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Wouldn't Burn His Boots

Wouldn't Burn His Boots image
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After he had sold bis load of wood and had received $4. 25 for it he strolled over to the little combination billiard parlor and barrooni on the other side of the square. His faded old eyes lighted up and his new cowhide boots, larded generously in grease, squeaked exultantly as he thought of that drink he had been planning to get ever since he left the farm at daybreak. "Jest one old snifter Oí that good old lifter," he cooed to hiniself, "andl'll be primea ter start fer houie. "A bout one finger of that oíd red eye will do the bizness, I calcúlate, " he confided to the bartender, as he pulled a feverish red mitten f rom his right band and jarumed it dowu iu hig "pauts" pocket. "I ain't a drinkiu man - never was - bnt when it's so cold outside yer breath freezes ter t'waggiu wheels ye's got ter resort ter sonie powerful remedy ter tbaw it out." The bartender igreed with kim. For mouths he had watched the old farmers come iu, order just one finger of whisky and drink a wkole haudful of fingèrs tor the íiniuifestly uufuir expenditure of 10 cents. He liad decided to puta stop to it. and the farmer with the new cowhide boots was the iirst victiiu. The remedy lie placed before him was powerful eiiongh to thaw the Yukou. The old man poured his glass full - just as the bartender knew he would - aud gulped it down iu one big swallow. Tbe effect was instantaueous. The victim gave oue convulsiva shudder, looked reproachfully at the bartender and whirled around four times. Then he sat down and hastily begau to pull off his cowhide boots. "What the mischief are you doiug tliat for'í" inquired the astouished barteuder. "Can't ye see thom's braud new boots?" gasped thevictim. "D'ye think I'm goin ter let them burn up tew?" -


Ann Arbor Argus
Old News