And so we pass the retort discourteous, and exchange pleasantries as only old friends may.
In the Catskill village, where we delight to spend a portion of the heated term and all our hard-earned capital, there is a boarding-house run by an eccentric genius, who knows how to set a good table and never has an empty room through the season, though over the gate leading up to his hotel he has painted a sign that might well cause consternation in the breast of many a would-be sojourner, for it reads:
"Boarders taken by the day, week or month. Those who do not pay promptly will be taken by the neck."
There were some rumors floating around that this remarkable Boniface, as a Christian Science advocate, had been benefited to an astonishing extent in the recovery of his health.
Being of an investigating turn of mind, and anxious to learn all that was possible concerning the latest fad, I cornered old Bijinks out near the hog-pen and engaged him in conversation, during which he made a positive assertion that rather staggered me.
"Do you mean to tell me that you actually believe Christian Science cured you?" I demanded, eagerly.
"Sure," he said, nodding.
"Of appendicitis?"