THE MAN WITH THE FLAIL.

Dunstan Times, Issue 1053, 23 June 1882, Page 3

THE MAN WITH THE FLAIL.

It carried the beholder back to 30 years ago, when the threshing machine was only heard at rare intervals, and the honest farmer spread his colden stalks on the ob an barn floor and flailed away with such tem pered blows that not a kernel was broken. The man who had it sat down on one of the benches in the West Circus Park. The rare sight of such an article halted every pedestrian, and the man had to keep explaining over and over : “ Well, I’ll have some beans to shell this fall, and I kinder thought ’twonld be easier to flail ’em ( out. The hardwaie man told me he had to send to Vermont for it.”

Pretty soon along came a grey headed alderman, and when he saw that flail he looked t»n years younger all at once, “I hmdled that for ten years,” he said as he picked it up and spit on his hands. “ Seems like old times to got hold of this hickory again.”

He stepped out one side to give tho crowd an exhibition on the grass, and his success was great. At the second blow the flail end hesi'ated in mid air, wobbled about, and finally came down with a whack upon the patriot’s head, making him see more stars than a winter’s night ever brought out. Ke dropped the weapon with the remark that he was already ten minutes late in keepingj m appointment, and he was rubbing his skull as far down the street as he could be seen. The next, man to try it was one who got off a passing car under the idea that, a dog fight was in progress.” “A flail? Ha! ha! Why I haven’t seen aflail since I was married,” he chuckled as he reached for it. “ I presume I have flailed a thousand bushels of wheat in my time. You hoys stand back there.” The boys retreated, and the man lifted the flail on high and patted the grass in a vigorous manner. “Yes, my stint used to be 20 bushels a day,” he continued, “and though 1 do say it myself, I ” Something happended. He dropped the flail, seized his jaw. and danced off as if he had springs under him. and although a dozen voices asked what hit him he refused to tell.

By-aml-hy a third man came sailing ahniL'. ami when lie saw the flail he remarke 1 that Ills father hail used one like it nearly all his life, and was called the smartest tiailor in New Hampshire. Can’t you use it inquired one of the crowd.

“ Why, of course. If you hoys want to ace how our fathers got jtheir wheat to mill I’ll give you a little exhibition. Here, Bub, hold my hat.”

He buttoned his coat, moistened his hands, and began work. The first Wow nearly broke a man’s knee ; the second cracked against a boy’s elbow ; and at the third the flailer grabbed the top of his head and sat down with a subdued look in the corners of his mouth.

“Well, I guess I’ll he jogging along,” said the owner of the flail as he rose up. “ It’s all getting the kink of it. A fellow who makes twists and wohbless a special study won’t get his head broke over twice a day, but a green hand might as well sit down under a brick-kiln durin’ tornader. Day, gentlemen.”