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The Biggest Lie of All.
The “LoHabout Club,” or as it for
merly styled itself, The “ Lilliput
Club,” ou account of the smallness of
damage they intended to do the com
munity ; but which had had their self
chosen named changed by the popular
expression as being more fitting to
their occupation —metaround the curb
stone for a pleasant afternoon’s hour
of social talk.
Jim Sykes first took the floor, or
rather the sidewalk, with the question :
“Boys, what shall we do to determine
who shall set up the drinks; or, in oth
er words, to use a slang expression,
who shall we put the beer on, this af
ternoon ?”
“Well, let’s have a game of ten
pins,” said Sam Harding.
“Oh, no,” said two or three simul
taneously, “the evening’s too hot for
such heavy exertion.”
“Suppose we try a game of poker,”
said Bob McDonner.
“No, Sir!” said Reuben Small,” no
poker for to-day, please. Poker has
been played under one name and an
other for a thousand years. Let’s vary
the programme a little on that.”
“Boys,” said Jim Sykes, springing
to his feet and facing the group, “I’ve
got an idea.”
“Oh, no!” “A member
of this club got an idea!” “Let’s expel
him! That’s contrary to all tradition,”
exclaimed several in chorus.
“‘Strike, but hear me,’ as Aristides
said,” exclaimed Jim, posing in a dra
matic attitude.
“All right, boys, hit him with a
stick and then hear him afterwards,”
said Tom Harding. “But what’s your
idea, Jim ?”
“Why, here’s my idea, and it is a
good one. Let’s all chip in and treat,
to a gallon of choice old Monongahela,
the one who tells the most improbable
lie, a lie that evidently has no founda
tion in fact. While you know its
hard to tell a lie that hasn’t got some
appearance of truth about it, yet what
we want is a regular whopper, and the
fellow that can tell one that has evi
dently got no grounds of reason to sus
tain it is the chap that wins the treats
from the crowd.”
“Ha!! Ha!! Ha!! Ha!! That’s very
good,” said Reuben, Toni and all the
rest simultaneously.
“Well, Tom, you begin,” said Jim.
“All right,” said Tom, clearing his
throat and looking up above the tops
of the trees and meditating for a min
ute :
“One time a cousin of mine was on
a trip to Europe for his health. The
sheriff had called around to invite
Cousin Jack to come and pay him a
visit, and as he feared the minion of
the law had his headquarters in a very
unhealthy portion of the county, Jack
concluded that he would take a trip to
Europe until the excitement died out.”
“Nothing improbable in that, Tom,”
said Rube Small; “if he was kin to
you we might expect him to have
cleared out to Europe under some such
circumstances.”
“Well, now, I object to being in
terrupted in any such manner as that;
but as I was going to say, Cousin
Jack was fortunate enough to be ad
mitted to the execution of a fellow, by
the guillotine. It was a horrid sight,
he said, and at that moment when they
were about to fasten him to the plank
the prisoner began to struggle, and
pushed the executioner around against
the post, which jarred the framework,
and down came the big heavy meat
axe and chopped off the executioner’s
leg right above the knee. Os course,
everybody expected him to die, or go
stumping through the world on one
leg. The doctors, however, came for
ward, bandaged up the leg, put the
lower portion to the place where it had
been cut off, and used one kind of ar
rangement and another, and finally
took him off to the hospital. They
then went ahead with the execution
and chopped off the prisoner’s head,
and that was the last of him. About
three months after that Cousin Jack
was back in Paris and went around to
the office of justice to see what had be
come of the poor fellow who had his
leg cut off, and what was his astonish
ment to see the individual himself
walking around as chipper as a cricket,
with his leg grown together like it had
been before, the only difference being
that it was a little stiff in the knee
joint.”
“Well, I don’t know but what we
had better give it up right now,” said
Sol Judkins, “that’s a tough one, I tell
you.”
“Oh, no,” sang out one or two, “we
will hear it through and give every
body a chance. The wonders of sur
gery now are something that would
not have been believed fifty years ago,
and I don’t know but what such a
thing as that might have been.”
“Boys,” said Rube Small, who had
the next turn, “I was out hunting one
time, and jumped a rabbit and ran it
down through some land which was
just being cleared up. I kept trying
to get a good chance to shoot, but
couldn’t. Suddenly, however, my
THE KENNESAW GAZETTE.
game ran squarely against a woodman’s
axe which was leaning up against a
small stump, with the sharp edge for
ward. He struck it right plump in
the center of his forehead and the mo
mentum was so great that it literally
split him in two. While this last pro
cess was going on, little ‘cotton-tail’
was stationery for a second or two, and
I banged loose, and you wouldn’t be
lieve it, but the bullet was split by
the edge of the axe and one half went
off to the right and killed a turkey
gobbler and the other half whizzed off
to the left and went through the head
of a rattlesnake that was charming the
gobbler.”
