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Night was approaching and it was raining hard. The traveler dismounted
from his horse and rapped at the door of the one farmhouse he had struck
in a five-mile stretch of traveling. No one came to the door.

As he stood on the doorstep the water from the eaves trickled down his
collar. He rapped again. Still no answer. He could feel the stream of
water coursing down his back. Another spell of pounding, and finally the
red head of a lad of twelve was stuck out of the second story window.

"Watcher want?" it asked.

"I want to know if I can stay here over night," the traveler answered
testily.

The red-headed lad watched the man for a minute or two before answering.

"Ye kin fer all of me," he finally answered, and then closed the window.


The old friends had had three days together.

"You have a pretty place here, John," remarked the guest on the morning
of his departure. "But it looks a bit bare yet."

"Oh, that's because the trees are so young," answered the host
comfortably. "I hope they'll have grown to a good size before you come
again."


A youngster of three was enjoying a story his mother was reading aloud
to him when a caller came. In a few minutes his mother was called to the
telephone. The boy turned to the caller and said "Now you beat it
home." Ollie James, the famous Kentucky Congressman and raconteur, hails
from a little town in the western part of the state, but his patriotism
is state-wide, and when Louisville made a bid for the last Democratic
national convention she had no more enthusiastic supporter than James. A
Denver supporter was protesting.

"Why, you know, Colonel," said he, "Louisville couldn't take care of the
crowds. Even by putting cots in the halls, parlors, and the dining-rooms
of the hotels there wouldn't be beds enough."

"Beds!" echoed the genial Congressman, "why, sir, Louisville would make
her visitors have such a thundering good time that no gentleman would
think of going to bed!"





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