An old woman in the West Virginia hills received a letter from her grandneice, who'd gone off to the big city to seek her fortune. Puzzled by the writing and the contents, she read to her husband, 'Judi says here that she's got her- self a job in a . . . a . . . a . . . well, it must be a *message* parlor.'

'I reckon city folks must leave word there fer their neighbors and kinfolk. Them not having back fences and all,' her husband said. 'Does Judi say how much they's a payin' her?'

'Well, that's the part I can't make out. For the life of me, Paw, she says she gets some $35 for a hand delivered message and $60 if she *blows* it to them!'