VOLUME ONE
AIN'T IT SO 2
Old sordid sin is a hoes on wheels,
A-kickin an buckin' to beat the
band;
If ever you get in the way of his heels
There ain't no tellin just where
you'll land.
The devil can pose as a perfect saint,
And a lot of the fools believe his
lies;
An' the science of passin' for what
you ain't,
Is the crucial test of the worldly
wise. WELL, I'LL BE DARNED!
Darn the American flatr!" In
the patriotic days of old the
above expression would have
been considered treason of the
blackest hue. Edward Everett
Hale tells us about a fellow who
got himself into a bushel of trou
ble by putting it just a shade
stronger than that.
But in order to clear myself
from any charge of treason, I
hasten to explain that "Darn the
American nag" is the latest order
of the administration. The new
order is said to be in line with
the government's policy of re
trenchment. It means that the
starry banners which float above
all the government buildings
must be treated like an old sock
they must be darned when they
get holes in 'em.
Heretofore, when a flag was
worn to frazzles by flapping in
the breeze, it was thrown away
and a newj one put up; but now
Uncle Sam is going to economize.
He is going to get out his old
rusty darning needle and darn
Old Glory till it is all darns, and
then darn the darned places.
Now ain't that a "darned'1
poor way to economize? If the
old star-studded fool would put
his brogan down good and heavy
on some of those billion-dollar
army and navy appropriations,
it might help some. But the idea
of your Uncle Sam taking a piece
of his shirt-tail and patching the
old worn-out flags,and at the
same time building more costly
battleships it looks to me like
saving the hair and throwing
away the hoar.
1
MORAVIAN FALLS, NORTH CAROLINA, NOVEMBER, 1910.
A PRETTY GOOD IDEA.
Well, bless my life! They arje
about to get it fixed at last. J ust
put on your spex and read the
following dispatch which wa's
sent out from Nuremburg, Ger
many, on October 3:
' German naval experts are ex
perimenting with a 'crewless war
ship' that can be started, stopped,
and steered, and the guns of
which can be fired by wireless
from shore. The model, the size
of an average motor boa;, has
been operated with unfailing ac
curacy within a radius of 18
miles. All the apparatus on board
is controlled by the shore opera
tor." Now wouldn't that make youi
grandaddy grunt? Going to
dress up a big fleet of death-ma
chines in their best bibs and
tuckers and send them off to sea
all alone, just like a woman bund
ling her kids off to school. Not
a soul on board to see how they
behave, but they are going to be
entirely under the control of a
wireless operator on the shore,
and he can start and stop their
engines, load and fire their guns,
make them retreat, forward
march, or turn around all done
by the silent and unseen power
men call Electricity, and that
over miles of space with no visi
ble connection. Now if that isn't
about the limit, then I don't know
what the limit is.
But that opens up a new field
for speculation. If one ship can
be handled that way, then others
can. If Germany can do it, then
other nations can do it, and so
when the next war breaks out
the contending powers can just
rig up their fleets and send them
out to the high seas to fight it
out. That style of wireless and
manless warfare will save a great
many human lives, and when one
fleet destroys the other, that
ought to settle it.
A soldierless war! Just think
of it! That would seem to be
one step in the right direction,
but I'm afraid it won't satisfy
this old wicked world there will
not be enough blood in it.
Turn out one gang of grand
rascals and put in another. That's
J the idea. Whoop-ee!
SOOK, CALFY, HERE'S
YOUR MAMMY.
Washington, D. C, Nov. 8. There
was an addition to the White House
family today when Pauline Wayne,
the first cow of the land, gave , birth
to a husky boy calf in the White
House stables. The youngster weighs
100 pounds. At the stable it is re
ported that both mother and infant
re doing well. Pauline Wayne is a.
cow of wonderful pedigree, presented
to President Taft by Senator Steph
enson, of Wisconsin. Woman's Na
tional Daily.
Sook, sook, sook! Moo, moo,
moo ! Beezlins ! Calf -rope ! Hel-
labaloo ! Get down the old ban
jo and bring out the little
brown jug and let's all get drunk
and celebrate. This is a red-letter
occasion in the history of A-
merica. Nothing of such far-
reaching importance has happen
ed since Heck was a pup. All
other subjects dwindle into noth
ingness when compared with this
glorious event. Shout it from the
housetops and proclaim it in the
streets ! Publish far and wide
the glad tidings that the Stork
has visited the White House sta
bles and that the first cow of the
land has fotch forth a new-born
calf.
How sweet and soul-sat isfjdng
it is to know this, and to know
that both mother and infant are
doing well. It was very kind of
the Ass-ociated Press to run a
special wire to the stable and to
open temporary headquarters in
the hay-loft. I don't know how
we could have borne up under
the disappointment if they had
neglected, to do this.
And to those faithful news
papers which sent their staff art
ists to get pictures of His Ma
jesty, the royal bull calf, our un
bounded thanks are due.
I know it must have been a
holy sight to see President Taft
and his Cabinet go trotting out
to the stable to do homage to the
new arrival. I guess they hired
about five trained nurses at forty
dollars a week to teach the young
gentleman what his legs were
made for and to train him up in
the way an official calf should go
Imagine the Wise Men of
Washington marching up Penn
sylvania Avenue with this song
NUMBER TEN.
in their mouths: "Where is he
that is born Bull of the White
House, for we have seen his pic
ture in the papers and have come
to see him suck?"
Great is the offspring of Paul
ine Wayne! Bring out the fam
ily Bible and record his name and
birth-date. Write it in letters of
gold, for he is a prince among
cows.
Let the poor man's child go
ragged and hungry. Let it die
of cold and starvation. Nobody
cares. But the big man's calf
must have attention. It must be
petted and pampered and comb
ed and cared for like a baby, and
if it gets the belly-ache the world
must know it. A spraddle-legged
bull calf, if it-happens to be born
at the White House, is more val
uable than thousands of mere hu
man children. Oh, that we might
all be White House calves! Then
we would be noticed.
A JACKASS-FIRING MA
CHINE. History tells us that once when
Gen. Arney went out to fierht the
Indians, he strapped a Gatling
gun onto the back of a jackass,
then backed the jackass into po- .
ition and started the music. Af
ter the battle was over, the In
dian Chief said:
"We are not afraid of your
guns and your bowie knives, but
when you begin to fire jackasses
at us we want peace." f
Gen. Arney evidently knew
his business, and I wish I could
hire him to fire some more jack
asses I know. I would like to buy
a machine that would fire jack
asses. You bet I'd keep it busy.
I would take it to Washington
first of all and fire the jackasses
who misrepresent us at the Na
tional Capital. Then I would
fire the jackasses who voted for
the other jackasses. Oh, I tell
you I could have lots of fun with
one of those jackass-firing ma
chines. My ginger-mill was rusty wheK
I started The Fool-Killer, but I
am now getting it in jim-dandy
working order. If you want me
to do your grinding for a year,
just send along your corn.