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flHBr/ / 14/ /■'ISiR _ / A.70 /jT nvA, fc \fl Mg \/: Xk* > IXV A ■' \ \/ vX /(A e<> 4>/ A fllfl /X -« x )n\ *°^ R *H^& CB£ *^° 0<i ’ b M fl §fl®/\ /MvKjZ KtHKsK'S ' TV k2/7~ S: X> SSkj W st ■ t * *"*’ CvJWHfflti 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