Jake was lost. He walked he knew not whither, Palmer pleading and swearing to guide him. The gate and shining light to which I referred were imaginary. I pointed off stage. Jake, in his excitement was trying to get away from the audience. He walked up stage; he pressed against the canvas, trying to force his way further. Palmer and Bedford Tom had all their weight against the frame of the panorama. When Jake felt resistance he put his powerful muscles to work. "Hold on! Hold on! Stop! You can't go further," cried Palmer. Jake kept on pushing. "Hold her down, Tom; hold her down." Then came a crash, the lights went out and over went Palmer, Tom and the panorama.

Jake's breathing and his efforts to release himself from the heavy canvas covering him could be heard above the din and confusion. Palmer was here, there, everywhere, assuring the audience that a slight accident had befallen the mechanical part of the panorama. "Just remain seated, we'll give you a good show." He forgot himself and called it a show after all his orders to us not to speak the word "show." The strong arms of Bedford Tom, and Jake soon righted the panorama. Mrs. Palmer played the organ, and right there is where one of my songs would come in right. I sung for Jake and Tom last night and Jake declared: "The people in Bedford would like one of dem nigger songs better dan Palmer's hull tarn pictur show. De hull tam ting is a fraudt; no such a man as Bunjun was ever in Bedford yail. I and Tom knows every man dot's been in dot yail and dey don't put 'em in yail fur what he sedt." Jake's mixed up; he imagines Palmer refers to Bedford, Pa.

The panorama worked along smoothly until Pliable and Christian, (I and Jake), fell into the Slough of Despond. You know, in the book, Pliable and Christian are traveling together; they fall in the Slough of Despond; Pliable struggles and gets out. Christian, owing to the burden he carries on his back, flounders about and is fast sinking when Help appears and asks: "What doest thou there?" Jake answered: "Noting." Palmer hissed: "Roll over! Roll over! Hold your head under the canvas; duck, you son of a gun, duck!" Palmer answered with the speech Jake was supposed to deliver, as Jake rolled over and over: "Sir, I was bid by a man named Evangelist, who directed me to yonder gate that I might escape the wrath to come and as I was going thither I fell in here." Then I come as Help; I say: "Why did you not look for the steps?" Jake is supposed to say: "Fear followed me so hard that I fled the next way and fell in." Then as Help, I lean far over, hold out my hand and say: "Give me thine hand that I may draw thee upon hard ground that thou might go thy way." Instead of Jake following the business as rehearsed, he arose, took the burden off his back, walked out the opposite side, back towards the City of Destruction.

The audience, or some of them, tittered, others laughed outright. Palmer was prompting Jake: "Get into the pond! Complete the scene!" The more Palmer prompted, the more confused Jake appeared. "Get your burden, it's not time to drop it; get your burden." Jake, smiling, walked over the miry, muddy slough he was supposed to have struggled in a moment before, and took up the burden. Instead of putting it on his back he carried it under his arm, nodded at Palmer, as much as to say: "I'm ready for anything further, go on." Worldly Wise Man here appears before Christian and speaks to him: "How now good fellow; whither away after this burdened manner?" Christian answers: "A burdened manner indeed as ever, I think, poor creature had. And whereas you ask me whither away, I am going to yonder wicket gate, for there, as I am informed, I shall be put in a way to be rid of my heavy burden." Then Worldly Wise advises Christian: "Wilt thou hearken to me if I give thee counsel?" Christian answers: "If it be good I will, for I stand in need of good counsel." Worldly Wise then answers: "I would advise thee that thou, with all speed, get thyself rid of thy burden, for thou will never be settled in thy mind until then." Palmer answered with Christian's speech: "That is which I seek for, even to be rid of this heavy burden, but get it off myself I cannot, nor is there any man in our country who can take it off my shoulders."



Jake, smiling more pleasantly than ever, answered, "I kin." Suiting the action to the word, he flung his burden into the Slough of Despond. The pond was a thin piece of canvas painted to represent the quagmire. The burden made a sound as of the house falling down. Jake wiped the perspiration from his face and, spitting a mouthful of tobacco juice to one side, he gazed on the audience and smiled. It was too much for even the staid old church members. The laughter was so great that Palmer pulled the curtain and announced an organ recital.

Christian's burden was replaced on Jake's back, he was admonished to pay closest attention to Palmer's promptings. Jake continued the pilgrimage. In the next scene Jake, representing Christian on his journey from the City of Destruction to the Celestial City, must pass through the Dark Valley of Shadows. When Jake, instead of keeping to the right and following the straight and narrow path, boldly walked into the mouth of the burning pit, out of which Palmer was sending sparks and smoke. Palmer again pulled the curtain on the scene. Jake sat on a stage stump. Smoke was still coming from the pot of damp straw. Tears filled Jake's eyes, tears caused by the smoke. Palmer rushed back and forth, declaring Jake had made a farce of the most beautiful and inspiring scene in the entire exhibition. I was substituted for Jake. I knew every speech; I had learned them all and it went good to the last.

The second book is even more impressive and instructive than the first. You should read it. As the young ladies walk in at the Beautiful Gate of the city, Pilgrim is seen through a gauze; one by one the sheets of gauze are pulled down until Christian fades away like a vision. It held the audience dumb; they never witnessed anything like it; neither did I. Palmer wouldn't let me speak the words; he said they must be delivered with great dramatic effect. The words are: "I see myself now at the end of my journey, my toilsome days are ended. I have formerly lived by hearsay and faith, but I now go where I shall live by sight." But glorious it was to see how the open regions were filled with horses and chariots, with trumpeters and pipers, with singers and players upon stringed instruments, to welcome the pilgrims as they went up and followed one another in at the gates of the Beautiful City. Here the young ladies, with lighted lamps, passed in. As Pilgrim disappeared, Palmer, with great effect, ended the scene with the eloquent words: "Now, while he was thus in discourse, his countenance changed; his strong man bowed under him and, after he had said: 'Take me, for I come unto thee,' he ceased to be seen of them."

ALFRED GRIFFITH HATFIELD.

FOOTNOTES:

[B] Bacon.

[C] Gravy.



CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Do not believe all that you hear, For hot air men are hawking; And even keep a cautious ear When you, yourself, are talking.

BROWNSVILLE, PA.

MY DEAR SON:

I take my pen in hand to write you a few lines hoping that they may find you as well as we all are here. Mother reads your letters to us at dinner time. I hope you are living better. I never knew a genius that cared much about his eating, therefore, I do not suppose Palmer ever gave it a thought that you were suffering. He is a good fellow and I know he will make out well, except in the eating line.

You need not worry about your shotgun; I have it and will look after it until such time as I feel you should be permitted to handle dangerous weepuns. Turner Simpson says your Cousin Charley got that hound pup weeks ago; he claims Charley said you sent him after the pup.

All your friends inquire about you. Bill Johnston told me he was sorry he had to have you arrested for overturning his hay stack; that he did not believe you was to blame, the boys with you led you into oversetting the haystack to catch the rabbit.

Your Uncle Joe was in town Saturday, got tite and carried on high. He is getting worse as he gets older. Betsy is mortified to death. They were just at communion afore it happened.

How is Palmer doing? Is he making money? Did he get my letter? Hoping to hear from you very often and that you will remember that your father and mother and all the children think of you daily and all look forward to the time when we shall see you again,

Your affectionate father, J. C. H.

Alfred was living in a little world all his own. Jake, Bedford Tom, Mrs. Palmer, Gideon, Tom White, were its inhabitants. Palmer was not of it. He was not of the agreeable circle. Alfred often read letters from home to Mrs. Palmer. She was greatly interested in the correspondence. Alfred knew she desired him to read the father's letter to her. In a serious manner he advised the letter was a business one. This seemed to make the good woman even more anxious. She actually quizzed Alfred as to whether the letter was not one demanding payment of money borrowed by her husband. Alfred asked her if she knew the amount due his father. She did not, but said she would ascertain; further, she would exert herself to earn money to repay it. Alfred appreciated this and regretted he had ever mentioned the flitch in his letters to the folks at home. He felt that he had reflected upon Mrs. Palmer.

He re-read his father's letter that he might expunge the reference to the scant living. He read to where Bill Johnston had apologized for having him arrested; he did not care to have Mrs. Palmer know of this.



