“Yeah, boss. You kill ’im,” answered the darky, as he bent over the stricken creature. Then, as he straightened, seeing that the fallen animal had no horns, he added: “ ’E a doe do’.”
At this moment the host hurried up, having heard the shot from his place of ambush a short distance away.
“Any luck?” he called out as he approached.
“Oh, yes,” answered the Britisher exultantly. “I thought I saw a deer and dropped it, but your black fellow yonder has just told me that it is a dodo—a creature which I thought was entirely extinct. Luck, eh, what?”
§ 346 The Gift of Tongues
To arrive at an estimate of the approximate age of this one, try to recall how many years ago it was that Robert Ingersol died and then take it into further consideration that the incident here to be narrated is supposed to have occurred quite a long time before that date.
The great infidel was sitting one day in his library. A genius out of a job came to him seeking advice.
“Mr. Ingersol,” said the caller, “I speak seven languages fluently but somehow or other I don’t seem to be able to make a living. I can’t get work anywhere. At this moment I owe a month’s rent. What can you suggest?”
“My friend,” said Ingersol, “I don’t think I could suggest anything for a person who can express himself in seven languages and can’t pay his rent in any one of them.”