The Manitowoc Pilot

Manitowoc Pilot.
THURSDAY, JUNE 9, 1881.

OLD INHABITANTS ON THE WEATHER.

"Some folks seem to think this is warm weather," observed old Daddy Wotherspoon to old Uncle Linkinbotham, as the two old inhabitants stood, last Thursday, before a thermometer that registered ninety in the shade. "'Pears to me 'twas worse than this in the May of 'twenty-eight, wasn't it?"

"A heap worse," assented old Uncle Linkinbotham; "but that wasn't as bad as the May of 'twenty-two. You remember how the tin roofs melted and run off the houses, and we had to carry wrought steel umbrellas through the streets?"

" 'Deed I do," rejoined old Daddy Wotherspoon, mopping his visage with some anxiety. "I was out hunting that Spring, and we had to carry our powder in buckets of water to keep it from going off prematurely. Wasn't that the spring the hams fried on live hogs the bills melted off the snow birds?"

"The same spring," said old Uncle Linkinbotham. "I know I was off fishing in Long Island Sound, and the heat generated the water into steam so as to blow our boat clear over into the woods. That month was pretty warm, for I recollect how the forests out back of East New York melted down, and I had a stream of liquid kindlings running right through my farm. One of my boys took a swig of it one day by mistake, and when he died in the fall, we found him chock full of splinters. Killed him."

"Yes, yes," murmured old Daddy Wotherspoon, streaming at every pore. "We used to hang meat and vegetables down my well, and they were cooked in ten minutes by the watch," and the ancient gentleman regarded his antagonist with some triumph.

"We tried that," said old Uncle Linkinbotham, "but the heat melted the wires the grub was hung on and the works of the clock run all over the floor, so we couldn't tell how long it did take to cook and we used ice water to do our biling with."

"Where'd you get your ice?" demanded old Daddy Wotherspoon, tying a handkerchief around his head to keep his ears warm.

"We just poured water on the fire and the fire was so much cooler than the atmosphere that the water froze in ten minutes. That's how we got so much ice. Don't you want to go and drink something to warm you up?"

"If we can get a little good old brandy, I'd like it," replied old Daddy Wotherspoon, with pale lips and clenched fists. "I'll take some proof brandy."

"Come along, then," retorted old Uncle Linkinbotham, contemptuously. "You may be able to stir your blood with that tipple, but this weather and the recollections of May, 'twenty-two, makes me want some hot, spiced rum and a fur overcoat. To-morrow I'm a going to put on extra flannels."

And the two old liars almost killed themselves that afternoon with hot drinks rather than admit that the Almighty could do things as well now as he did when they were boys.