“You get that ice,” said I, “or I will break your d——d head. I did not know you were a guest and you have no business to look so much like a waiter,” and I not only made him get the ice, but I made him take the quarter.
I think they would do better up there if they used Standard time.
Yours, Jack.
“STOCKYARDS,” SAID HE, “USED TO BE A RIPPER.”
Merry Christmas.
Jack
Henderson.
Merry Christmas.
Pittsburgh, Pa., 19—.