Democratic Sentinel, Volume 7, Number 4, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 February 1883 — Landlord Tim. [ARTICLE]

Landlord Tim.

I We possessed a landlord once in our I pleasant little Canadian village, and the said landlord was witty and harmless, but was an inveterate “exaggerator.” Stranger or friend wero pleasantly entertained of an evening by listening to his impossible, though truthfully told, yarns, aud many a guest felt he received his money’s worth of combustible chin, besides his board thrown in. He would tell about feeding bushels of corn to a wild goose that daily visited his father’s “lower farm,” and at last, shooting it with a rifle, found half of the bullet on either side, split by the breast-bone. Beautifully would he relate his favorite, a pigeon yarn. Noticing hundreds of this game in a tree one day, and having only a rifle he was sorely perplexed as to the best means of making a fruitful discharge. Brains brought into requisition so plentifully his head ached,* quickly set him clear. Choosing the fullest limb, he fired, splitting it and the bullet passed through the limb, their toes dropped in and held them fast. While sawing off the limb it suddenly broke and let pigeons pud all into a stream below. When he reached the shore again ho had ninety-seven pigeons in his hand al l a peck of small fish in his boots. “Tim,” said Henderson, a new comer, one night after Tim had finished his imaginative triumph, “Tim, I shot at some pigeons years ago; I had as good a double-barreled gun as was ever made, and I saw clouds of pigeons on the ground not more than twenty-five yards away. I let go both barrels at the same time, and how many do you suppose I killed?” “Did you say you had a shot-gun?” inquired Tim. “Yes, sir, double-barreled and a good one.” “Oh*! don’t know,” said Tim, thoughtfully; “say 200.” “No, sir,” said Henderson, with an pir of satisfied expectancy, “no, sir, not a single one!”— Detroit Free Press.