One night we got into a dealer’s office about six o’clock; the dealer was just shutting up to go home. Harry always introduced me differently to every one we met and it happened that at this particular office he introduced me as a theological student. I was not at all surprised, as he had introduced me as almost everything.
The dealer invited us to go with him for supper. I wanted to cut it out, but Harry leaned towards the house, as I suppose he thought he saw an order ahead. When we sat down to supper, there were besides Harry and myself, the dealer, his wife and six boys ranging from twelve to twenty years of age. They had a whole roast pig for supper, but it was the smallest pig I ever saw, either dead or alive. I was hungry and as I looked around that table and saw the anxious eyes that were sizing up that pig, I could not help but think that if I could get one crack at it myself, that the rest of them would go to bed hungry.
We were all seated, but there was nothing doing. I looked to see what the trouble was; the old man was nodding at me. I glanced at Harry, he was grinning. I looked myself over to see what was the matter with me and then the old man spoke:
“Please ask a blessing, Mr. Henderson.” Then it occurred to me that Harry had introduced me as a theological student and the perspiration started out all over me. I knew every eye was on me and I looked at the pig for inspiration. The thought came to me that I must carry out the part if it took a wing. My eye rested on the pig as it stood on the platter on all fours, and its small size struck me more forcibly. I thought and before I could suppress the words, I had said my thoughts aloud:
“It’s too d——d small.”
The boys had been worked up to a high pitch by the size of the pig and the failure to get started right, and they gave a holler that shook the dishes on the table, the old man looked ugly, the old woman fainted and during the excitement Harry and I made a break for the door. We left that night; we had queered ourselves with the only dealer there. Harry was inclined to laugh the affair off, but it seemed to me as though I had made an awful break somehow. Say, but it was an awful little pig, though.
So long, Billy,
Jack.
THE ASSISTANT SUPERINTENDENT.