Palmer, with his panorama and side issues, was making money, and there was not a day, not an hour, that something coarse, selfish or mean, did not show itself in word or deed of the man. The half dozen young women, who took part in the final scene, were robed in long, pale blue gowns, worn over their street apparel. It was necessary to fit the costumes on the young ladies previous to the opening or first exhibition. In arranging with the fathers or mothers of the girls, Palmer always emphasized the statement that: "My wife, Mrs. Palmer will take charge of the young ladies, show them their costumes." Mrs. Palmer was always ready to do so but Palmer was always there. He insisted, he forced his services in fitting the costumes. He would take an unusually long time to smooth out the wrinkles on the waist and bust lines. All this was done so unconcerned that none would ever suspect he was playing a part. His wife would flush up, walk away and occupy herself with other duties.

If there was a foolish virgin among the damsels—and there were some foolish ones in those days, though not so many as now—Palmer would begin a flirtation, kept up until he departed. This was only one of the many mean traits of the man that lessened Alfred's respect for him.

Palmer could not understand Alfred. Always full of fun and mischief, always ready to laugh, yet at times the boy was positively rude to the man nor would he permit any familiarity from Palmer.

One day in setting up the frame of the panorama, several members of the church in which it was to be exhibited, entered the auditorium unnoticed. Palmer, while driving a nail, miscalculated, the hammer came down on one of his fingers. Flinging the hammer on the floor with all the force he could command, he poured forth a torrent of profanity. Gideon, by signs, gave Palmer to understand that others were near. With a change as quick as a flash, Palmer grabbed Alfred by the coat collar, nearly lifting the boy off his feet. With a voice that sounded as if it were choking with indignation, he began: "You young scamp, I never heard you swear like this before, and I never want to hear you again. How dare you use such language in this house?" The onslaught was so sudden and unexpected that Alfred was taken off his feet. He had been in high good humor, laughing heartily at Palmer's mishap. Palmer led the intruders out in the auditorium ere the boy gathered his scattered senses.

Jake exclaimed: "Huh! Balmur knocks his fingers und makes oudt Alfred does der tammen." Shaking his head, he continued: "Balmur beats der bugs."

Alfred was savage with anger. He started after Palmer but Gideon restrained him, standing in his pathway, holding him back, appealing to Jake to assist him in controlling the boy. Gideon persuaded Alfred to drop the matter for the time. Jake desired that the boy call Palmer to account. He answered Gideon's appeals in a sort of careless, I-don't-care way: "Vell, it's yust like Alfredt feels, if he vants to yump Balmur, I tink he kann handle him, I von't interfere. It iss none uf my biziness, yett."



It was late in the afternoon when Palmer again appeared in the church. He entered, as was his custom, all hurry and bustle. "Hello, Alfred! I thought you'd have the panorama all set. Waiting for the boss, hey?"

"Yes, I'm waiting for the boss and I want to tell the boss the next time he tries to make a scapegoat out of me before a lot of church people he'll hear something he won't like. I'm no clod-hopper to have you make me appear a rowdy. You daddy your own cussing."

Palmer seemed greatly surprised at this and, as usual, in an argument with his people, became greatly excited. He endeavored to win with a bluff. "Here, my young man, you're always playing your jokes on Jake and all the others; I was only having a little fun with you, I didn't intend to hurt your feeling."

"Feelings! Feelings! What about my good name? What'll those men think of me? I'm ashamed to face them again while I'm here."

"Oh, you're too soft to travel; you ought to be at home with your gilt edge ideas."

"Well, I can go home," hotly retorted Alfred.

"I've got a written agreement with your father and I'll hold you to it," threatened Palmer.

"You'll hold me to nothing. You've got no writings that'll permit your making me out a rowdy."

"Now see here, Mr. Minstrel," and Palmer assumed mock politeness, "I've heard enough of your slack; dry up or I'll make you."

Alfred jumped to the middle of the platform and dared Palmer to lay his hand on him. Palmer got so excited he could not talk. Gideon, as usual, in his quiet, argumentative way, endeavored to smooth the matter over: "Come on, let's get ready for tonight. We're going to have the best business since we opened."

"I've quit," announced Alfred, "I'm going home."

Jake's smile fled; his under jaw hung down, giving his face an expression Alfred had never previously seen it wear. Gideon turned even more yellowish looking. Bedford Tom ejected a mouthful of tobacco juice as he blurted out: "I pity Pilgrim's Progress."

Gideon continued his plea: "Well, if this company isn't demoralized I don't know what I'm talking about. Now see here, boys, listen to me; we're together, let's reason like honest people should: To have you," and he looked at Alfred, "quit thus abruptly would cause innocent ones to suffer. See what an embarrassment it would be to Mrs. Palmer. Why, it would kill her. She has sacrificed everything she holds dear in the world; she has two children." (Gideon had won his point, it was not necessary for him to say more). "She has not seen those children in two years; she hopes to have them with her soon. See what a disappointment it would be to her and the children. Alfred, as at present arranged, we could not spare you. I will get Palmer and we will fix this matter up satisfactorily to you."

Alfred was just a boy, not unlike any other boy. He did not desire to quit; and he knew he was indispensable to the successful production of the panorama. He also felt that he had won thus far. He did not yield, outwardly at least, but agreed that he would await Gideon's interview with Palmer. He had no preconceived ideas as to what to do or say further, but, like all who are disgruntled, he could not bring himself to say that he would.

While Gideon was seeking Palmer, Jake endeavored to console Alfred: "Ef you do go out of der paneramy it vill be too tam bad; I will not acdt out annudder time. I toldt Balmur delas' time. I'm no handt at paneramy buziness und it's no more fur Jake to do it."

Bedford Tom put another blotch on the white pine floor as he patted Jake on the back: "You're all yerself agin, ole man, your sensibilness is kerrect; don't try to act in a panerammer or enythin' else. Ef ye hed seen yerself with thet tume-stun, er whatever it wus, on yer back, an' wallerin' in thet painted pond, ye'd never went back to Bedford. Ye certainly made a muss of hit."

"Vell, I toldt heem I vus ashamed mit myself, end he sedt: 'Oh, hell yu kann standt und look myzerbul, kan't yu?'"

Bedford Tom laughed in the honest Dutchman's face as he assured him he looked "myzerbul enuff but his actin' was more myzerbul then his looks."

"Vhy don'dt yu try it ef yu tink it ees so tam easy?" was Jake's answer.

Gideon walked in, beckoned to Alfred: "Come down to Palmer's room, he wants to talk this whole thing over."

Alfred did not care to meet Mrs. Palmer. "Tell Palmer to come up here," was the message Gideon carried back. Alfred was feeling just a little ashamed of the part he had played in the dispute; he felt that he had gone a bit further than he should. But his instinctive dislike to Palmer had grown day by day. The man's face, that index to character, had repulsed him when they first met. There are lines in the face chiseled by a sculptor who never makes a wrong stroke. The face is a truthful record of our vices and virtues. It is a map of life that outlines character so clearly that there is no getting away from the story it tells. The face is a signboard showing which way the man or woman is traveling, which of life's crossroads they are on. The face cannot betray the years one has traveled until the mind gives its consent. The mind is the master. If the mind holds youthful, innocent thoughts, the face will retain a youthful appearance. And the more permanent are the marks made by petulancy, hatred and selfishness thereon. The best letter of recommendation ever written is an open fearless face.

Palmer put in an appearance, his face showing plainly that he was not at ease. His manner was as flambuoyant as ever: "Where is this mainstay of the only panorama on earth? Come here, boy, I want to talk to you like a father:

"I was a boy not long ago, unthinking, idle, wild and young, I laughed, and danced and talked and sung."

The antics Palmer cut while delivering this couplet were truly amusing. Palmer was an actor. Placing his hand on Alfred's shoulder, gazing into his face, he continued:

"Just at the age twixt boy and youth, When thought is speech and speech is truth."

Then quoting Christian in the Pilgrim's Progress: "I have given him my faith and sworn my allegiance to him. How then can I go back from this and not be hanged as a traitor?" Palmer pointed his long, bony finger at Alfred and awaited a reply. It came:

"I was indeed engaged in your dominions but your services were hard and your wages such as a man could not live on. For the wages of sin is death."

