“No; it's attached to me,” the farmer answered, as he stopped and looked at the statesman in a flurry of laughter.
“If you don't mind, sir, I presume that it wouldn't hurt the feelings of your beard to part with you. Please have it removed. It makes me nervous.”
“I'll have it cut and boxed and shipped to you,” said the farmer.
“Giles, give the gentleman ten dollars, and take his note payable in whiskers,” the statesman directed.
At the next station a number entered the car, and among them was the Websterian form of John Henry Griggs, with its stovepipe hat and gold-headed cane.
“Hello, Senator. Would you allow me to look at your hat?” the Colonel demanded of him.
“Certainly,” said the gentleman addressed, as he laughingly passed his beaver to the Colonel, having halted by the seat of the latter.
The Colonel examined it critically, and asked, “How much will you take for it?”
“Well, to-night it's a pretty valuable hat,” said the other. “I wouldn't care to take less than twenty-five dollars for it.”
“And it is easily worth that to my needy friend here, who seeks admittance to the higher circles of society,” the Colonel answered. “Giles, you will kindly settle with the Senator.”