I guess he didn't belong to anybody
before. And another wagon has a chair on it, and in that chair the
cutest little girl you almost eyer saw, hair all frizzed at the ends,
and a wide blue sash and her white frock starched as stiff as a
milk-pail. Everybody says: "Aw, ain't she just too sweet ?"
The Caledonias have tried to make quite a splurge this year. They
walk four abreast, with their arms locked, and their white gloves on
each other's shoulders. Their truck has on it what they call "an
allegorical figure." There is a kind of a business (looks to me
like it is the axle and wheels of a toy wagon, stood up on end and
covered with white paper muslin and a string tied around the middle)
that is supposed to be an hour-glass. Then there is a scythe covered
with cotton batting, and then a man in a bath-robe (I saw the figure
of the goods when the wind blew it open) also covered with white
cotton batting. The man has a wig and beard of wicking. First, I
thought it was Santa Claus, and then I saw the scythe and knew it
must be old Father Time. The hour-glass puzzled me no little though.
The man has cotton batting wings. One of them is a little wabbly,
but what can you expect from Caledonia? They're always trying to
butt the bull off the bridge. They're jealous of our town.
Pages:
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133