Palmer, a little discomforted, led the boy to one side, saying: "Now see here, young fellow, I'm as old as your father; I don't look it, but I am. Now you want to quit, eh? You wouldn't be at home four days before you would wish yourself back here. You are not rich, your father is not rich. You have to make a living. I'll give you an opportunity to make money. You are learning this business, you have good ideas. You remain with me, I'll make a man of you; I'll put you in a way to make more money than you've ever seen."

Alfred intimated that he could not see himself making a great deal of money at twenty dollars a month.

"Why, don't you count your board, as anything?"

"Well, I'm not satisfied. I'm worth more than twenty dollars a month to you," stubbornly contended Alfred.

"But you and your father are both bound up to me in a written agreement. Do you want to break it? Would that be right?"

"Well, you broke your written contract with the members of Rock Hill Church. You said Gideon made the contract without consulting you. Grandpap made this contract without consulting me."

Palmer laughed long and loud: "Egad, that's good! This kid finds me skinning a couple of old duffers and forthwith he sets about to skin me. The harvest truly is plenteous but the laborers are few; ask and it shall be given to you; seek and you shall find; knock and it shall be opened to you." Pointing at Alfred, he continued: "But remember, the love of money is the root of all evil. Say, what are you going to do with all this money?"

"Buy a farm, some day," answered Alfred.

"How great a matter a little fire kindleth," quoted Palmer as he pleadingly asked: "Say, kid, how much are you going to hang me up for?"

"Well, if you give me fifty dollars a month, I'll stick to you."

"Holy mother of all that's evil; the devil and Tom Walker! Say, who do you take after? Not your daddy. He's easy. Fifty dollars a month? Say, I worked two years and had a wife and two children to take care of and I never cleared forty dollars a month. I've been a lifetime working myself up to what I am and you jump into the game, inexperienced, green as a cucumber, and want to hog the persimmons at the start. 'Taint fair, 'taint right; I'm an honest man; I want to treat everybody right. You're taking advantage of me. It's the principle of the thing I look at."

"Well, get another boy, you can find one any day. If I stay with this panorama I will get fifty dollars a month."

"Yes, and if I permit you to hold me up this time, the next move you'll want the panorama. Your Uncle William served his time like an honest boy, he has made a fortune. He has the best farm in Fayette County; he has money, he is the judge of the county court. He never got where he is by breaking written agreements."

"Yes, but that was different, Uncle William was learning a trade. He got all kinds of chances to make money on the outside of his work."

"Hold on right there—I'll give you any opportunity you want to make money on the side. You can sell the "Life of John Bunyan," "The Pilgrim's Progress," "Paradise Lost," the steel engraving of the twelve apostles or anything we sell and I'll allow you a good, big commission."

The sale of the above mentioned articles was that which first turned Alfred against Palmer. The sneaking, wheedling methods he employed, the subterfuges, the lies in disposing of books and pictures, were the things which made the man most repulsive to Alfred. He therefore felt insulted when Palmer offered him the opportunity to make money from this source. Alfred plainly informed Palmer that he would not have anything to do with the sale of the books or pictures.

"Huh! I suppose you feel above selling books that are in the libraries of the best people in the world. You'd prefer, no doubt, to sell pills."

A little abashed, Alfred came back with: "Well, if I did sell pills, I sold them on the square and at a less price than they were worth and they were sold to folks that needed them and if they needed them and wern't able to pay for them they got them free and we didn't lie about what we did with the money. We didn't pretend to send it to the heathen."

Palmer interrupted the boy: "Wait and see how you get along when you strike your own gait, when you get your own show out. That's your idea; that's why you are so unreasonable. I'm going to give you the money you ask, not because it's right but because I want to do what's right. If I'd let you go, you'd go back to Brownsville and it would not be a week until you'd have some fool thing afloat that would bring all sorts of trouble on your folks. I'm doing this for your people, not for you."

Alfred had won. He was not entirely free from the feeling that he had not acted quite right but he stilled his conscience by arguing to himself that Grandpap had no authority to enter into a contract for him; besides hadn't his mother declared that no indenture was valid without her signature, that no child of hers should ever be bound to anybody? When she demanded to see the papers it was not convenient for those interested to have them at hand. The mother had forcibly informed Palmer that there must be no restraint upon Alfred should he become homesick and that he must be permitted to return to his home at any time he desired to do so. All of which Palmer had unreservedly agreed to.

BEDFORD, PA.

DEAR FATHER:

Your welcome letter came to hand today; glad you are all well and hearty. I've had a big fuss with Palmer. I wanted to quit. He coaxed me to stay and promised me fifty dollars a month. Is that paper he holds on me binding? Could he hold my wages if he wanted to. He told Gideon he was going to record the indenture when we got to Leesburg and it would always stand in evidence against me. He is not the kind of man Grandpap and Uncle Thomas crack him up to be. If Palmer don't pay the fifty, I don't stay, papers or no papers. He is gouging everybody and it is no sin to gouge him. Say Pap, now don't get mad; how much did he set you back? Tell me. If I get the fifty I think I can get yours. If Cousin Charley has my hound he'll have to give it up when I get home. If I get the fifty I'll buy me a new shotgun like Capt. Abrams has.

My love to Muz and all the children and Lin.

Your affectionate son, ALFRED GRIFFITH HATFIELD.

P. S. I am not afraid of Palmer; I could break him in two. But I don't like to break the law. Let me know about the paper he holds, he would do anything, law or no law.

* * * * *

Since Alfred's experience with the law in the Eli affair it could not be said that he had more respect for the law but undoubtedly he had more fear for it as evidenced by his letter to the father.

Things went on much the same with the panorama. Palmer was more polite and condescending toward Alfred in speech, but many little inconveniences were put upon him that he had not experienced previous to the unpleasantness.

Jake seemed to have fallen under the displeasure of Palmer and many were the squabbles between them. At one place where the panorama exhibited the church was too small. An old carriage factory was used instead. At one end there was a large freight lift elevator. Palmer's inventive genius prompted him to use the platform of the elevator for a stage. It was about twenty by thirty feet in dimensions much larger than the stages usually constructed for the panorama. When the elevator was in place it formed a part of the floor of the room.

Palmer and Jake labored all day and into the night to elevate it about two feet above the floor. When elevated thus it was pronounced by the little company the best stage since the season began; just high enough to show the effects to best advantage.

Jake said he hoped "dey vould strike more blaces mit dings like dis." The building of a platform or a stage in the various churches had made strenuous work for Jake.

All was set for the unveiling of the wonderful work of art. The old factory was crowded. All went smoothly until the scene where "Faithful" is adjudged guilty and condemned to the terrible punishment supposed to be meted out to him. This scene is not visible to the audience but is described by the lecturer, as "Faithful" is supposed to be burned to ashes after being scourged and pricked with knives. Palmer had just concluded the speech: "Now I saw that there stood behind the multitude a chariot and a couple of horses waiting for 'Faithful', who, as soon as his adversaries had dispatched him, was taken up into it, and straightway, was carried up through the clouds with sound of trumpet." Palmer sounded the trumpet. Tom White, in a long, white flowing robe, with gauze veils over his face, is pulled up by a block and tackle, the rope concealed by the long, white robe. With appropriate music this scene was one of the most beautiful in the exhibition.

The trumpet sounded signaling "Faithful's" ascension. How what followed happened no one will ever know. Palmer blamed Jake. Jake never admitted or denied that he was the cause. When there should have been an ascension there was a descension.

The elevator slipped a cog, or something; there was a slow, regular descent, not too hasty. Down went the whole panorama, descending in time with the music; down went the City of Vanity with its fair, its thieves and fakirs painted on canvas, while poor "Faithful" dangled in mid-air. As the elevator sank out of sight, as the characters, painting and frame disappeared below the floor, the audience applauded approvingly at first, then the absurdity of the scene struck them and approving applause changed to aggravating laughter.

Jake stood manfully by the rope he was holding; Palmer was wild; Alfred and Bedford Tom were doing all they could to suppress their laughter. Suddenly the thing stopped, struck the floor in the room below. Jake, grabbing the windlass, soon had the panorama slowly ascending. As it came into view the audience applauded lustily. Mrs. Palmer kept the ascension music going until the stage was back in its proper place when Palmer, who was always seeking an opportunity to make a speech, walked out in front of the curtain and explained that the panorama weighed several tons, the great weight had broken the lift.

