The storekeeper at Yount, Idaho, tells the following tale of Ole Olson, who later became the little town's mayor.
"One night, just before closin' up time, Ole, hatless, coatless, and breathless, come rushin' into the store, an' droppin' on his knees yelled, 'Yon, Yon, hide me, hide me! Ye sheriff's after me!'
"'I've no place to hide you here, Ole,' said I.
"'You moost, you moost!' screamed Ole.
"'Crawl into that gunny-sack then,' said I.
"He'd no more'n gotten hid when in runs the sheriff.
"'Seen Ole?' said he.
"'Don't see him here,' said I, without lyin'.
"Then the sheriff went a-nosin' round an' pretty soon he spotted the gunny-sack over in the corner.
"'What's in here?' said he.
"'Oh, just some old harness and sleigh-bells,' said I.
"With that he gives it an awful boot.
"'Yingle, yingle, yingle!' moaned Ole."
MOTHER—"Tommy, if you're pretending to be an automobile, I wish you'd run over to the store and get me some butter."
TOMMY—"I'm awful sorry, Mother, but I'm all out of gasoline."—Judge.
"Children," said the teacher, instructing the class in composition, "you should not attempt any flights of fancy; simply be yourselves and write what is in you. Do not imitate any other person's writings or draw inspiration from outside sources."
As a result of this advice Tommy Wise turned out the following composition: "We should not attempt any flights of fancy, but write what is in us. In me there is my stummick, lungs, hart, liver, two apples, one piece of pie, one stick of lemon candy and my dinner."
"A great deal of fun has been poked at the realistic school of art," says a New York artist, "and it must be confessed that some ground has been given to the enemy. Why, there recently came to my notice a picture of an Assyrian bath, done by a Chicago man, and so careful was he of all the details that the towels hanging up were all marked 'Nebuchadnezzar' in the corner, in cuneiform characters."