“Well,” said Jim Sykes,” that was a
most extraordinary occurence, yet it
was physically possible for it to have
occurred. You can’t have the gallon
of whisky, Rube.”
Next came Bob McDonner, w’ho be
gan thus:
“One night I was out on a lark with
the boys until about one o’clock, and
then concluded that I had about as
much as I could carry, and thought it
best to start home. The night was bit
ter cold and it was raining. When I
got to the house I saw that there was
a light in the sitting-room. I made a
little noise getting up the steps —in
fact, to Hing a little truth into the
midst of this lie, I was so drunk that
I stumbled and fell down. Just about
the time I had picked myself up again
and was steadying my legs against the
bannisters, my mother-in-law came to
the door and opened it. My mother
in-law, boys, is one of the very best
women in the world.”
“Oh, hush. That idea is as old as
Moses. The mother-in-law racket is
played out,” exclaimed the whole
party in a chorus.
“Well, boys, you will admit that
good mothers-in-law are phenomenal.”
“No, sir, no, sir, no, sirrebob! Not
all of them. Some mothers-in-law are
just as good as any other women. In
fact, I believe as a rule they are. You
started on too antiquated a joke to win
with this crowd.”
“Yes,” “said Bill Motter, “ring
the chestnut bell on him.”
Bob sat down with some discom
fiture, and all eyes were turned up to
Jim Sykes, who sat next in the row.
“Well, gentlemen,” said Jim, with
a merry twinkle in his eye, “several
years ago I took a railroad trip with
my sweetheart, one of the prettiest
girls in all creation. Oh, lawdy, what
lips and eyes she did have! Well, we
went off on a railroad train, and, by
the way, it was one of the best rail
roads in the country. Best in every
respect in which you can talk about a
railroad, and you will appreciate how
superior it was, when I tell you it was
even better than the ‘Sidetrack.’”
“Here!! Here!! Here!!” “Oh,
stop, you needn’t go any further.”
“ There, that closes it.” “We all
cave.”
“Yes,” said Charlie Dobbs, who
hadn’t been heard from, “we surrender
without firing a gun. Nobody could
tell as improbable a lie as that. Why,
there isn’t the first element of probabil
ity about such a thing being true as
that last remark of yours,” and then
they all chipped in and treated Jim as
being the biggest liar in America.
A Good Way to End the War.
Not long ago one of our videttes,
east of the city, was crawling cautious
ly through the bushes on a trip of in
vestigation looking out for bushwhack
ers. He thought he heard a noise,
and concluded he could gobble a rebel
just in no time. As he crept up over
a log on one side, a hairy butternut
individual crawled up on the other,
confronting him, and not more than a
yard off. Both parties stopped stock
still, “just like a frozen statue,” for
fully a minute when Guerrilla broke
the silence, thus:
“Hello, Yank! Ye thought ye would
ketch this chicken napping didn’t ye?”
Fed. —“ What are you crawling
around in the bushes, like a snake in
the grass for? Thought you’d fool
somebody didn’t you? Come along
with me, old fellow!”
Confed. —“No you don’t. You
come in out of the wet with me. Ycu
are my prisoner!”
Fed.—“ Prisoner, be blowed ! I’ll
bet you ten dollars in greenbacks
against Confederate notes, even, that
you are my prisoner.”
Confed.—“l’ll do it, lay your ten
spot on the log, I will cover it. If I
don’t take you into camp you can win
my pile.”
The stakes were put up, when the
question how to decide the matter came
up. Finally, a game of seven-up was
agreed upon, the first ten points to
take the stakes, and the other as a
prisoner. The necessary pack was
produced, whereupon they both sat
astride the log, and played a lively
game of old sledge. Another vidette
came up soon after and took them both
into custody, and broke up the game,
and the day before yesterday the Con
federate chap was sent out with a par
ty of other prisoners to be exchanged.
—(F rom ‘ ‘ The Camp Follower”) Mem
phis Bulletin.
The little “Riverside Route,” as
the Rome Railroad is called, is not
only one of the most popular in
Georgia, but is also lined with beauti
ful scenery. Shortly after leaving
Kingston, on the Western & Atlantic
Railroad, it reaches the valley of the
Etowah river, and from there to Rome
it is almost continuously in sight of the
river. The scenery which is shown on
a succession of magnificent farms and
the beautiful river, one never grows
tired of. Os the Rome Railroad al
most the same thing may be said as of
the Western & Atlantic Railroad, that
“it is the biggest thing for its size in
Ameriky.”
Only via the Western and Atlantic
railroad can you go to Elizabeth, “the
marble city of Georgia,” where there
is the most wonderful marble cutting
machinery in the world. Tourists
will miss it if they do not stop at Ma
rietta and go up to Elizabeth, only
two miles distant, immediately at the
foot of the famous Kennesaw Moun
tain.
It is so seldom that a passenger train
on the Western & Atlantic is late that
even the boot-blacks gather in the de
pot and ascertain the cause of the de
lay when a train is not on time.
Chattanooga Times.
5