At this juncture Jake appeared with two heavy pieces of scantling; unmindful of Palmer, he began spiking the props under the edge of the platform. The strokes of the hammer completely drowned Palmer's voice. When Jake sent the last nail home he arose from his knees with a "Dere, tam you, I ges you'll holdt now."

Palmer was in a greater rage than at any time since the tour began. His wife, Gideon and several others endeavored to pacify him. Everybody but Alfred came in for a share of the abuse; even his poor wife, who was really deserving of all praise for saving the scene, was more than censured.

Alfred could not control his laughter; he fled fearing Palmer would turn on him.

Palmer swore so loudly that Gideon came from the front to quiet him. He swore at Gideon; he did not care if the whole town heard him curse. He had worn his life out to produce the Pilgrim's Progress, and now a darn clod-hopper, a Reuben, a gilly, a jay, had undone the work of a lifetime and made him (Palmer) ridiculous in the eyes of the world. What would people say? What would church people say? They would not pay him for such an exhibition. Would he (Jake) furnish the money to pay the expenses after ruining the business of the panorama?

Jake sat on a box, his eyes following Palmer as he walked from one side of the platform to the other, busying himself all the while with some part of the panorama, never looking toward Jake. Jake's smile was the same, that is around the mouth; but looking more closely you could see an expression in the deep-set blue eyes that betrayed feelings far removed from those which cause smiles.

Palmer concluded his tirade by flinging a hammer on the floor and declaring his belief that the mistakes were the result of a deliberate attempt upon the part of the perpetrator to ruin him. "But I will not be driven away from this work of my life by conspirators."

Jake had but a limited understanding of Palmer's language, yet sufficient of what had been said sifted through his mind to convince him that Palmer had made strong charges against him. Jake, in a tone of voice that would have convinced anyone more reasonable than Palmer, of his sorrow, inquired: "Vot I tid?"

"Vot I tid?" repeated Palmer, imitating Jake. "Vot I tid? Ha! Ha! What didn't you do? From the night we opened it's been one round of breaks and blunders upon your part."

Jake, in open-eyed surprise, repeated: "Breaks? Breaks? Breaks? Vot I breaks?"

Palmer never ceased talking nor noticed Jake's questions. Pointing at Jake, he said: "First you assumed the part of Christian, the most important character to be impersonated. Every schoolboy or girl knows the Christian makes a pilgrimage beginning at the City of Destruction, from which he flees to the Celestial City. He carries a burden, of which he is relieved at the proper time. He is supposed to encounter all sorts of hardships and avoid pitfalls of danger, coming out triumphant at the end of his journey. I ordered you to read the book. Alfred read it and is familiar with every detail; you know nothing, positively nothing."

"Vot I tid?" again demanded Jake, a bit sternly.

"Vot you tid?" and Palmer pretended to tear his hair. "The first night, the first scene, by holding the book you were supposed to be reading, down by your knees, gaping at the audience like a baboon. You rolled over on the floor in the Slough of Despond like a hog wallowing; you throwed your burden in the Slough, then walked in the pond after it. The pond you was supposed to be sinking into, drowning, you walked over it as you would over a lawn or carpeted room, not sinking one inch in it. You gathered up Christian's burden. Instead of replacing it on your back you took it under your arm like a basket; instead of walking as you were directed, towards the Wicket Gate, the Shining Light, you steered straight into the bowels of Hell. Not being satisfied with going to Hell yourself, you so arrange this lift, this platform that, at the very climax of the most beautiful scene in the marvelous exhibition, you send the whole panorama down to the lower story of the building, thus conveying to the audience the idea that we are burlesquing Pilgrim's Progress. Instead of steering for Heaven, steering for Hell! Bah! Every last one in that audience will leave this building with the idea that the entire panorama went to Hell."

Then in an injured, pleading tone, as if scared, Palmer continued: "If this goes ahead of us it will surely ruin our business. I will sell my interest in this show for one-half of what I'd taken yesterday." All this was acting.

Poor Jake was completely confused, dumfounded. Most conscientious, honest and sincere, without deceit, he scarcely knew what to say to explain that he was unfortunate and all that had happened was unavoidable.

He said: "Meester Balmur, I'm werry sorry dot I haf you so much troubles made. I haf neffer toldt you dot I cud do vork as Alfredt und Tom. I cannot speek me plain und I did yust so goot as I cud. I am sorry I kan't exbress my, my, my feelings mit dis ting, but I hope you must exkuse me."

Palmer interrupted: "Oh, well; it's gone beyond my patience to stand it longer. You are an incumbrance, you are a barnacle. I'll sell you my interest in this enterprise and you can go on and run it; this partnership business don't suit me." Palmer ended it by saying: "I'll see you in the morning."

The little party with the panorama were generally quartered with members of the congregation of the church in which the panorama exhibited. In making contracts with the various churches, Palmer, whenever possible, made it a part of the agreement that his people and horses were to be boarded. One family would take Palmer and his wife, another a couple of the others. When Palmer paid their board they were quartered in the meanest, cheapest taverns or boarding houses in the town. At times the company would lodge in a house the owners of which were very poor people who were sorely in need.

It seemed to Alfred the more needy a family appeared, the more insistent Palmer was in forcing pictures, books, etc., upon them. It was a trick of his to hang a picture in the best room, place books on the center table. If they insisted that conditions would not permit enjoying the luxury of the books or pictures, Palmer would become insulting and complain of the quality or quantity of the food.

Alfred and Jake were both so thoroughly ashamed at times they would go elsewhere for their meals.

It happened that, when the trouble came up between Jake and Palmer, the entire party were quartered at a modest little tavern kept by a Pennsylvania Dutchman of large girth and little patience. Palmer had failed to induce him or his good wife, who did all the cooking, to buy pictures or books. "Ve vant no more picturs und ve don't reat der pooks," was the argument with which the old fellow met all of Palmer's solicitations.

After one of their arguments, Palmer, as usual, lost his patience: "What sort of humans are you? You belong to no church. Where are you bound for? Like Jake—hell, I suppose." Then he laughed sarcastically.

"Vell, ve haf got along always in Frostburgh und hell can't be much vorse und if you vant to sell picturs und pooks to pay fur your bordt, you besser stop mit Con Lynch (referring to a rival tavern). Ve don't keep travelers to kepp oudt of hell, ve keep bordters to keep oudt of der poor house."

Palmer answered the old fellow's argument with a reply that he thought humorous: "Well, if I'd thought there was a poorer house in town than yours I'd stopped there."

"Vell, it's not too late, gitt oudt, tam you, pack up your pooks und picturs und gitt oudt purty quick or I'll trow you oudt on der rote."

Palmer, his wife and Gideon, sought quarters at the other tavern; Jake and Alfred remained.

The next day was one of unpleasantness. Palmer never permitted an opportunity to pass that he did not cast slurs at all, Jake in particular. It was evident that Palmer was imbibing more freely than usual. He constantly drank whiskey; he was drinking to excess. Mrs. Palmer cried almost constantly. Gideon was more nervous than usual. He was at Palmer's side constantly; everywhere Palmer went Gideon followed. Long and earnest talks were engaged in, Palmer always obstinate, Gideon pleading. When Palmer left the place where the panorama was on exhibition, Mrs. Palmer stood in or near the door gazing out wistfully until he reappeared; then seat herself in the furthermost part of the room from her husband seemingly desirous of keeping out of his sight.

Alfred finally inquired if he could do anything for her. In a few words she gave him to understand that her husband was of a very excitable nature at intervals, took to drink and continued it until he fell sick. She begged Alfred to have Jake apologize and not to quarrel or cross the man, no matter what provocation he gave them, all of which Alfred promised her. Jake readily agreed to do anything she suggested.

Alfred and Jake retired to their room where Jake took Alfred into his confidence, informing the boy of the circumstances that led to his connection with the panorama. Palmer had an advertisement in a newspaper offering flattering inducements to a man with six hundred dollars. Jake read the advertisement. Palmer visited Jake in answer to his letter. His smooth talk won the honest German. Palmer was very sorry that Jake had not written sooner as he had about concluded a deal with a man in Brownsville and before he could arrange with Jake he must go to Brownsville, see the man and make some sort of an honorable arrangement to relieve him of the promises made. He induced Jake to accompany him to Brownsville. Hence the visit of Palmer and Jake to Alfred's home.

