Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 166: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

WG att Ne ma, ‘itthe,, ii tiny Hittite ht By THOMAS : = FEW years ago a pencil pounder eee named Rudyard Kipling grabbed a sheet of the king’s bond and - dashed off the following gem: A trout is only a trout—but a good cigar “is a smoke! _Ask brother-in-law Joseph about that! Ever since I been wed to his charming sister—a year and a half, according to her, but ten years if you ask me—her clown brother has been kind enough to tell us how to live, learn, love, grunt, groan, howl, cry, or what have you? Well, as the old oaken bucket remarked, one evening around supper time this dizzy boob relative comes dashing into our love- nest with a bright idea buzzing around what passes for his as | _“ Hello, sister,” he greets, taking his fa- 7, “4 THURSDAY vorite seat at the table. ‘‘ Ha!” he sniffs. ‘ Flounders, hey? Well, well, welli—not so bad, but—er—when it comes to fish, you should ought to buy some speckled trout. Rippling brooks, what a tasty mouthful they are! Say, when me and Mike Mc- Goldburg went angling up in the Adiron- dacks last year, we had a mess of trout for every meal. Bill, you ought to try your luck at the sport.” ‘ Blaah!” I says, polite. ‘ You never caught anything but pneumonia. Trout, ehe Don’t make me laugh. I bet the only time you ever got any trout was when you went fishing in Ike Mahoney’s South Sea Fish Store.” . “ Brother Joseph is an excellent fisher- man,” puts in my helpmate. ‘‘ Anyway, I fail to see why we can’t all have a little spring vacation.” “Fine!” I agree. ‘But, listen, honey 476 - e | | Ean Deonercon=