No record exists of the additional facts that when Anton's body was found the coveted bird was in his hand, and that in a little silk bag around his neck was a fair tress of shining hair.
This andenken Ethel carries in her heart.
The Man from Maine.
BY J. D. ELLSWORTH.
AS a Westerner, I was amused by the discreet sinfulness of Boston; but when business called me to Maine, our down-east sister, whose temperate example is always held before our eyes, I felt that I was about to set foot on the stepping-stone of heaven. To provide against the serpent that must inevitably haunt such an Eden, I filled my pocket flask with the standard Western remedy for snake bites.
The train left the Union Station at nine in the morning, and anticipating a stupid ride I went into the smoking-car to enjoy a cigar and read my newspaper. The car was fitted up with mahogany card tables and stationary cribbage boards. In the seats in front of me were three traveling men.
"Play euchre?" said one of them, looking toward a lean, lanky stranger.
"Does it cost anything?"