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Newspaper Page Text
iiJSHC I 3El?e.IHAF N
W;3 I DOESSV To
T V?. OXPLAWT. 1
Old Slyfellow ' was not only a
poacher himself, but he was the fath
er of others. This fact was known to
Gunner, the gamekeeper, who would
have, given much to capture his old
Slyfellow always escaped, however,
and, not content with this, he was
wont to "poke fun" at the keeper by
continually asking how the birds
were, and if they were worth the
trouble of a moonlight stroll.
The other evening, for once in a
way, the Gunner scored a point. A
good company was assembled in the
village inn when Slyfellow entered.
"Halloa, Gunner!" he remarked
genially. "How's the birds?"
"Promising! Promising!" returned
the gamekeeper. "Everything in
their favor; fairly dry season .and
stthree of your lads in jail they ought
:o do well!"
CAME OFF EASY
The squire was called upon to set
tle many neighborhood troubles. At
times his sense of humor and his
sense of justice were at odds.
"You say you did not threaten Mrs.
Leahy, as she claims you did?" said
the squire one day, when Mrs. Leahy
and her intermittent friend, Mrs.
Schwab, were both before him with a
direful tale. "You did not offer her
any personal violence?"
"Me! No, I neffer offered no fio
lence to anypody," and . Mrs.
Schwab's large face was devoid of
any expression save one of sulky in
nocence. "What is it I hear about your
threatening to pull Mrs. Leahy's
hair?" asked the squire. "Do you re
member saying anything of that
"But that is no fiolence," said Mrs.
Schwab, looking still sulkier. "There
is nopody except mens that would not
know Mrs. Leahy's hair could not
hurt her if you pull it. It would joost
come off easy."
Phil. H. Morris, the eminent por
trait painter, who died when his fame
was at its height, had a very unpleas
ant experience whilst visiting a weal
thy merchant who had commissioned
him to paint his wife and baby for the
sum of seven hundred dollars.
The first evening Mr. Morris and
his "employer" were discussing the
"pose," and the artist, thinking it
would be effective if the child were
lying on the hearthrug with just a
vest on, and his mother leaning over
playing "This little pig went to mar
"How. dare you, sir? Do you wish
to insult me? I've half a mind to
countermand my order," roared the
irate wealthy magnate. Poor Phil.
Morris couldn't think what harm he
had done until a few days later he
learned that his patron had made his
money in "pork," and was known as
the "Bacon King,