“Madam,” interrupted the census man, “if you could just give me the number—­”

“Number!” she exclaimed, indignantly.  “I want you to understand that we ain’t got to numberin’ ’em yet.  We ain’t run out o’ names!”

The census man when taking the census in a certain Canadian town asked of the head of the family the usual questions, one being, “How many children have you?”

The man answered, “Oh, I don’t know, ten, twelve, fourteen or so.  I know a barrel of flour lasts pretty damn quick.”

See also Bluffing.

FARMING

“It used to be said that anybody could farm—­that about all that was required was a strong back and a weak mind,” mused the gaunt Missourian.  “But now’-days, to be a successful farmer a feller must have a good head and a wide education in order to understand the advice ladled out to him from all sides by city men and to select for use that which will do him the least damage.”

PROFESSOR AT AGRICULTURAL SCHOOL—­“What kinds of farming are there?”

NEW STUDENT—­“Extensive, intensive, and pretensive.”

They were having an argument as to whether it was correct to say of a hen she is “setting” or “sitting,” and, not being able to arrive at a satisfactory conclusion, they decided to submit the problem to Farmer Giles.

“My friends,” said he, “that don’t interest me at all.  What I wants to know when I hear a hen cackle is whether she be laying or lying.”

“How many head o’ live stock you got on the place?”

“Live stock?” echoed the somewhat puzzled farmer.  “What d’ ye mean by live stock?  I got four steam-tractors and sevenautomobiles.”—­Judge.

The city youth secured a job with Farmer Jones.  The morning after his arrival, promptly at 4 o’clock, the farmer rapped on his door and told him to get up.  The youth protested.

“What for?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.

“Why, we’re going to cut oats,” replied the farmer.

“Are they wild oats,” queried the youth, “that you’ve got to sneak up on ’em in the dark?”

“Aren’t you afraid America will become isolated?”

“Not if us farmers keep raisin’ things the world needs,” answered Farmer Corntossel, “The feller that rings the dinner-bell never runs much risk of bein’ lonesome.”

“How’d that city hired man of yours pan out?”

“Well, he started in Monday morning plowing corn.  At 10 o’clock he struck for a helper to lift the gangs out at the ends, and I sent the kid out to do that.  At noon he struck for two pieces of strawberry shortcake instead of one, so I gave him my piece.  At 1:15 he struck for a sunshade on the corn plow.  I says, ’Young man, this job is just like a baseball game.  Three strikes and you’re out, Good-bye.’”

A rather patronizing individual from town was observing with considerable interest the operations of a farmer with whom he had put up for a while.