154 Old Days on the Farm 



It was a charming evening, the date chosen for 

 the nocturnal harvest of 'coons. There was a 

 cloudless sky and the man in the moon was one 

 vast substantial smile. 



"If there ain't 'coons out to-night, I don't know 

 nothin'," observed the President as he ran his 

 eye over the landscape and his faithful following. 



The dog, a mongrel with a stub-tail, and bearing 

 the scars of many battles, was straining at the 

 leash — a rope halter, appropriated from a farm- 

 er's stable. The canine was the subject of much 

 patting and many words of endearment. 



A musically inclined young 'coon hunter broke 

 into song trilling forth the most recent parody on 

 ''The Old Grey Bonnet." 



''Say, young fellow," broke in the chief 'coon 

 hunter, "if you will warble, let it be a 'coon song, 

 this is no golden wedding affair with blue ribbons 

 on it. Sing 'coon melody or cut it out." 



THE president's ADDRESS 



"Boys," said the President, as tne gang stood 

 at attention on the roadside waiting for the word 

 to take to the woods, "maybe a few directions 

 wouldn't be amiss. Follow the dog, and don't be 

 misled by the yelping of an ordinary farmhouse 

 cur and wander off. This is a mighty big country 

 and after night it's hard to tell a concession from 

 a sideroad. Don't try to break through a barbed- 

 wire fence, the wires don't always break when you 



