An old story

Wed., May 20, 1936 - I went to Wayne in Ray's car this a.m.  Told Uncle Chris and Gerald about June 7.  Took my fair work to Miss Sewell.  Had my books signed by Mr. Mann.  This p.m. Mom and I went out to "the house" again and tore off more paper.
Thurs., May 21, 1936 - Annie Miller went along out to "the house" today to paper.  Finished the bedroom -- papered the ceiling and part of walls in living room.  Howard came here tonite and gave Mom and me a ride in the new V-8 the girls got Tuesday.
Fri., May 22, 1936 - Rained this a.m. after we got out here.  Finished papering this p.m.  Howard was here this afternoon and fixed some things in the house.

This has nothing to do with anything at all Grandma wrote, but I thought I'd share a Mol (aka Molbo) story.  I thought I had created a label for way back when I shared some, but it appears I did not.  So, without looking back at all 900+ posts, I do not know if I have already shared this particular story.  Bear with me.

I was cruising eBay one day several years ago for things related to Denmark and ended up buying a little book printed in 1967, "Old Stories From Denmark".  From the back of said book:

"Every country has its stories about simple folk like the traditional yokel, bumpkin and gawby of England or the hayseeds and hicks of America.  Sometimes the stories are generalised and told about simple people in any part of the country; but they often come to be identified with some small town or country district.  In Denmark the people of Mols were singled out for this dubious honour some two centuries ago, and they have had the good sense, which goes with humor-loving people to be proud of the old stories and they are nowhere more popular than in Mols itself."

It goes on to say that the first printed collection of these stories appeared early in the 1770's.  Seems some humor is funny regardless of the century.  Here's one story in particular that made me chuckle:

"A Molbo, wearing his best clothes for a visit to the market town, took to his homeward way having done just a little more than quench his thirst.

The hot sun had a strange effect upon him and he sat down to rest awhile; but he quickly fell fast asleep at the side of the narrow road.

A poor craftsman, on his way to another town in search of work, noticed the Molbo's fine, new stockings and he could not resist an exchange for his own, which were very dirty and had many holes.  He carefully exchanged stockings and went happily on his way.

Shortly afterwards, along came a man driving a horse and trap.  He pulled up when he saw the sleeping Molbo with his legs stretched out on the road, "Pull your legs in or I'll go over them", he shouted.

The Molbo woke up.  He looked down at his legs, but as he did not see the spotless white stockings Mother had given him before he left home that morning, he did not move.  "Drive on, my friend," he called.  "They're not my legs".