Afterwards Palmer informed Jake that he was compelled to pay Alfred's father two hundred dollars to release him from their agreement. The honest German was thereby convinced that the panorama was a good investment. He persuaded his mother to borrow six hundred dollars, all of which was turned over to Palmer. Jake's understanding was that he was to be paid thirty dollars a week for his team services. Jake was to have charge of all moneys received, the six hundred dollars was to be repaid from profits of the venture. Jake had received to that date forty-one dollars. Drawing a paper from an old fashioned leather purse, passing it to Alfred: "Here iss der writing vot vill tell you how it all iss."

Alfred read and re-read the paper which was in Palmer's handwriting. The legal phraseology was somewhat confusing, but his deductions, were that Jake was to receive thirty dollars a week for the use of the team and his and Bedford Tom's services; that Jake was to handle the money; that he, Jacob Wilson, was to retain six hundred dollars from the profits and that, when the said six hundred dollars had been paid, the terms of the contract had been complied with. Such was Alfred's understanding of the contract.

He became convinced that Palmer had in some way defrauded, or intended to defraud Jake. The fact that Palmer had repeatedly asserted that he could get rid of Jake—he so informed Alfred when urging the son to influence the father to take an interest in the panorama—caused Alfred to feel sure that Jake was being tricked.

Respecting Mrs. Palmer's request and owing to Palmer's condition, Alfred decided to keep the matter quiet for the present. Ending the interview with Jake, he returned the paper to the German with the advice that, when Palmer got off his spree, to take the matter up, have the contract examined by a lawyer.

Although Jake was quiet and undemonstrative, he was no easy man to control when aroused. His limited experience in business, his unsophisticated nature naturally made him suspicious and there was not an hour while he was awake that he did not seek Alfred to talk over the possibilities of Palmer absolutely dropping him without returning any of his money.

The night following that of the scene between Jake and Palmer, after a day that saw Palmer in front of the bar of the tavern at least twenty times, the second exhibition of the panorama began. It was the first town wherein the exhibition failed to attract a larger audience the second night than that which witnessed the first exhibition. The facts were Palmer's condition was apparent to all with whom he came in contact. The talk went over the town that one of the preachers with the show was on a tear and the other one couldn't hold him down. The church people held consultations and it was determined to cancel the third night.

The second exhibition was even more ragged and uneven than the first night. The lift, or platform, did not give way and carry the painted pictures towards the lower regions; "Faithful" made the ascension as scheduled; and the climaxes and tableaux were all more beautifully presented than on the opening night. But the eloquent speeches were delivered by Palmer in a thick-tongued voice; his pronunciation was so imperfect that many of the most beautiful speeches were lost upon the audience. Palmer did not complete his lecture.

All were nervous, all were laboring under great strain. The members of the little party exerted themselves; not one made a mistake, not one forgot a line.

But Palmer, the manager, the proprietor, he who should have been the first in the work, Palmer was drunk, and the Pilgrim's Progress was ruined, insofar as that town was concerned. Palmer had become frenzied the night previous and cried over the excusable blunders of an honest meaning man. Yet tonight he had ruined the entertainment, disgusted all who heard him.

Palmer imagined the performance the most excellent yet given, he so informed all. None had the heart to correct his bewildered imaginings. When Gideon came back and informed him that the church officials would have nothing further to do with the exhibition and that if it were put on the next night they would announce to the town that they were in no way responsible, he defied the church people, swore he would compel them to comply with their contract, that he would show, (he always used the word "show" when he was excited or drunk), the next night and several nights thereafter. He left the scene for the tavern.

Jake and Alfred repaired to their lodgings. A long time after they had retired, a timid rapping on the door aroused them. The door opened, and Gideon and Mrs. Palmer were standing in the hall. The woman's face was the picture of misery; Gideon was in a terrible state of mind.

Palmer had continued his debauch until he was frenzied. Both feared to remain in the house with him; he had attempted to injure both of them. Gideon implored Alfred and Jake to endeavor to calm him; at least, prevent him drinking any more. Jake was loath to go. He had no fear of Palmer but brooded over the abuse the man had heaped upon him—Bedford Tom had fully explained and exaggerated all that Palmer had said and that Jake did not comprehend at the time. Jake, after due deliberation, decided in his mind that if Palmer ever abused him again, and Mrs. Palmer was not near, Palmer would feel the weight of his hand. Therefore Jake thought he had best not trust himself in Palmer's presence.

Loud words could be heard. Alfred trying the door, found it locked. The landlord demanded to know who was there. Alfred informed him that he was a friend of Palmer's and had come to look after him. He was admitted.

Palmer was singing a popular song of the day at the top of his voice, the landlord endeavoring to quiet him. When Alfred caught a glimpse of Palmer he could not resist laughing outright. The man was minus coat, vest and outer shirt, his long, yellow neck, his sharp face with its tuft of beard, the hooked nose, made his head appear like Punch on a stick.

Catching sight of Alfred, Palmer extended his hand and began singing a negro minstrel ditty, cake-walking around the boy several times, his hand extended as if he were inviting the boy to join in his dance.

"Mr. Palmer! Mr. Palmer! It's very late. The folks in the house desire to sleep. Come on with me; come on to your room," pleaded Alfred.

Palmer kept up his singing, keeping time with his feet. Jake appeared. Palmer rushed toward him, threw his arms about him, embraced him, calling him his only friend. "Stick to me, Jake, I'll do the right thing by you. I know you're all right; I am ashamed of myself for cussing you. But—never—mind. Come—on—Jake—come—on. Where's Gideon? I want to give you $600.00. Come on Jake."

Jake held Palmer like a baby, pleading with him to go to bed. Palmer swore he would not leave the room until the landlord gave him another drink. Then he wanted all to drink with him. All declined. Then he wanted to fight the whole crowd.

Alfred and Jake finally pushed and carried Palmer to his room. They deposited him upon the bed and held him there by force until his senses began to leave him. Sleep overcame him and, although he kept up a twitching of the fingers and mutterings, he slept. Alfred and Jake both fell asleep. When Alfred awoke, Palmer still slept. He tiptoed toward Palmer and was more than startled to see Mrs. Palmer seated at the head of the bed, where she had sat all night.

Gideon called the boy and Jake into a conference. It was Gideon's idea that the party leave the town immediately, keep Palmer on the road away from drink until he was completely sobered up. The panorama was dismounted and loaded in the big wagon in less time than ever before. Jake gave the word and they were on their way.

Palmer fretted and fumed the whole journey; Jake did not drive fast enough to please him; he would walk, then ride a short distance; all the while complaining and censuring first one, then another. Jake had not traversed half the day's journey until he became convinced that Palmer's effusive exhibitions of friendship the night previous were prompted by the libations of which he had partaken.

Finally, donning hat and coat Palmer started at a pace so brisk that he was soon a considerable distance in advance of the slow moving wagon. Jake was thoroughly disgusted. At a little distance on he made excuse the harness was broken, and halted the team at least half an hour. Jake, like Alfred, concluded that Palmer would go a little ways and await them.

When Jake resumed the journey he drove the team somewhat faster, prompted to do so by the anxiety of the good woman, who sat by his side straining her eyes, gazing ahead along the white, dusty way. The object she looked for did not come into sight.

The shadows of night began to fall. Jake had the team going at a faster pace than the big wagon had ever sped previously. All eyes looked down the pike ahead of the team; all expected every minute to see Palmer on the road ahead of them.

Gideon broke the painful silence: "Whoa! Whoa! Jake, pull the horses up." Jake obeyed. All turned towards Gideon. "No man could keep ahead of the team the rate we have been going. He couldn't keep ahead of us even if he had run, let alone walked. If Palmer hasn't caught onto someone who is traveling in a buggy or other light vehicle, he has laid down by the roadside and fallen asleep and failed to hear us go by. I will go back and look for him; it's only two miles further to town, you all go on."

All hesitated. Jake then proposed that the wagon halt where it was and all go back seeking Palmer. Jake, Alfred and Bedford Tom retracing their steps, looking on each side of the road as they walked. Every person they met was questioned, but none had noticed a man answering Palmer's description. Inquiry was made at every farm house.

Finally a traveler on horseback informed the searchers that a man answering the description of Palmer was seated on the driver's seat of the stage coach going west.

