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Updated: August 17, 2024
Elnora could not endure that. "There is!" she said gladly. "There is a little pigeon bird. I want a teeny piece of the breast, for a sort of keepsake, just one bite, and you can have the rest among you." Elnora drew the knife from its holder and cut off the wishbone. Then she held the bird toward the girl. "You can divide it," she said.
Some of us come from the breasts of chickens and some from the breasts of turkeys. When we are placed above a doorsill in a house, we bring good luck!" "Don't the people in the house here wish good luck?" asked the match box. "What a silly question!" replied the wishbone, "Anyone could easily see you do not know much!" "Then why didn't they place you above the door?" asked the stove lifter.
Donald ran up and down Wishbone Valley, calling upon them to stop, and declaring that if turkey should ever be put upon the table again he would eat nothing but the stuffing. When Donald found that the wishbones were sticking into his neck like so many hornet stings, he made up his mind that he would run for the house.
"Oh! there's plenty of sailors' snug harbors," he hastened to say. "And time enough to worry about that when I be old." "I thought Why! you look younger than Cap'n Abe," she said. "Ain't it a fact? He's let himself run to seed and get old lookin'. That's from stayin' ashore all his life. It's the feel of a heavin' deck under his feet that keeps the spring in a man's wishbone. Yes, sir!
Here's the wishbone, all white an' shinin', jest ez he throwed it down." "And down here is the spring where he picked the turkey after he heated it on the fire, and where he washed it," said Henry. "Paul was so hungry he never thought about hiding the feathers, and a lot of 'em are left, caught in the grass and bushes." "I don't blame Paul," said Long Jim, his gastronomic soul afire.
I'll meet you at Hinkley's at eight, cross my heart on a wishbone, Jimmie." "Cross it!" "There!" "To-night, Jimmie, I'm chilled all in. Look at me in these duds, Jimmie. I'm cold. Oh, Jimmie, get me a cab quick, please; I'm co-old!" She relaxed frankly into a chill that rumbled through her and jarred her knees together.
He gave the reins a twitch and began to climb through the dusk to the lighter hilltop, at a point just east of Cold Spring Coulee. At the top he put the spurs to his horse and headed straight as might be for the Wishbone ranch.
He who wishes finds his way to planning and to patient endeavor, IF training, circumstances and essential character meet. To wish much is the first step in acquiring much, but only the first step. For many it is almost the only step, and in the popular phrase these have a "wishbone in the place of a backbone."
"Well, I'll wish for you," he exclaimed. "Will you, really?" she asked. "Yes." "Well, then, there's no use fooling with the old wishbone," she interrupted, with a glad smile, "you can have me." In times past there was in a certain law school an aged and eccentric professor. "General information" was the old gentleman's hobby.
I sidled to the door, and slid forth. They didn't notice me. My experience is that nobody ever does much. Well-meaning chappies at the club sometimes amble up to me and tap me on the wishbone, and say "Reggie, old top," my name's Reggie Pepper "you ought to get married, old man."
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