﻿Ready Market 
By T-BONE SLIM

In an unguarded moment a young lad had succeeded in unearthing [missing] considerable spuds and having [missing] up more than he could use (doctor’s orders) he proceeded to put the [missing]ance on the market.  
With this praiseworthy object, [missing] view, he approached a bunch of [missing]ored gentlemen and revealed to them the nature of His errand.  
They laughed at him. 
“Why, white boy, I can’t buy [missing] ‘taters; I’ve got only one cent in my pocket.” 
(Deadly silence). 
“You sure need spuds;” sympathized the young business man. 

he U. S. reservations in [missing] of Nations “deal” were found [missing] factory save No. 5 —of that [missing] doubt. That provides that the [missing] shall not render an “advisory” [missing]ion on any subject in which [missing] has of claims an interest [missing] without consent of the U. S.? 
I’m dumb, I am! 
Why prohibit advisory opinions?  
Up to date, in jungle press, Spain wasn’t given a permanent berth is the League of Nations bed––[every] time someone comes in, Hisp[anians] will have to “get up” and sleep “standing” or crawl in under the bed.  

Am reliably informed that: A woman ran after us yipping at the top of her voice and bottom of her lung.  
“A woman in distress;” we thought and returned to the succor––rescue I mean.  
“My husband has hurt himself,” she moaned; “he’s in the barn.” 
We hot-footed into the barn and and ran plumb into the man gently swaying at the end of a rope. 
“I guess he’s injured beyond [re]pair,” says my partner.  
“Take him down,” says the [missing]. 
“Can’t be done without [orders] from the coroner,” opines I.  
“Take him down,” phones the coroner. 
“Cut him down,” says I, offering my jack-knife. 
“What! Not by a damnsite,” [says] my partner, “we’ll have to untie the knot––it’s a brand new line––[some]one else may want to use it! 
I agreed with him and helped [him] to turn the suicide loose.––The [lady] thanked us kindly and told us to call again (must be figuring on getting married). And so we went [our] way rejoicing. The discovery of sow-thistle on his land was the cause of his premature death. 

Threshing hands shaking as [they] arise from the hay is not concl[usive] proof of chill––they may be shak[ing] off fox-tail or chaff.  
And indeed, it’s a conserva[tion] and general opinion of bundle [press]ers, in loft assembled, that [with] slight chills and minor freeze-[missing] perform a real, genuine and en[dear]ing service to menkind––insofar [as] it is claimed, hell holds no terr[ors] for them, as they say “it will [take] at least ten years for them to [missing] out––and, by that time, they cl[aim] they can blarney the devil into [missing]ing suitable concessions in the [missing]est of comfort.