Clipped From The Courier-Journal
ALLAN M. TROUT. Flash! Bulletin! Stop the presses, boys, and make room for the most remarkable true story I ever read, as follows: "When I was a boy living at West Point, Ky.," writes T. E. Jenkins of Lexington, "I had a pal by the name of Ed Laswell. Ed had an uncle living on Salt River in Bullitt County. One spring Ed's uncle brought us boys two young ground hogs about the size of large rats. "We tamed and trained them to do such stunts as jump through hoops, stand up to be fed and roll over and play dead. "We made little suits for them, with pants and coats, out of cottonade. They wore these suits, without much discomfort. They would sit up to a little table, eat, then walk for a short distance on their hind legs. All this was very amusing indeed. "They lived around the barn at Ed"s house and slept in a box stall in the barn. That fall they disappeared. Winter came and, for the time being, we forgot about them. "On Christmas Eve morning the main chimney at Ed's house sank about two feet, tearing the floors and plastering as it went. There was consternation in West Point because nobody could account for It. "Nothing else happened until New Year's Day, when one corner of the kitchen caved in. The chairs and table all piled down in the corner. This, like the chimney, went the rounds of speculation, speculation, but no solution was reached. The necessary repairs were made. "The little town of West Point was startled again toward the last of January when the entire side of Mr. Laswell's house fell in. "Came February 2 and our two ground hogs emerged from a hole in the barn and played around in the yard. They had lost their coats, but retained the pants. The waistbands had cut in to their stomachs, stomachs, making a wrinkle around their middle parts. They almost had overgrown the wrinkle, however, as they were nearly full grown ground hogs by that time. They presented a funny spectacle in their cottonade britches so tight around the waist. "We kept them all summer and guarded them against Mr. Laswell. He wanted to kill them for ruining his house. Wc finally sold them to a showman for $10 each, upon his promise to be good to them. "If Ed Laswell or a boy named Bud Carlisle are still living, they can verify this story. I would like for them to write me at 1384 Fontaine Road, Lexington, Ky." Friends, if any of you know Ed Laswell and Bud Carlisle, please show them this valued communication from their boyhood boyhood playmate at West Point.