After breakfast we sat around for an hour, and Pa said it was a long
time getting daylight, and bimeby Pa looked at his watch. When he began to
pull out his watch I lit out and hid in the storeroom, and pretty soon I
heard Pa and Ma come up stairs and go to bed, and then the hired girls,
they went to bed, and when it was all still, and the pain had stopped
inside of my clothes, I went to bed, and I looked to see what time it was
and it was two o'clock in the morning. We got dinner at eight o'clock in
the morning, and Pa said he guessed he would call up the house after this,
so I have lost another job, and it was all on account of that bottle of
pickled oysters you gave me. My chum says he had colic too, but he didn't
call up his folks. It was all he could do to get up himself. Why don't you
give away something that is not spiled?"
The groceryman said he guessed he knew what to give away, and the boy went
out and hung up a sign in front of the grocery, that he had made on
wrapping paper with red chalk, which read, "Rotten eggs, good enough for
custard pies, for 18 cents a dozen."
A GOOD LAND ENOUGH.
This land of the free is good enough, if we make it good, and if we make
it bad, it is just as bad as any country under the sun. It all depends on
how the people act.
THE WOODCOCK.
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