He rose one evening in a political meeting, and swelling out his bosom, as his eagle eye rested on the chairman, he said:
“Mr. Cheerman! I move you that the cheer do appoint a committee of three to attend to the matter under discussion, and that sayed committee be clothed by the cheer with ominiscient and omnipotent powers.”
The motion was duly seconded and the cheerman said he guessed that it wouldn't be necessary to put it to a vote.
“I guess it will be all right, Mr. Pinkham. I guess there'll be no declivity to that.”
And so the committee was appointed and clothed with omniscient and omnipotent powers, there being no declivity to it.
We had a self-made lawyer at one time in the northern part of the State who would rather find a seventy-five cent word and use it in a speech where it did not belong than to eat a good square meal. He was more fatal to the King's English than O'Dynamite Rossa. One day he was telling how methodical one of the county officials was.
“Why,” said he, “I never saw a man do so much and do it so easy. But the secret of it is plain enough. You see, he has a regular rotunda of business every day.”
If he meant anything, I suppose he meant a routine of business, but a man would have to be a mind reader to follow him some days when he had about six fingers of cough medicine aboard and began to paw around in the dark and musty garret of his memory for moth-eaten words that didn't mean anything.
A neighbor of mine went to Washington during the Guiteau trial and has been telling us about it ever since. He is one of those people who don't want to be close and stingy about what they know. He likes to go through life shedding information right and left. He likes to get a crowd around him and then tell how he was in Washington at the time of the “post mortise examination.” “Boys, you may talk all your a mind to, but the greatest thing I saw in Washington,” said he, “was Dr. Mary Walker on the street every morning riding one of these philosophers.”
{Illustration: HE PAINTED THE FENCE GREEN.}