The three retraced their steps and gave Gideon and the wife the information gained. Driving into Hancock, Gideon, who was best informed as to the lines of travel, decided he would take the train for Cumberland and ascertain there as to whether Palmer had been a passenger on the stage coach. Later in the evening news came that a stranger had been discovered by the roadside dead. To attempt to describe the misery of the wife would be impossible, and to aggravate the situation, to still more deeply aggrieve the trouble laden woman, a letter came with the news that one of their children was very ill at home.

Jake and Alfred mounted the horses and rode to the point where the dead man was found. They arrived previous to the coroner; the body had not been removed. It was a lonely place on the pike. Two or three country folk stood near the fence, recounting for the tenth time the circumstances attending the discovery of the body. The darkness, the presence of death, were surroundings to which Alfred was not accustomed.

The body lay about twenty yards from the road under a big tree. As they climbed the fence and faced towards the spot, a stench met their nostrils. They looked at each other. Jake was the first to recover his speech: "Phew! If dot's Bolmur, he iss spiled werry queek."

Alfred reclimbed the fence. Jake looked over the dead man and remarked: "It don'dt look more like Bolmur as you do." Mounting their horses they were soon back at the tavern. The wife gazed appealingly at them as they entered, and, in a trembling voice, asked: "No news?"

"No, it vasn't him, he iss been dedt a veek or two." Jake spoke as if disappointed that the dead man was not Palmer.

Later, Alfred was lying on the bed laughing, Jake, looking at him with a smile which spoke inquisitiveness more plainly than he could have articulated the word, inquired: "Vot you laffin at? You laff like a tam fool. It makes me feel like a tam fool, too; I kan't tell but vot you iss laffin at my back."

This only brought more laughter. Finally, Jake began laughing also. "I see, you iss laffin becos I toldt Mrs Bolmur dot de dedt man vos spildt."

"Why, Jake, the manner in which you gave the news to her sounded as if we were disappointed that the dead man was not Palmer."

Jake arose, walked over to Alfred, his face assuming a serious aspect: "It's a werry great bitty for der poor heart-broken-down woman dot it was not Bolmur."

Gideon telegraphed from Cumberland that Palmer was there; that he would arrive on the next train. Jake and Alfred had the panorama all set. Night came on and neither Gideon nor Palmer had arrived. No train was scheduled to arrive until midnight. Mrs. Palmer was too nervous, too ill to give any advice or to even offer a suggestion.

"Could she play the music as usual if they went on with the exhibition?" "Yes, she would get a cup of tea and be ready for her part of the work."

Alfred arranged with the son of one of the church members to take charge of the financial end. Jake said he could do the part of Christian and he was sure that he would not make any mistakes.

The church was crowded. Alfred had assured himself a thousand times that he could go through the whole dialogue. He was correct but there was quite a difference in the delivery of the impassioned speeches; the weak voice of an amateurish schoolboy could not impress the auditors as would that of an elocutionist with a deep musical voice.

The panorama did not give its usual satisfaction although Jake, to his credit, went through his part without a mistake. But he did so in such an awkward, halting way, that it seemed like anything but a character to excite sympathy; in fact, his fall into the Slough of Despond was so clumsy that he injured one of his knees. All the while he was rolling about, supposed to be sinking, he was holding his knee in both hands and crying: "By yimminy crickitts, Uh! Uh!"

People sitting near the platform were tittering and laughing.

Gideon and Palmer arrived sometime during the night. Gideon was up and about early. He advised that Palmer would be all right by night.

Gideon appeared more ill at ease than Alfred had ever seen him. Back of the scenes was Palmer so drunk he could barely articulate. He looked at Jake and Alfred as they entered and said: "I—can't—work—tonight; go—on—with—the—performance. I'm going—to—bed." With this he stretched himself out on the floor. Jake and Alfred gathered him up and laid him none too gently to one side of the stage.

Confusion or some evil spirit awakened Palmer. He walked out into the auditorium. Sitting near his wife, he attracted the attention of many of the audience by giving orders, not only to his wife but in one or two instances he shouted at Alfred. This so completely unnerved the wife that she actually made mistakes in the music cues. This confused all and the exhibition was terribly marred.

The minister of the church was outraged. He ordered the panorama removed at once and Palmer ejected. The town marshal escorted Palmer out.

Alfred was so angry at the tantalizing remarks Palmer had cast at him from the audience that he did not dare trust himself near the man. He warned Jake: "If that Palmer speaks to me I will slap his face until it is as red as he made mine."

The marshal, through Gideon's pleadings, did not lock Palmer up but carried him to the tavern. Gideon placed him in bed and returned to the church to escort the wife to the tavern.

When Alfred and Jake appeared, Gideon was pleading with Palmer to go to his room. Palmer was demanding drink, the landlord informed him that he sold no drink nor would he permit drink carried into his house.

Alfred, ashamed of the man, walked out on the sidewalk. Palmer forced his way out, Gideon feebly holding him. Palmer gave the feeble old man a push that would have sent him headlong into the gutter had Alfred not caught him. Alfred stood Gideon on his feet.

Palmer backed off a pace or two, bowing and feinting as if to fight. He cried mockingly: "Who, who art thou? What kind of meat does this, our Caesar feed upon that he should thus command us?" Putting up his hands prize-fighter fashion, he sparred towards Alfred. He made pass after pass as if to strike the boy who stood motionless, permitting Palmer's fists to fly by his face without moving or dodging.

Whether through Alfred's passiveness or by mistake, one of Palmer's fists landed square on the nose of Alfred. The red blood spurted over his shirt front. Before Jake or Gideon could interfere, Alfred had the man by the coat collar raining open handed slaps on his face, slaps that so resounded they could be heard above the confusion and bustle of the encounter.

Palmer had become as a madman. Seizing Alfred's arm in his teeth, sinking them into the flesh, he held on like a bulldog. The blows Alfred rained on the man's face had no effect on him and it was only when beaten into insensibility that the jaws relaxed.

The light was dim on the outside and those near by did not realize that Palmer was biting the boy. The severe punishment he meted out to Palmer did not meet with the approval of many. However, after they were separated and Alfred exposed his lacerated arm the talk turned the other way: "He did not give him half enough."

The landlord sent for a doctor; the arm was treated. Mrs. Palmer assisted in binding up the wound. Alfred felt so humiliated he scarcely knew how to thank her. He requested the doctor to go up and see Palmer, but the good wife had attended to his injuries.

Palmer, his wife and Gideon, decided to travel to the next stop by train. All day on the road Jake and Alfred were debating as to the course they would pursue. Jake was inclined to demand a settlement at once. Alfred persuaded him to hold off until he heard from home, then he would endeavor to collect the amount due his father, and if Jake desired to travel, he, Alfred, would organize a minstrel show and they would go on the road right.

The panorama was set. Gideon was at the church but Mrs. Palmer and her husband had not put in an appearance. Alfred ran out to the door to inquire of Gideon as to whether Palmer would be on hand. Gideon assured him that the husband and wife had left their lodgings with him and should be at the church at the present time.

Alfred ran back to the panorama. As he passed behind the curtain he came face to face with Palmer. A badly bruised, black and blue face was that into which the boy gazed. He was strongly inclined to take the man by the hand and beg his forgiveness.

Jake, when advised of Alfred's feelings, said: "Vait, you kan't tell, he may make your forgiveness. It iss his place to do der beggin'; don't you make vrendts mit him till he askts you to."

Palmer worked as effectually as if nothing had occurred, although his voice was unsteady at times and slightly hoarse. Palmer kept out of view of the audience. Alfred never worked so effectually, although his arm pained him constantly. Mrs. Palmer seemed in better spirits than for a long time.

Gideon reported Professor Palmer had met with a painful accident in the last town and could not be seen—this was Gideon's statement to all inquiries for Palmer. The next morning ladies called at the tavern with flowers. The minister called; he talked to Palmer until the panorama man was so nervous he coaxed Gideon to get him whiskey.

The next night Palmer was at the church early. He was particularly deferential to Jake and Alfred. Anything they said or did he acquiesced in. Mrs. Palmer seemed like a different woman. A letter bringing good news from the sick child was ascribed by Jake and Alfred as the cause of her cheerfulness.

Gideon lingered at the church after the performance. Jake asked for one hundred dollars to be paid on the morrow. Gideon advised that the order must come from Palmer ere he could pay out the money. Jake answered: "I vill see Mr. Bolmur aboudt it early tomorrow."

