“I WAS AT YOUR LECTURE LAST NIGHT.”
“Well, sir, I couldn’t very well laugh before the rest.”
“Why didn’t you give the signal?”
“You see, sir,” he said, “we are in Connecticut.”
“Is laughter prohibited by the Statute Book in Connecticut?” I remarked.
“No, sir, but if you all laugh at the same time, then——”
“I see, nobody can tell who is the real criminal.”
The train arrived. I shook hands with my friend, after offering him half a dollar for holding my bag—which he refused—and went on board.
In the parlor car, I met my kind friend Colonel Charles H. Taylor, editor of that very successful paper, the Boston Globe. We had luncheon together in the dining car, and time passed delightfully in his company till we reached the Grand Central station, New York, when we parted. He was kind enough to make me promise to look him up in Boston in a fortnight’s time, when I make my second appearance in the City of Culture.