Speaking of marrying brings to my mind a very eccentric old minister out in Oklahoma at the time the boom was in full progress.
He was the only parson for miles around, and it kept him busy splicing couples, for a regular fever seemed to have broken out, and everybody thought of taking a mate.
I asked a resident if the stories I had heard about the domine were true, and that in his wholesale business he had actually married thirty couples within an hour, that being high-water mark.
"Yes, stranger," responded the boomer, "and we call him the 'torpedo-boat minister.'"
"Why so?"
"Because he made thirty knots an hour."
By the way, I forgot to tell you several amusing things that happened while I was down in Dixie.
When in Alabama, I spent some time with an old friend who owned a big plantation.
Among his negro hands was his coachman, who up to that time had invariably persisted in getting in his vote, despite the plain hints of the white election officers that he would do better to stay at home. On that particular Election Day he returned home in the afternoon with a countenance that looked like it had been taking some familiarities with a buzz saw.