"Well, de next mawnin' he had his black horse saddled, an' I held the
stirrup for him to git on, an' he rode ober to de Barbour plantation,
an' didn't come back till plumb black night. When he come up I held de
lantern so I could see his face, for I wa'n't easy in my mine all day.
But it was all bright an' shinin' same as a' angel's.
"'Chad,' he says, handin' me de reins, 'I bought yo' Henny dis arternoon
from Colonel Barbour, an' she's comin' ober to-morrow, an' you can bofe
git married next Sunday.'"
UNCONSCIOUS HUMOR
BY J.K. WETHERILL
Perhaps unconscious humor does not appeal to the more amiable side of
our sense of mirth, for it excites in us a conceited feeling of
superiority over those who are making us laugh,--but its unexpectedness
and infinite variety render it irresistible to a certain class of minds.
The duly labeled "joke" follows a certain law and rule; whereas no
jester could invent the _grotesqueries_ of the unconscious humorist.
As a humble gleaner after the editorial scythe,--or, to be truly modern,
I should say mowing-machine,--I have gathered some strange sheaves of
this sort of humor.
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