Rensselaer Republican, Volume 19, Number 34, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 28 April 1887 — A LIE WHICH BECAME FAMOUS. [ARTICLE]

A LIE WHICH BECAME FAMOUS.

Origin of the Baying:'‘And It Wasn't a Good Day for Ducks,- Either.” In 1860, the year before the war, a party of Northern Illinois hunters hied themselves to the lakes of Minnesota for ah annual duck hunt of a few weeks, says the St. Louis Globc-Demorrat, making the journey to St. Paul, which was at that time but little more than a frontier village, by a steamer from Dubuque, lowa. Among the party was a chap named Truax, a proverbial liar, but a jolly, good-natured fellow withal, Whose predominant weakness was readily excused, if not entirely overlooked, Iby those who knew him well. Abe, that being his first name, seemed to struggle more recklessly and naturally with tiie truth when talking about his prowess as a hunter of game than on any other subject. One afternoon, as the steamer was plowing its way through Lake Pepin, a number of the male passengers were seated forward on the boiler deck in little knots, passing the time away in conversation. Abe was a prominent figure in one of the groups, and had already astonished himself fairly by the whoppers he had successfully got of, when the subject of duck hunting, the mission which himself and friends were out on, was advertised. “I’ve shot a few ducks in my time,” broke in Abe* during a momentary lull in the talk. “How many did you ever kill in one day?” queried a crosseyed passenger from down about Burlington. “You may not believe me, sir,” replied Truax, “but in the late fall of ’57 I went out alone one morning about seven miles, with my dog and gun, and brought home 200 ducks bv actual count, and it wasn’t a very good day for ducks, either!” “You did that all alone, and in one trip?” asked the cross-eyed man as he put down some figures on an envelope with a pencil he had carelessly taken from his vest pocket. “Yes, sir, I did,” said Truax, with a tinge of ill-humor to his tone. “Those ducks would weigh about two and a half pounds apiece, wouldn’t they?” casually remarked the Burlington man, as he kept on making characters with his pencil. “I should say they would,” remarked the unsuspecting Abe. “Well, then,” said the persistent querist, “you killed just 650 pounds of ducks; and if you can tell me how one man is able to lug that weight seven miles, and carry a gun at the same time, you can do something that no other bar in the Northwest can match.” Abe reflected a minute; and with “That’s a whopper, isn’t it, gentlemen ?’’ he invited the whole party in to the bar to take something at his expense. The remark “And it wasn’t a good day for ducks, either,” was used banterjngly on Truax during the remainder of the trip, and in time it became common oa the Mississippi, whence it spread until it became one of the proverbial Americanisms of the times.