You
take some cedar oil and put on your coat collar, if you are a man, and if
you are a woman put it on that gingerbread work around your neck, and a
mosquito will come up and sing to you and get all ready to take toll, when
she will smell that oil. She is the sickest mosquito you ever saw. She
turns over on her back and sends her husband for the nearest doctor. We
had a bottle of cedar oil, and if Jennings hadn't left it hanging up in
Hogan's store in his coat, we should have made those mosquitoes sick. As
it was they did it to us. There isn't a spot on us as big as a billiard
table but what you can find artesian wells made by mosquitoes.
Woodcock sell higher in the market than any other bird. Lots of people
that never saw them eat snakes, eat them. When they get up to fly they
talk Bohemian, and get behind a bush. You shoot right into the bush, and
if you kill one you think you are a good shot. Talk about getting tired.
You walk around in the woods several miles, with mosquitoes getting
acquainted with you, and all the time your nerves strung up in
anticipation of seeing a dollar bill fly up, and if you don't sleep
without rocking, we are no prophet. The sport, however, is exhilerating,
and we are glad we went. We are glad because it learned us one thing, and
that is, if we ever want a woodcock real bad, it will be cheaper, easier,
and better to buy it.
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