Riley’s Rye Patch

Whitcomb Riley was looking over a fence on his farm at a field of rye, when a neighbor who was driving by stopped his horse and asked:

“Hullo, Mr. Riley, how’s your rye doing?”

“Fine, fine,” replied the poet.

“How much do you expect to clear to the acre?”

“Oh, about four gallons,” answered Mr. Riley, soberly.—Success.