Soup At Bakerton; Welsh Scares Hen Theives

Soup at Bakerton.

A person coming into Bakerton last Saturday night would have been reminded of war times and camp-fire, for there was an old-time chicken soup, given at Moler’s store. The way those fat hens boiled was enough to make one’s mouth water. Mr. Rank Geary, chief cook, started the soup at 4 o’clock, and let it be said Mr. Geary knows how to get up a soup to perfection. While the soup was cooking, music was furnished by Messrs. Hill, Moler and Kidwiler. Mr. Hill’s voice has not weakened at all, and the way he sang “I Got Mine” brought forth much applause from the crowded house. Mr. M. R. S. Moler, manager of the store, had his hands full looking after the wants of the many who were present. At 10 o’clock Mr. McGeary announced to the crowd that the soup was done, and, oh, my! how the boys did flock to those kettles, for the odor was enough to make one hungry. Crackers and pickles were furnished to all. There were about 60 who enjoyed the feast, as all he boys had all the good rich soup they wanted. At 11.30 the boys wended their way homeward, being much larger around the waist than when they came. When we smile at Percy Hill’s singing, it reminds us of the night before. Of course, all the chickens in the soup were given, but some of the boys went out Friday night to see who had the largest hens. Well, the first place they struck was Mr. T. B. Welsh’s. Now, Mr. Welsh is a watchful kind of a fellow. Being an Irishman, it comes natural for him to look after his belongings, and when the boys approached very quietly he opened up with his rapid fire gun. Of course, the boys took to their heels. There was one fellow– well, we will call him “Moony,” for we don’t like to be personal– they way that young fellow got away from that hen roost– why, the professional runner from Hagerstown that was at the Fair could not have kept in sight of him. In getting away, he was heard to say, “I’ll bet if I had a gun, Tom Welsh would not know which leg he was crippled in.” SOUP.