You've heard a lot of pratin' and prattlin' about this bein' the age of specialization. There is specialists in every line, and I'm a specialist in mine. I seen the need for her. I steddied her, I got her. She's mine. Gentlemen, you're face to face with the champion two-hole and baby seat privvy builder of Sangamon County, Ill.

Luke Harkins was my first customer. He calls me up and says, "Elmer, I wish you'd come out here-- I'm havin' privvy trouble."

So I gets into the car and drives out to Luke's place, and I took up my position right near a clump of Baldwins where I could get a good view of the situation.

It was right in the middle of hayin' time, and them hands was comin' in and staying anywheres from forty minutes to an hour and a half.

I says: "Luke, you sure have got privvy trouble." So I takes out my kit of tools and goes to examine her.

First, I looks at the catalogue, thinking it might be that, but it wasn't even from a reckonized house. Then I look at the seat proper, and I see what the trouble was. They was too durn comfortable. So I gets out my scroll saw, and cuts 'em square with hard edges. then I go back and take up my position as before-- me here, the Baldwins here, and the privvy there. And I watched for nearly two hours.

This time the hands was comin' in and not one of them was staying more than four minutes.

"Luke," I says, "I solved her-- that's what comes from bein' a specialist."

Twarn't long after that Lem Ridgway comes to me and he says: "Elmer," he says, "I seen that eight hole job you done down there at Tricks Corner and she sure was a dandy, and figerin' as how I am agoin' to build on the old Satterwaite property, I thought I'd ask you to do a kind of estimate on a job for me."

"You come to the right man, Lem" I says, "you sure did. I'll be out as soon as I get the roof put on the two-seater I'm puttin' up for the Sherriff."

Couple of days later I gets into the car and drives out to Lem's place, gettin' there about dinner time. I knocks a couple of times on the door and then I see that they got a lot of folks to dinner and not wantin' to disturb them, I sneak around to the side door and yell up the stair, "Lem! Where in hell you want that privvy put?"

Lem comes out and we get a talkin' about a location for her. He was all for puttin' her right along side a jagged path runnin' by a big Northern Spy.

"I wouldn't do it, Lem," I says, "and I'll tell you why. In the first place, her bein' near a tree is bad. There is no sound in nature so disconcertin' as the sound of apples droppin' on the roof. Don't do your work a mite of good. Then, another thing, there's a crooked path runnin' by that tree and the soil there ain't adapted to absorbin' moisture. During the rainy season, she is likely to be slippery and you take your grandpappy-- he'll go out there some rainy night with his nightie flappin' around his legs and like as not, when you come out in the mornin you'll find him prone in the mud, or maybe skidded off one of them curves and wound up in the corn crib." "No, sir," I says, "put her in a straight line with the house, and if it's all the same to you, haver her go past the woodpile. I'll tell you why.

"Take the women folks. You know how skittish they are. Forty times a day mabbe they start out, then change their mind and on the way back it's just as natural as not for 'em to pick up a stick of wood, and if it's a good day, you'll have your woodpile filled before noon. No, sir, you can't make no mistake puttin' her in a straight line. I'm a specialist, and I know.

"Now about the diggin' of her. You can't be too careful about that," I says. "Dig her deep and dig her wide every time. It's amighty site better to have a little privy over a big hole than have a big privy over a little hole. Another thing, when you dig her deep you've got her dug forever. You ain't got that disconcertin' thought stealin' over you that sooner or later you'll have to dig again. Thoughts like them don't do your work a mite of good, Lem. I'm a specialist and I know.

"Now about her contruction--I can give you joists or beams. Joists make a good job, but beams coast a little more and they're worth it. Beams, you might say, will last forever. Coures I could give you joists, , but take your Aunt Emmy. She ain't gettin' a mite lighter. Some day she might be out there when ther joists give way and there she'd be-- catched. Another thing, you got to figure on in the fall, is the Odd Fellows picnic. Them boys is goin' to get in there in fours and sixes, singin' and drinkin' and the like, and I want to tell you Lem, theer's nothing that breaks up an Odd Fellows picnic quicker than a diggin' party. Beams, I say, every time, and rest secure.

"Now about the roof-- I can give you a lean-to roof or a pitch roof. Pitch roofs cost a little more but some of our best people have lean-to's. If it was for myself, I'd have a lean-to, and I'll tell you why.

"A lean-to has two less corners for the wasps to build their nests, and on a hot August afternoon there ain't nothin' so disconcertin ' as a lot of wasps buzzin' around while you're runnin' through a furniture section. Another thing, a lean-to gives you a high door. Take that son of yours, shootin' up like a weed, don't any of him seem to be turnin' under. If he was tryin' to get under a pitch roof door, his head would look like a Hubbard squash before huskin' time. Take a lean-to, Lem. They ain't stylish but they's practical.

"Now about her furnishing-- I can give you a box for cobs and a nail for the catalogue. If it was me, I'd take the nail. If you don't like her by the time you've gotten into the harness section, I'll be glad to put in the box for you.

"As to a door for her, I can give you a spool and string, or a hook and eye. The cost of the spool and string is practically nothin', but they ain't positive in action. If sombody comes out and starts rattlin' the door, either the spool or string is apt to give way, and there you are. Whereas, with a hook and eye, the privy is yours, you might say, for the whole afternoon if you're so minded.

"Maybe you want windows-- some do, some don't. they ain't so popular as they used to be. If it was me, Lem, I'd say no windows, and I'll tell you why. Take, for instance, somebody coming out-- maybe they're just in a hurry, or maybe they've waited too long-- if the door don't open right away and you don't answer them, nine times out of ten they'll go Democratic on you and run around and look in the window. Things like that don't help your work a mite, Lem, I'll tell you.

"Now about her ventilators-- I can give you stars or crescents. There ain't much to choose from-- both give you good service. A lot of people like stars because they throw a ragged shadow. Others like crescents because they're simple. Last year we was cuttin' a lot of stars, but this year people is runnin' just a mite towards crescents.

"Now about the paintin' of her--don't make her too artistic. Paint her a bright huey. There's no matter how dark the night, she's visible. A lot of people say a bright huey is bizzarey, but I say, bizzarey and be damned, paint her a bright huey."

Well, months passed, and I put her up for him, and everybody in the county says that next to my eight hole job it's one of the finest pieces of construction they ever see'd. Maybe they're right.

Sometimes when I get to feelin' blue, and get to thinkin' I hitched my wagon to the wrong star and that maybe I should have took up chiropracty or vet'rinary, I just pack the little woman and kiddies into the back of my Buick and start aiming to fetch up with Lem's place just about dusk.

I get to the top of that hill, put the gear lever in mutual and pull the emergency brake back and just set there a-watching round Mr. Sun bathin' that buildin' in a burst of yellow color, and I heaves a big sigh and I says to myself, "Elmer you've got a privvy."