"There's an old story that has never been vouched for to the effect that a Methodist preacher wore out his teeth eating chickens, and, in course of time, had false teeth put in, and the new teeth, like the old ones, soon became fond of chewing chicken bones. On one occasion the said Methodist preacher was going over to take supper with a sister whose spring chickens were just right for frying. He had to cross a creek on a foot-log, and, when about midway, he coughed his teeth out and they fell in the creek, sinking to the bottom. The water was deep and a little muddy, so to get them out, without going in and dragging for them, was impossible. He went on, however, and reported his misfortune to the lady with whom he was to eat fried chicken, saying: "I'm afraid, sister, I won't enjoy my supper, as I have no teeth to chew with." A son, standing by, said: "Mister, I can get your teeth." "I wish you would," said the preacher, "for I do hate to miss your mother's nice fried chicken." The boy hurried off, but soon returned and surprised the preacher by saving: "Mister, here's your teeth!" In amazement the preacher asked: "How did you get them, my son?" "I baited a hook with a leg of the fried chicken, and as soon as the hook touched the bottom the teeth bit." I say this story has never been vouched for; but, if true, it proves that the new teeth had learned to love chicken quite as as well as the old ones ever did". (From Whitaker's Reminiscences, Incidents and Anecdotes - 1905)