Bob Irwin, “Canada’s fastest,” put in an appearance now with a string of Dollie Varden trout which he stated he had caught over in the Hesperian canal.
“No, I did not subsidize any small boy, either,” warmly remarked Irwin, “for I am a fisherman from way back.”
“Yes, you used to catch catfish on the Mississippi below St. Louis,” said John Topliff as he bobbed to the front.
“I never contradict my chief operator; you taught me that stunt,” retorted Irwin, and all the St. Louis contingent laughed to the echo.
“I never liked that story Dick Babbitt propagated about David Flannery. You remember that one about ‘Jobs and Positions.’ I never liked it and I am going to tell Dick so.”
“I plead guilty,” said Babbitt, adding “and I throw myself upon the mercy of the Court.” This remark was made with mock solemnity, which evoked an “Aw, forgit it” from Davis.
The band, of which Ed Leloup was the leader, discoursed some stirring Southern melodies, after which the meeting took the form of a general social feast, many introductions being made.
There was no bickering, no quarreling, no riotousness on the planet Mars. Surely everyone was supposed to forget all these ere they could remain in peace in this delightful haven of rest.
Everything was so harmonious here that few cared to leave its delightful precincts until lapse of time urged him for a higher climb.
To the lover of music, music was everywhere; to the student of literature, the universe was an open book, always ready to instruct an earnest student; to the inquirer after the arts and sciences, Mars gives ample opportunity for study and advancement, but to the person who makes inquiry after the pleasures of a flesh, a big and emphatic “No” is given. Mars and its inhabitants are built on different lines.