The nonpartisan leader. [volume], August 16, 1917, Image 13

About The nonpartisan leader. [volume] (Fargo, N.D.) 1915-1921

Image provided by: State Historical Society of North Dakota

                
First Man—"Let's take a drink of
•wine."
Second Man—"Thank you, I never
drink wine."
First Man—"Have a cigar?"
Second Man—"I never smoke."
First Man—"Have a chew of tobac
co?"
Second Man—"I don't chew."
First Man—"Well then, let's eat some
hay."
Second Man—"I never eat hay."
First Man—"I see you are not good
company for either man or beast."
TOO MANY OF 'EM
The provisional government of Rus
sia has been offered $5000 a week to
let ex-Czar Nicholas pose for the
American movies. Apparently ex-czars,
ex-kings and so forth don't get as high
quotations as Charley Chaplin and
Mary Pickford.
A NEW SONG
Stick, brother, stick stick like glue
Stick all together and we'll see it
through.
Teacher—"Now, children,
we smell with our noses,
run with our feet and—"
Little Boy (interrupting)
—"My mother says my
nose runs and my feet
em ell."
A farm magazine
heads an article "Plant
Lice." But Northwest
ern farmers won't heed
any advice like that
There's no demand for
the crop. We'll plant
potatoes, wheat, beans
or anything of that
'sort but will not "plant
lice" we should say
not!
If they would promise to
(tend all the American
troops to Champagne, we
know of thousands and
thousands of men from the
dry states that would vol-,
itnteer.
IF YOU CAN'T GET TO
BE KNOWN AS A PA
TRIOT ANT OTHER WAT
JUST CALL SOMEBODY
ELSE A TRAITOR.
AND FOR POLITICIANS
If everybody followed the
motto "Silence is golden"
tt would- be kind of tough
for the newspapers.
EVERT TIME SOME
FOOD COMMISSION
STARTS TO INVESTI
GATE WHAT HASH/ IS
MADE OUT OF IT MAKES US NER
VOUS. WE'RE HAPPY SO LONG
AS WE DON'T KNOW.
MORE H. C. of L. By E. B. F.
(News- Item—Whalers of Washing
ton and Alaska have started a move
ment to popularize whale meat as an
article of human diet during the war).
Bring on your whale meat! We'll try
It and then
we find that we like It well try it
again.
But one word of warning well drop on
the fly—
Well quit when the Whale Trust boosts
prices too high.
on the whale meat TO bet Mrs.
Jones
Win find ways to cook It and then use
the bogies,
The smaller In corsets that'Bet off her
flgger,
A-nH chairs and the suchlike well make
from the bigger.
Well rebuild the oven fes large as we
can
And borrow the Tomkinson's Mg bafe
ing pan.
One fair-sized whale rib roast should
last for a week
And fill ev*ry farm hand until he cant
speak.
And whales, so they
tell
us,
give milk,
This ought to make farm work go
smoother than silk.
A small herd of whale cows should be
on each farm,
They'll feed on the gophers and rats
without harm.
One milking, they tell us, though
strange it may seem,
Gives five hundred gallons, and nearly
all cream.
Of course, all the milkmaid^ must wear
divers' suits,
With water tight headgear and water
tight boots.
Of course, all the whale cows are na
tur'ly shy,
If water dogs run them, they're apt to
go dry.
But kind words and patience will sure
turn the trick,
And however they're pestered, no whale
cow can kick.
IF Oftcr ZCpoco ee.
t&o
MR-
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re A
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But, speaking of whale meat, if I
rightly recall
A fellow named Jonah was first of
them all.
"He tried it and liked it a long while
ago.
What's that you say, stranger? You
say that ain't so?
The whale ate up Jonah? Well, maybe
thafs right
But I'm not so fussy when whale meat's
in sight.
I promise to eat it from head to Its
tail,
Never mind any fixin's—just bring on
your whale.
WHATTAYA MEAN "FAKERS?"
A sad tragedy in North Dakota's
animal life was brought to light in the
police court at Ray recently when three
hunters were brought in on a charge
of shooting a prairie chicken out of
season. The hunters told the court of
the great heroism of the prairie
Chicken. It seems they were aiming at
A rabbit- but just as the trigger was
pulled the heroic prairie chicken flew
Id front of the rabbit, thus saving the
rabbit'^ life at the expense of its own.
However, a heartless judge fined the
hunters $10 apiece and in passing sent
ence
said something about nature fak
ers. What do you Boppose he meant?
He tries his best, does Henry Gill,
Tet somehow—can you beat it?
Although be runs and runs a bill
He
never seems to meet it
THAT'S THE WAY WITH SOME PEEPUL
BEE-LINE FENCES
'"Enough's enough, but less don't
pay," as Grand Dad Perkins used to
say. "Divide the melon fair and
square fork over half, but keep your
share." Plain, homely phrases, hard
as stones, philosophy that knows no
bones, and yet the kind that fills the
shelf for both yaur neighbor and your
self.
When but a lad of fifteen tolls—brain
filled with fishing and swimming holes
IM
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PAGE THIRTEEN
