A GIFTED YOUTH
Although Alfred had arrived at the age of 21 years he showed no inclinaton either to pursue his studies or in any way adapt himself to his father's business.
"I don't know what I will ever make of that son of mine," bitterly complained his father, a hustling business man.
"Maybe he hasn't found himself yet," consoled the confidential friend.
"Isn't he gifted in any way?"
"Gifted?" queried the father. "Well, I should say he is! He ain't got a thing that wasn't given to him."
IT HAPPENED IN ILLINOIS
The time was registration day; the place was a a small town in Southern Illinois. There was no girl. He was a gentleman of color, and the registrar was having considerable trouble explaining the whys and wherefors of the registration. At last Rastus showed a faint glimmer of intelligence.
"Dis heyah registrashum fo' de draf' am a whole lot like 'lection votin', ain't it?" he asked uncertainly.
"Yes," answered the kindly registrar.
Rastus scratched his head in troubled doubt. He was thinking deeply. Presently his brow cleared and a smile spread over his face. He had come to a decision.