Down the line with John Henry

by George V. Hobart

Swift often told himself that he could give Marshall P. Wilder six sure-fires and beat him down to the wire.

Swift is one of those low-foreheads who "write their own stuff" and say "I done it!"

After Swift had talked the audience into a chill, he pushed on and left us with a stone bruise on our memories.

Then we had Rufus Nelson, the parlor prestidigitator.

Rufus was a bad boy.

He cooked an omelet in a silk hat and when he gave the hat back to Ed. Walker the poached eggs fell out and cuddled up in Ed's hair.

Rufus apologized and said he'd do the trick over again if someone else would lend him a hat, but there was nothing doing.

When the contralto crawled under the ropes and began to tell us that the bells in the village rang ding-ding-dong I was busy watching a Goo-goo Bird.

Did you ever spot one of those Glance-Givers?

This chap's name was Llewellyn Joyce, and he considered himself a perfect hellyon.