Gideon begged that Jake defer it: "Palmer is just getting back to himself; if he gets excited he may go to drinking again."

"If he does ve know how to kure him, jes give him a tam goot trashing; dot's vot vill kure him. Heh, Alfredt?"

Gideon carried the news to Palmer that Alfred and Jake had combined and at any time they saw him look toward liquor they intended to give him a thrashing. Whether Gideon understood this to be the attitude of Alfred and Jake toward Palmer or whether he used the threat to deter the drunkard, is not certain. Its effect was to so embitter Palmer that he set about getting rid of Jake at once.

Mrs. Palmer was assured by Alfred that no such threat had ever been indulged in by Jake or himself.

After he had exhausted all subterfuges, Palmer grudgingly gave Jake the one hundred dollars.

Alfred was behind the scenes of the panorama dressing his sore arm. He had been thus occupied for some time when Palmer and Gideon entered and resumed a conversation they had evidently begun previously. Gideon seemed in doubt and fearful: "But how will you manage to get rid of him?" was the question he put to Palmer.

"You leave that to me and don't you give him any more money; stand pat the next time he approaches you."

"But he is a partner in the concern. If he went to law he could compel you to make an accounting from the time we began."

"What do you think I am?" and Palmer looked at Gideon in disgust. "Don't imagine for one moment of your innocent, unnecessary life that I would sell a Reuben like Jake or anyone else a third interest in this panorama for six hundred dollars. Jake has no interest excepting in the profits until he is paid six hundred dollars. After the six hundred dollars is paid he has no further claim upon me. I could pay him six hundred dollars and kick him out today, or if the panorama did not make six hundred dollars this tour he would get nothing."

"Well, it's best you pay Jake the six hundred dollars and get rid of him honestly," answered Gideon.

"I'll get rid of him. It's a hell of a nice business to carry two men with you that threaten if you don't carry yourself straight they will thrash you. I am justified in doing anything to free myself and the law will uphold me in it."

"Well, you will be compelled to get another man if you dispense with Alfred," urged Gideon.

"Oh, I can run into Baltimore and get a dozen people if I want to. However, I'd like to keep the boy; he's useful and you can trust him. But he's the damndest, greenest kid that I ever met to have had the experience he has."

"Well, he's a pretty good boy. He did all your work the night you were not here and your wife says he did it well; the boy has talent."

"Talent, hell! That's not talent; that's nerve. That's why I say he's green. Did he ever say anything to you about his arm where I bit him?" inquired Palmer.

"No; only to say it was pretty sore."

"Why the dam little fool could shook me down for all I had in the world, mayhem is a penal offence in Maryland. That's why I say he's green. I skinned his daddy out of nearly two hundred dollars. He imagines he will get it when we go to Brownsville. I'll keep this trick so dam far away from that town a crow couldn't fly to me in a week."

Alfred had a mind to walk out on the man and declare himself, but he held his peace. He sought Jake and together they consulted an attorney. Alfred's father would be compelled to bring suit where the debt was contracted, get judgment, send the transcript on before the debt could be collected. Jake did not own any of the panorama proper; his agreement gave him one-third of the profits until he was paid the sum of six hundred dollars and thirty dollars a week as hire for his team.

Alfred did not believe Palmer would do anything at once; he concluded that the talk he had overheard was of the same character as that which Palmer had indulged in so often previously.

Alfred was in bed; Jake sat by the window buried in thought. Finally Jake muttered: "To hell mit dis bizness, I vish I vas back at my home in Bedfordt." After musing in silence for some time, he muttered: "To hell mit Palmer; to hell mit Gideon; to hell mit everything but der panorama." Jake mused a few minutes. Rising to undress, he said defiantly: "To hell mit der panorama."

The following day Jake asked for an accounting. Palmer endeavored to put him off. "How much uv dis panorama I own?" asked Jake.

"Oh, Jake, what's the matter with you? You know what our contract is. Come now, you're an intelligent man, let's do business on business principles. I'll have Gideon balance the books by Sunday."

"I vant dem balanced today; my condract says dat I am der vun dots to handle der money; maybe I take holdt tonight."

Palmer became frightened. Gideon furnished Jake a statement showing the profits to be six hundred dollars and a few cents over. As Jake understood the contract he was to receive one-third of the profits, this would entitle him to $200, one hundred of which he had received.

Jake immediately demanded another hundred dollars. Palmer pleaded that he had sent his money away. Jake was obdurate. Palmer finally produced the amount.

Jake demanded that he have access to the books; both Palmer and Gideon demurred, but Jake was again triumphant. However, nothing that favored Jake was learned from them.

HAGERSTOWN, MD.

DEAR MUZ:

Your letter to hand. Pap will never get his money from Palmer. He is never going to Brownsville or near there. I heard him tell Gideon, Pap was a Reuben and he had skinned him out of two hundred dollars. And Pap needn't deny it to you.

This man is awful; he will cheat anybody. I had to lick him, he nearly bit my arm off. I nearly beat his head off; it was the only way to get loose. I can't tell you all I know in one letter. Let Pap sue for his account, send the transcript on and I'll get it or I'll know why. He'll not get a chance to bite if I go at him again.

I went out to your old home yesterday; they're real nice people. I found the room where I cut my name on the walnut window frame, it's nearly rubbed out. The house looks natural but the garden and flowers are not like grandmother kept them. All the old people asked about Grandpap, Uncle John and Uncle Jake.

Stir Pap up. If I come home, I'll write you before I do.

Your affectionate son, ALFRED GRIFFITH HATFIELD.

P. S. Jake's written agreement is a fraud. If Pap has an agreement with Palmer, it's a fraud too, don't go by it. Do as I tell you, I know what's best. You'll learn law if you travel with a panorama.

The next move, to Winchester, was a long journey. One of Jake's horses having been sick, Palmer advised a day or two previously that the panorama and people, excepting Bedford Tom and Jake, would travel by train, thus relieving the team. He also promised Jake a payment on the profits at the end of the week. As an evidence of good faith he advanced Jake a week's wages.

Jake wanted Alfred to make the journey with him in the wagon, but Palmer became offended: "What do you people want to do, get rid of the work of preparation? I should take Bedford Tom with me also but I will permit him to go with you for company, but not Alfred."

Palmer gave all directions as to the roads as he always did. In fact, he cautioned Jake more particularly than usual. He also left orders that a dinner be put up for Jake and Tom to carry with them. Palmer arose early to see Jake off and again cautioned him not to lose his way.

Gideon, Palmer, the wife and Alfred boarded the train. They were to change cars at Harper's Ferry. But Alfred took the train for Winchester, Gideon excitedly calling him to take the other train. "But that train goes to Washington, the man said so," pleaded Alfred.

"Get aboard, quick," shouted Gideon, as he jumped on the moving train.

Alfred ran into the train to Palmer. "Don't we go to Winchester?" he inquired. "Not until next month," answered Palmer.

"Where's Jake and the team going?" asked Alfred. "They told me they were going to Winchester."

Palmer gave a little forced laugh: "Jake was your friend, was he not? I thought so at least. Didn't you regard him as your friend?" inquired Palmer.

"Of course I did," answered Alfred.

Palmer looked at Gideon: "I told you there was something behind this. Didn't I tell you so, eh?"

Gideon seemed undecided; he both nodded and shook his head. Palmer threw one limb over the other and rubbed his dirty hands together. "It was like this: Jake was a partner of mine. We've been having trouble for some time past. Yesterday he accepted a proposition of mine on condition that I was not to mention it to you. He stated you were friends but he did not desire to go into the minstrel business. He feared if you learned he had received his money from me you would be after him hot-foot to invest in a minstrel show."

Alfred's face flushed. He did not deny that he and Jake had conversed many times regarding a minstrel show; Jake seemed greatly interested in it. Alfred fell for Palmer's plausible story. Palmer exhibited that which he claimed was a clear receipt from Jake.

When the party arrived in Washington Alfred was so taken up with the thousand and one places of interest, he took note of nothing save sight-seeing.

Lodging at a little hotel on a side street, Palmer had not been seen for a day or two. To Alfred's inquiry, Gideon mumbled something about new people.

