It will be inferred that we did not see a woodcock.
Such is the case.
But we made the blackbirds sick.
A BALD-HEADED MAN MOST CRAZY.
Last Wednesday the bell to our telephone rung violently at 8 o'clock in
the morning, and when we put our ear to the earaphone, and our mouth to
the mouthaphone, and asked what was the matter, a still small voice,
evidently that of a lady, said, "Julia has got worms, doctor."
We were somewhat taken back, but supposing Julia was going fishing, we
were just going to tell her not to forget to spit on her bait, when a male
voice said, "O, go to the devil, will you?" We couldn't tell whose voice
it was, but it sounded like the clerk at the Plankinton House, and we sat
down.
There is no man who will go further to accommodate a friend than we will,
but by the great ethereal there are some things we will not do to please
anybody. As we sat and meditated, the bell rang once more, and then we
knew the wires had got tangled, and that we were going to have trouble all
day. It was a busy day, too, and to have a bell ringing beside one's ear
all day is no fun.
The telephone is a blessed thing when it is healthy, but when its liver is
out of order it is the worst nuisance on record. When it is out of order
that way you can hear lots of conversation that you are not entitled to.
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