Newspapers / The Fool-Killer (Pores Knob, … / Jan. 1, 1913, edition 1 / Page 1
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.1 VOL. III. Hurrah for Parcel Post. Oh, I see the postman coming, Sorter wobbly in the legs, With a dozen pounds of butter And a crate or two of eggs. There's a peck of Irish potatoes In your Uncle Sammy's rig, And a sack or two of flour, And a puppy and a pig. Oh, the postman is a blessing In these glorious latter days; We rejoice to see him coming, And we love to sing his praise. G lory ! See the pretty bundles All piled up here in the door! Guess they came from Roars & Saw buck Ever see the like before? Here's a great big umbrella That will surely turn the rain, And a suit of clothes for Tommy, And a dress for Liza Jane. ' Here's a pair of shoes for Daddy, That he ordered t'other day, And a set of wagon harness, And a bale of clover hay. My! Here's several heads of cabbage, And a poke of turnip greens, And a basket full of apples And a jar of pickled beans.' "Hold on, postman, where's my letters? Some one surely must have wrote." "Didn't bring no letters, mister This was all that I could tote." MORAVIAN FALLS, NORTH GREAT GOBS OF SORROW. Joe Bailey has resigned again! Ain't it just dreadful? How can we ever stand it? ' And they have gone and stuck a little old editor in Joe's place. Of course he will rattle around in that great seat like a hickory-nut in a barrel. And there goes the glory of Texas, like a warty toad jumping in a well. On the day that the immortal Joe said good-bye to the Senate, there was weepine arid blowing of noses. rm t i xnere nas oeen- sorrow in Washington before, but nothing like this. The big brass Indian on top of the Capitol dome sobbed so hard that the basement trembled, and the flood of tears that he shed raised the Potomac River feet. nine The figures in Statuary Hall got down on their knees, and Greenough's Washington came running in from the plaza to ask what was the matter. All over the great building stood little wads of statesmen wringing their hands and weeping on each other's necks, while four niggers were kept busy bailing out the Senate chamber with silk hats. . And all the time there stood Joe Bailey squirting eloquence like a fire hose squirts water, and apparently unconscious of the great sorrow into which he had plunged this nation by resigning from the Senate. Last September when I printed my picture in The Fool-Killer, one Smart Elick writ me a sassy letter about my big mouth. That's all right, buddy I always did like big mouths. They give a- body a better chance when the pie comes around; and, in the case of a girl, there's more to kiss. Come again. CAROLINA, JANUARY, 1913. MILKING A HAY-STACK, Milwaukee, Wis., Special. A. Mil- waukee company has been incorpor- , , . , , , ated to place on the market a new the setting hen, and be remem aubstitute for milk, which in brief is bered only as a creature that has without the intervention of a cow. The new company is to operate un- der a chemical formula which permits of i the transmutation of good timothy hay into ash and milk, without pass- ing through the seven or so stomachs of a bovine critter and being convert- ed; by sundry processes into fluid Che advanWe it is said, is not only in simplifying the production, from in the fact that the manner of its production makes it always sweet as it isfree from the souring bacteria wnich have to be Pasteurized to preserve nature's milk. iJreat Caesar up a pumpkin vine: What do you think of that, Dnn4-a9 xvaotuo: Now what will become of poor old Sook? Bless her old bones, she did the best she could, but goggle- will not require as much atten ded Science has laid it across tion as an old cow. You won't er at las . haye tQ gtake Qut to gj. an(j She will now have to ramble then watch it constantly for fear off into the Southern swamps t ,e up and bhjak itg and live on bullrushes and South f Qol neck It won,t get intQ the W13? ' A , , garden and eat up all the young One by one we outgrow the old Wns . t w tJl. H vn institutions of nature and shove , , - j i , - them aside to maKe room for more improved machinery. The horse was all right in his day and time, and even the meek- eyed mule was not to be grinned : "r.rw r T 7: wneii uic stcciiii lucuiiiuuve aiiu t -1 the gasoline chug-agon came snorting along. And the cow laughed at the old horse and said 0 yes, old feller, they don't need you any more, but they never could get along without me. I am the chief corner-stone of the American home and the strong right arm of the butter trust." And she winked at the bull through the fence-crack and went on licking her calf. But that was in the past. Things are different now. Poor old Sook has learned by bitter experience that pride goeth . NO. 11. before a fall. She must now be relegated to the curiosity depart- men t. alon & with the horse and haa ner uay. "Rut while we dron a tear of . , - , , , , . , sympathy for the departing glory of her COWShiD. we must not f or- , , , , , , . , , &et tnat ner loss IS " our eternal gain. Henceforth we will milk a hay- stack. And we can't deny that a hay-stack, as a milk-producer, has some decided advantages l - ,A nMTT T4? ,y. QT7 rVCi " wvv " Jrv" milked a hay-stack it may seem a bit awkward at first, but you will soon get used to it. Just to mention them off-hand, 1 1 j? j? xi j j- "fe . . Ui "ie auvailU4ges I have in mind: In the first place, a hay-stack uT . - n - were hoping to get a mess for Sunday dinner. Any self-respect- inor Vis-eHtnrV will Vinvo mnro I amara than t , a .fo t , thebarn.yard filth and then slap it in your face while you are ; milking. And it won't flinder I j i.i i .1 , away anu kick, yuu uium uiruuRii ft fence and break down rows of corn with you just be cause a fly bites it. And oh, happy thought! if adopt the new plan and milk hay-stack instead of a cow, there, Wl11 neer more wobbly-legged calves to hold off a,nd wea,n; fact, tickle "e sma D0V whose chief temp- tation to commit suicide and go to an efser TorJd , has heen the dreaded arrival of a new calf. Rejoice, O people, and be glad Ymi lived to see this day; Go 8611 old Sooky right at once, And buy a stack of hay. v 9
The Fool-Killer (Pores Knob, N.C.)
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Jan. 1, 1913, edition 1
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