"Where'd that feller cum frum with his steam pianer,—Syr'cuse?"
"Naw! Chicago."
"Great cranberries! you don't say so,—all the way from Chicago!
When did he start?"
"Day 'fore yesterday," replied the old man, and we could hear him putting back the bottles; a chorus of voices,—
"What!"
"Holy Mo—"
"Day afore yester—say, look here, you're jokin'."
"Mebbe I am, but if you don't believe it, ask him."
"Why Chicago is further'n Buf'lo—an' that's faster'n a train."
"Yes," drawled the old man; "he passed the Empire Express th' other side Syr'cuse."