—I helped him build a bee-line fence
between his land and Neighbor Spence.
By accident I set one post two inches
"out," or three at most. "Yer out of
line" my grand dad cried, a-sighting
at it squinty-eyed. "I see," said I, "a
trifle out, but not* enough to care
about." "Two Inches 'out' is two too
much, 'nd then taint only that as
such, but lookee here, where will ye
land?" and he drew a figure on his
hand with a burnt match, and showed
me how a two-inch slant right here
and now would take me fifty feet
astray in building fence for just one
day. "And should ye slant back," he
added, "see—yer 'off of Spence and
In' on me. Up with the post bee
line the fence that's best for both my
self and Spence."
A BACKSLIDER
Grand Dad was right he sowed a
seed that sprouted in my moral creed.
I deal with men as he built fence a
bee-line creed is common sense. I aim
to fence In rigid line between men's
normal rights and mine should I get
"out" beyond my share I move the post
right then and there. The smallest
trifle out of plumb will slant in big
in years to come. I don't slant back,
for don't you see, that's apt to cut 'way
in on me. No, pull the post bee-line
the fence, that's best for both your
self and Spence enough's enough, but
less don't pay, as Grand Dad Perkins
used to say.
I grew sick of milking Jerseys on the farm, and of lugging
in the fodder on my arm I grew sick of filling mows, and of
tramping after plows, and of rising by a four o'clock alarm. I
grew weary of the squealing of the swine, and the bleating and
the bawling of the kine of the crowing of the cock, and the cack
ling of the flock, and the buzzing of the beetles on the vine. I
grew tired of wringing dollars "from the dirt, so I puckered up my
courage to desert then I sold the stuff I had, said a fare-you-well
to dad, and I changed the cut and color of my shirt.
They call a baseball team a
"nine" but the Leader couldn't go
through the mails if we told what
they call the umpire.
I grew sick of all the clatter of the street, of the hurry and
the scurry of the feet of the autos whizzing by, of the smoky
patch of sky, and the sight of somber coppies on their beat. I grew
weary of the struggle for the "spawn," of my dinkey little
garden, and my lawn, while the groaning of the trolley gave me
chronic melancholy, and I hankered for a rooster-call at dawn.
When I sold the little business that I had, I went shouting home
to Mary with my "scad," and I yelled: "Sew up the tear in the
shirt I used to wear, for we're going back to farm beside of dad.''
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—Drawn expressly for The Leader.
J. E. T.
THE SPOON IS AN INSIGNIFI
CANT LITTLE UTENSIL BUT IT
CREATES A STIR IN EVERY HOME.
A PASTIME NOW OUT OF DATE:
PULLING CORKS AT GRAND
FORKS.
THE PROPER PLACE FOR FOOD
SPECULATORS IS IN THE FRONT
LINE TRENCHES. BUT THE ARMY
REFUSES TO TAKE MEN OF POOR
MORAL CHARACTER.
BLAME THAT WAR,
ANYWAY!
Don't blame the local
grocer when he boosts the
price of tea, for war is on
and tea of course is "made
in Germany" don't kick if
gasoline is high there's
war across the brine, and
gasoline, you know, is made
at Bingen on the Rhine
don't jaw the druggist if he
wants a fancy price for
pills, for everything a
druggist sells is mined in
German hills don't
wrangle at the butcher
when he raises on his
steak—the beef supply is
limited without the Ger
man make don't stew be
cause your winter's duds
take all your summer's
dough, for drygoods now
can not be shipped from
Germany, you know the
hardware man is high on
nails, and bolts, and tacks,
and tin—don't say a word,
his scanty stock was smug
gled from Berlin! The
"News and Times" next
year will cost another half
a bone, but printer's ink is
only made at Frankfort
and Cologne! The milliner
has, fleeced your wife?
Why, that's a German hat
be honest, man just blame
a a it a
that! Don't blame our
honest middlemen when
a a
bravely take your medicine
and calmly blame the weir!
THE VOTE HAD JUST BEEN
TAKEN, "ON THE FACE OF IT,"
SAID THE CHAIRMAN, "THE AYES
SEEM TO BE A LITTLE ABOVE
THE NOES."
It has been cooler in the houses
this week, for the heat has been
in-tense.
Why on earth was the name "trust"
ever applied to something that can not
be trusted?
Dr. Guild seems to have warmed up
again in southern California, When
the Dr. left Fargo he had cold feet.
ONE COMPLAINT OF THE LOCAli
DEALER IS THAT HE DOES NOT
GET CREDIT FOR GIVING CREDIT.
BESSIE—"These bumper crops may
be all right, but they are mighty hard
on the soil!"
OPPIE—"These crop failures may
work a hardship on some, but I tell
you they are mighty easy on the soil!"
WITH THE BONE-DRY LAW IN
FULL BLAST ONLY THE MOON
DARES TO GET FULL IN HARVEST
TIME.
By eliminating the middlemen a
certain well known typewriter com
pany has been able to reduce the
cost of its maohine from $100 to
$49. Evidently the middlemen
had controlling interest—fifty-one
per cent.