the old gentleman's nerves.

"Yes, sir," he continued, shoving a 'possum-colored lock back from his
brow, "as I suffers through one of them calamities miscalled
cel'brations, endoorin' the slang-whangin' of the orators an' bracin'
myse'f ag'inst the slam-bangin' of the guns, to say nothin' of the
firecrackers an' kindred Chinese contraptions, I a'preeciates the
feelin's of that Horace Walpole person Colonel Sterett quotes in his
_Daily Coyote_ as sayin', 'I could love my country, if it ain't for my
countrymen.'

"Still, comin' down to the turn, I reckon it merely means, when all is
in, that I'm gettin' too plumb old for comfort. It's five years now
since I dare look in the glass, for fear I'd be tempted to count the
annyooal wrinkles on my horns.

"It's mighty queer about folks. Speakin' of cel'brations, for
thousands of years the only way folks has of expressin' any feelin' of
commoonal joy, that a-way, is to cut loose in limitless an' onmeanin'
uproar. Also, their only notion of a public fest'val is for one half
of the outfit to prance down the middle of the street, while the other
half banks itse'f ag'inst the ediotic curb an' looks at 'em.

"People in the herd ain't got no intelligence. We speaks of the lower
anamiles as though we just has it on 'em completely in the matter of
intelligence, but for myse'f I ain't so shore. The biggest fool of a
mule-eared deer savvys enough to go feedin' up the wind, makin' so to
speak a skirmish line of its nose to feel out ambushes. Any old bull
elk possesses s'fficient wisdom to walk in a half-mile circle, as a
concloodin' act before reetirin' for the night, so that with him
asleep in the center, even if the wind does shift, his nose'll still
get ample notice of whatever man or wolf may take to followin' his
trail.

"That's what them 'lower anamiles' does. An' now I asks, what man,
goin' about his numbskull dest'nies, lookin' as plumb wise as a
too-whoo owl at noon, ever shows gumption equal to keepin' the
constant wind in his face, or has the sense to go walkin' round
himse'f as he rolls into his blankets, same as that proodent elk?
After all, I takes it that these yere Fo'th of Jooly upheavals is only
one among the ten thousand fashions in which hoomanity eternally
onbuckles in expressin' its imbecil'ty.

"Which I certainly do get a heap disgusted at times with the wild
beast called man. With all his bluffs about bein' so mighty sagacious,
I can sit yere an' see that, s