“A other time Mister Jonnice was attacted by a lion which came a rushin at him with its mouth wide open and all its teeths on parade. Mister Jonnice he just stood still and lifted his wood leg up and stuck it strait out toward the lion, and the lion went on every side of it like a bottle around a cork. So the immoral spirit of that monark of the desert winged its way to a other and bitter world fourth with. Mister Jonnice says that was the first step in his honable career as a lion tamer. I guess the second is still to be took. “Such, my boy, is Mister Jonnice, but the jasky foozle is a other animal. It inhabbits the crags of the Gangee river and its fluty warble is heard along with the song of the whipperwil when the natf niggers pay poker in the gloaming. Its one tooth is white as the soul of a unborn babe and the shine of its eye is like moon beams on the water of deep Galalee. When it arises its golden locks above the horizon a lovely shadow is flung athwort the land and the chickens go to roost a singing their sweetest songs. It is a six legger, and each leg has a brass hoof, so the sound of its feetsteps is like chimes of church bells on a Sabath morning in Normandy. But beware, Johnny, beware the jasky foozle when summer is green, for it is crueler than the butcher buisnes and pizen as the grave! When it points its nose your way your mother wants to see you mighty bad and your legs should be ship shape for to perform their office. “Much more might be said, but I see old Gaffer Peters a comin over to have a smoke with me, and I guess I better go out behind the barn and plant some coco nuts.” I guess if there was a fight tween the jasky foozle and the rhi nupple dinky and some others of them fellers which Uncle Ned and Jack Brily and Mister Gipple tells about it would be mighty hard for to say which was which, and a picture of one would do for them all. One day Mister Pitchel, thats the preacher, he seen a picture which shocked him, cause it repsented a drunk man, but my father he said: “Well, dont men get drunk, what you growlin about?” Mister Pitchel he said did my father aproove every thing in art which is true to nature, and my father he said: “Mister Pitchel, you have knew me all my life for a onest man which pays his debts and votes the straight Repubcan ticket, like he is told, and loves his neibor as his dog, and wears a stopipe hat quite frequent. Yet you ask me sech a question as that! As I under stand it, the feller which is always objectin to naturlness in art is always a sweepin the horizen with a spy glass and a bendin his self doubble over a microscape for to find some thing to objeck to. He wants to snuffle or to blush, cause if he dont he will be sick.” Uncle Ned, which is a batchelor, he said he guessed folks like that was mostly women.