He smiled sarcastically, showing his glorious wealth of mouth, but still sat there as though he had stuck his tail into the door-steps and couldn't get it out. So I waived the formality of going in at the front door, and went around to the portcullis, on the off side of the house, but Kosciusko was there when I arrived. The cook, seeing a stranger lurking around the manor-house, encouraged Kosciusko to come and gorge himself with a part of my leg, which he did. Acting on this hint I went to the barn. I do not know why I went to the barn, but somehow there was nothing in the house that I wanted. When a man wants to be by himself there is no place like a good, quiet barn for thought. So I went into the barn, about three feet prior to Kosciusko. Noticing the stairway, I ascended it in an aimless kind of way, about four steps at a time. What happened when we got into the haymow I do not now recall, only that Kosciusko and I frolicked around there in the hay for some time. Occasionally I would be on the top, and then he would have all the delegates, until finally I got hold of a pitchfork, and freedom shrieked when Kosciusko fell. I wrapped myself up in an old horse-net and went into the house. Some of my clothes were afterwards found in the hay, and the doctor pried a part of my person out of Kosciusko's jaws, but not enough to do me any good. I have owned, in all, eleven dogs, and they all died violent deaths, and went out of the world totally unprepared to die. Bill Nye. Er a hawk away up there, Hear the old hen squawk, and squat Suddent-like !-And she knows where You jes' bet yer life she do!— V. Pee-wees' singin', to express In those base-ball clothes o' his, Sun out in the field kin sizz, VI. Plague! ef they aint sompin' in Here in June especially ! — Jes' a-restin' through and through, I could git along without Nothin' else at all to do VII. Lay out there and try to see Yer straw hat acrost yer eyes, In betwixt the beautiful Clouds o' gold and white and blue !Month a man kin railly love June, you know, I'm talkin' of! VIII. March ain't never nothin' new! Aprile's altogether too Brash fer me! and May-I jes' 'Bominate its promises, Little hints o' sunshine and Green around the timber-land A few blossoms, and a few 'Fore daylight and snows agin!— But when June comes-Clear my throat With wild honey! Rench my hair. In the dew! and hold my coat! |