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Show NOT THE DOG'S FAULT. <br><br> A very indignant man leading a dog stalked into Uncle Eph's house yesterday and said: "Eph, you black rascal, here's your dog; give me back the $3 I paid you for it." "What's de mattah wid de dawg?" asked Eph, calm and unruffled. "You warranted it to hunt chickens, didn't you?" "An' don't 'e?" "No; he isn't worth a cent at it." "Did you try de dawg?" said Eph, taking his pipe form his mouth and knocking the ashes from it. "Certainly I did, and he's a first-class fraud." "How war de chickens cooked?" "Cooked?" "Yes, was they boiled?" "Of course not." "Did you roas' dem?" "Why, you old idiot, they were prairie chickens." "Dat 'splains it," said Eph. "I tought dar was suffin wrong. You jest cook de chickens and gib de dawg half a chance and see how he'll hunt for dem. Folks 'spect too much," he added, as the gentleman kicked the dog into a corner and rushed out, "'dey 'spects 'tirely too much from de cullud people. Et dat man was fool 'nuff to 'spect dat he war gwine to git a dawg for free dollars dat would hunt live chickens, he was fool 'nuff to bleeb dat we's squar in de middle of de milleen-yum, and eberybdoy knows how big a fool dat am." |