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Show I ARTIE 1 ! HI Adventure i In Love, Life and the Paruii ' of Happiness ; By GEORGE ADE Artie GeU Back to Nature EVEKT breeze that came In at the open windows waa soft ai velvet. vel-vet. The warm sunshine bad tempered It until the last atlng of wloter was gone. Miller and Artie bad removed their coats and unbuttoned ihelr vests. They worked listlessly, and occasionally occasion-ally one of them would lean back and (Hie sleepily out at the walls and roofs and the distant ribbon of lake, now dotted here and there with mov-Jj mov-Jj Ing specks. .I "A man ought to be pinched for workln' a day like this," Artie finally final-ly observed. "Isn't It delightful r said Miller. This Is the time of year when a man feels like getting out Into the country." coun-try." "That alnt no Ue, neither. Tou don't see very many Jobnny-Jump-ups growlV along Dearborn street, do you?" "Do you expect to get away from town often this summer" fWtsUonthe level h?. E nt t '. When he aald that I didn't know what k tad of a combination Td struck.- SL i It,ha,,eary " the summer time, th'Hhefi, TT ot P. ' tell you erabhed w b, the leg and pued me Well t lij' P'yftU guy, all right downstairs, dead on my feet Tou ?! ,h' four or 8 "ours' eep. when they see me they all bired girl. My aunt asked me what time I gnt Up whea , WM t and I aald never before seven o'clock, and then they all yelled again. The, aeemed to think I was blooey. Ev-erythlng Ev-erythlng I done or said they give me tne ha-ha." "Of course life ln the city Is much different," said Miller. "Well. I gUesa jet. know J towa like a book. I can begin at the nrst card and go through the deck but out tbere-they lose me. They had me lookln' like a sap all the time. The worst one was the hired hand. His name waa Ellas. I see him up here once for the Fat Stock show, dodgln' cars and lookln' tP at the skyscrapers. Be was dead ucky to get out o town without bavin' bav-in' his clothes lifted, and, at that, I ain't sure he did. But down at the farm, he was the Wise Ike and I was J "Gee, I can't go very far. since i I've started plantln' my stuff In the I bank and plunkln' In a few cases ev- I cry month on the bulldln and loan ; game, I've got to play purty close to j ' my bosom, I'll tell you those. Night i before last, though, I was flzln' It up i with Maine to take a little run over I to EL Joe or np to Milwaukee on the ' boat When they let you ride all day ! on the boat for two bucks a throw, w'y that's the place where I cut In freely." "If I'm going to take a vacation," said Miller, "I'd rather get right out Into the country. Don't you like the country T" "Well, I ain't dead sure about that. I 'spose the country's all right to a . man that's lived there, but you take some wise boy that was brought up ln town, and you throw hint out on a farm, and he's sunk. They can't spring none o' that bappy-chlldbood- (BSBarnsMaaBKnan ... i c iuu a was the boob. What do you think 1 The second day I was there I goes out In the fields where they was cuttln down oats with one o' them blndln' machines, ma-chines, and 'Lias asked me to go back to the barn and ask Uncle Matt it he bad a left-handed monkey-wrench. How was I to know? I ain't up on monkey-wrenches. Gee, I went drill In way back to the barn through the hot sun, and when I sprung the left-handed left-handed monkey-wrench on the uncle It made a horrible bit with him. Be hollered around till I got kind o' sore. Then he went In the house and told them and they all bad a fit about It But you ought o' seen 'Lias when he come In at night He was all I swelled up over the way he put It over me. He thought he was a better bet-ter cemedlan than Leon ErraL He must a' gone for two miles all around tellln' that monkey-wrench story, and a lot o' the hands used to come over V ffp ( "That Fresh Cousin Grabbed Me by the Leg and Pulled Me Out" days down-on-the-f arm business on nie. I've been next, I'll tell you those." "I dldnt know that you were ever on a farm," said Miller, laughing. "I waa there once, all right, and I got It throwed Into me so bard I was good and sore, too. Four years ago this summer that was before my father .died my uncle Matt, that's got a farm a little ways from Gales-burg, Gales-burg, wrote for me to come down and visit 'em. The old gentleman asked nie If I wanted to go, and I said, 'Sure thing.' I'd been readln' them con story books about plckln' flowers u nd goto' Hshln' and dubbin' around , the woods out In the country, and I thinks to myself: This Is a cinch. I'll go down there and dazzle them lays So I went down there, and cousin c' mine, Spencer Blanchard, mel me m l he train with a fllv and and josh me. They'd laugh and slap their legs and say, 'By Jlngl They bad me goto'. I used to think It wasn't fair to string a man because be was from the tall grass, but don't you fool yourself them country people won't do a thing to a city guy If they ever get him out where they can take a good, fair crack at him. Ton sure can't trust 'em." "it was all In fun, though, wasn't itr asked Miller. "Oh, sure; they thought they was glvln' me a good time. There was a kid cousin o' mine, William Jennings Bryan Blanchard wouldn't that name frost you? that Jollied me Into rid In' bareback on one o' the old pelters they bad around the place. I was up ln the ulr most o' the time, and after I got through rldin' mebbe you think I wasn't sore! This same kid took me down to the crick to go swlramln'. I burned the skin off o' my back, got a peach of a stone bruise on my foot, and while I was In, 'Lias and Spencer ' come over and tied my clothea In hard knots. That's Just a sample. Oh, I had a nice time! After a day or two I shook my town clothes and made up for a farmer but I couldn't play the part. They used to make me try to hitch up the team without anyone any-one helpln', and then they'd all stand around and razs me when I made bad breaks. I guess they had more fun around the .place while I waa there than they ever had before. I stood It for about ten days, helpln' 'em work In the fields, gettln' all tanned up and roundln' In to supper every night smellln' like a steam laundry, and then I kind o' figured It out that farm life was too swift for ma I kind o' wanted to see the 'lectric lights and the tall houses again. So I said I was goln'. They made an awful kick for me to stay. They knew they hnd a good thing. But I up and broke 1 amnvn . drove me out I got there In time for supper, and they all give me the glad hand and Jollied me up, and I kind 0 thought that first night that I'd be a warm proposition. About the time they got the dishes washed up the uncle says to me, 'I guess we'd better turn in.' 'What do you meiinr I snysj 'go to bed?" 'Sure - thing,! snys he. 'We got' to get all kinds of an early start In the morning.' morn-ing.' I couldn't stand for that 1 put up a holler right at the Jump. I told 'em I was Just usually beglnnln to enjoy myself about nine o'clock In the evening. They said I could set up If I wanted to, and then they ducked and turned In. Well, I didn't want to turn In, but there was nothln' to keep me up. I set out by Hie pump for a little while smokin' nnd llstenln' to them katydids gettln' In their work, and then I went In the house and went to bed, but I couldn't get to sleep before midnight It seemed to me I'd been poundln" my ear about ten minutes when some- 1 ' j t - - body walloped me In the back and hollared, 'fief up I' Well. I set up In bed, and-honest, Miller, this ain't no kid-It was dark outside. 'What's the trouble?' 1 says. 'Is the house on fire?' It was my cousin Spencer that give me the Jolt In the back. 'It's time to get op.' he says. I asked him what time It was aud what do yon "Then you're not fond of the coun try?" It's this way. I wouldn't mind goln' out for a while tf I could play myself off as company, but when It comes to beln' one of the good old family no, brother, and once again I say not" l(Q bj George Ade.) |