my
chin.
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When the agony became unbearable, I said, humbly:
"I beg pardon, but I believe there's a hack in your razor."
"Well," said he, coldly, "what did you expect to find in it--an
automobile?"
We were doing Florida with a Pennsylvania excursion.
There was a very modest young lady from Boston with our party and a
ranch owner from Oklahoma.