Mrs. Palmer became more anxious-looking every day. Alfred overheard Gideon mention Pharoah to the wife. Alfred connected the Biblical character of that name with the remark. Thinking the matter over he remembered hearing Palmer oftentimes refer to losses or gains at Pharoah. He finally connected it with some sort of a game and made bold to ask Gideon what Palmer had done about old Pharoah. Gideon, with a surprised look, asked how he knew Palmer was sitting in.

"Oh, I heard he was after old Pharoah."

"You've got the pronunciation wrong but the facts right. Palmer was one thousand ahead of the game. I begged him to cash in but that's the way with all who play faro. He didn't know enough to quit the game when he had velvet in front of him."

Palmer had lost all his money but the little savings of his wife. Gideon had a few dollars, but that went also. Alfred had twenty-nine dollars which he refused to loan Palmer. The landlord finally yielded to the arguments of Palmer and Gideon and agreed to permit the baggage to be taken to the depot and, with the panorama, shipped to the next town; he, the landlord, to accompany them until his claims were paid.

The party were off their route. No previous arrangements had been made. None of the religious denominations in the town could be induced to take an interest in the panorama. Finally, the courthouse was secured by rental, but without the influence of the church people, the receipts were not fifty per cent of what they usually were, so Palmer repeatedly stated. The hotel man had to advance money to move the company to the next place of exhibition.

Here the receipts again fell short of the expenses. The hotel man sent home for money finally. Thoroughly disgusted, the hotel man left the party with Palmer's note endorsed by Gideon. He requested Alfred's endorsement also. That gentleman remembered Sammy Steele's advice and very politely declined to attach his signature to the paper. Palmer insisted that Alfred endorse the note, arguing: "It's only a matter of form; I'll take up this note within two weeks." But Alfred did not sign.

Later on, Alfred overheard Palmer cussing Gideon's lax business methods: "Since you have been a missionary you don't know enough to top broom-corn. I told you to hold out everything on that hotel guy and you made him put up only thirteen dollars."

It developed that there were no losses while the hotel man was with the panorama. Palmer made it appear there was in order to get rid of the man.

Alfred wrote Jake a sarcastic letter advising that he thought it would have been more gentlemanly to have informed him of his dislike of the minstrel business instead of talking to Palmer. "I assisted you in every way and I thought you were my friend."

No reply came. "Jake was ashamed to answer," was the conclusion reached by Alfred.

Disgusted with Palmer, homesick, offended at his folks that they did not reply to his letter, he resolved to write no more but next pay day leave the panorama and go home. He so informed Palmer. Palmer's arguments had no effect upon him. Finally Mrs. Palmer persuaded him to remain until they could secure someone to take his place, promising to do so at the first opportunity.

"If it's not too long I'll hold out but I want to go home; I'm homesick."

Mrs. Palmer covered her face with her hands as she cried: "If there is a more distressing feeling than a longing for home I pray to God no one will ever suffer as I have. I've been homesick for years."

Palmer sneered and sarcastically granted her permission to go home at any time she wished. "You and Alfred better go home together." Alfred felt like slapping the man and would have done so had not his wife been present.

Palmer greatly interested the family with whom they were boarding. His long prayers at family worship and his eloquent talk completely captivated the entire family including two fine young men. Alfred the last day of their stay found Palmer rehearsing the elder of the two boys, the younger holding the prompter's book. Later Alfred overheard Palmer assure the old gentleman the panorama was the best money making and the most refined exhibition ever devised.

Two days later the old gentleman, his two boys and another gentleman arrived in the town where the panorama was on exhibition. The report became generally circulated that the panorama had been sold to the old man for his sons. Gideon was to remain as long as they desired his services. Alfred was also a part of the sale. Palmer advised the buyers that Alfred knew as much about the panorama as himself. Alfred very promptly informed the old gentleman that he could not remain longer. This held up the sale. Palmer coaxed, begged and implored the boy to remain with the panorama. He assured the purchasers his only reason for disposing of the panorama was his wife's health. She had been separated from her children for two years, she was a nervous wreck. He had to make the sacrifice no matter what the consequences—his wife's happiness came first. The wife's appearance more than corroborated Palmer's statement.

Finally he offered Alfred one hundred dollars to remain until the new owners learned the way of running the exhibition. Alfred's answer was: "You owe my father two hundred dollars."

"I do not, I owe him only a hundred and ninety dollars," contradicted Palmer.

"Pay my father and I'll stay."

Palmer replied: "I always intended to pay your father; I'll pay him whether you stay or not."

"When will you pay him?" asked Alfred.

"As soon as I get my money from these people."

"Will you give it to me for him?"

"No, I will not. I will pay him as I promised. Your father is not worrying about his money. We're going to paint a panorama in partnership. I expect to be in Brownsville inside of a month, just as soon as I can settle my wife at home."

Alfred agreed to remain. The sale was made, and Alfred was paid one hundred dollars. He wrote the folks at home detailing all the changes, advising that Palmer would be in Brownsville soon to paint a panorama.

Alfred remained two weeks. The new people hired an actor to take his place. They did not do well with the panorama, Gideon remained but a short time after Alfred left.

* * * * *

Palmer forgot to pay Alfred's father; he also forgot to visit Brownsville. Years afterwards Alfred met Palmer. He was painting, he was an artist, so he stated. He looked like a vagrant; there was not much change in his face, only a little more weather beaten, the lines and wrinkles deeper, the eyes more dull and his hands more dirty.

He advised Alfred that he had a contract and the work was partly done, but he could not draw any money until it was completed. "Now Alfred, you know me, you know how I have struggled, you know how the world has been against me. But I'll come back; I'll come into my own. I've got a scheme and I am working it out and it will be a winner. It will put me on Easy Street all the rest of my days."

Alfred knew all of this talk was leading up to a "touch." Alfred had mellowed in his feelings. He had sympathy for the outcast but felt he did not care to waste any charity on the man. He was figuring rapidly mentally: "I will buy him clothing and give him a small sum of money, that's all."

"Now you know my ability to earn money," continued Palmer, "and you know my family. I want you to do me a favor." ("The 'touch' is coming," thought Alfred, "I'll have to give him $20 at least.") "Now, don't refuse me. I will have money as soon as this job is done, and I'll send it to you; I don't want you to give me nothing. I want you to loan it to me. Now Alfred, don't go back on me."

"Well, business is none too good and I have heavy expenses and calls like yours every day. How much do you want?" cautiously inquired Alfred.

"Loan me a dollar," pleaded Palmer.

Alfred handed the man two dollars with a sigh of relief, crediting himself with eighteen. "Where are Mrs. Palmer and Gideon?" asked Alfred.

"Oh, Gideon died years ago. He hadn't nothing to live for; he just laid down and died. Mrs. Palmer is at home; I've got a fine home. The children—oh, one of them married a big orange grove man in California and the other is with her mother."

Alfred afterwards learned that Gideon was dead; that the contract Palmer was working on was decorating mirrors in bar-rooms. Mrs. Palmer was living with relatives. Palmer had not contributed to her support in years. One of the girls was cashier in a store in Kansas City, the other a nurse in a sanatarium.

Palmer died of alcoholic dementia only a year or two ago.

Jake is living in Bedford; he began where he left off—on the farm. When Alfred met Jake he summed up his panorama experience thusly: "Balmur cheated us all; he cheated everybody und got no good oudt uv it. He stoled the letters I wrote you und made you badt frednts mit me. But it iss all gone now and so iss Balmur. I dond't know vich vay he iss gone. He sed I valked straight into hell mit der panorama; I hope he valks straight oudt of it. If he does get in I'll bet dey haff a hard yob to keep him dere; he neffer stays no place long; und I'll bet dey'll be gladt ven he leaves—dat iss if he makes es much troubles in hell as he didt mit der panorama."

It is not necessary to state that Palmer sent Jake to a place he never intended visiting with the panorama. Jake, confused and deceived, made his way home.



CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Something each day—a smile, It is not much to give, But the little gifts of life Make sweet the days we live.

The world appears different to different persons; to one it is dull, to another bright. Contentment has much to do with it. The pleasant and interesting happenings crowded into the life of one being may arouse envy in another.

The man of genius, the man of imagination will note things in the every-day trend of human affairs that will enrich his memory, store it with wisdom. The man of dulled faculties will never see things in this world as does he who is of a higher intelligence. Two men may travel in a country strange to them, their impressions of the customs, habits of the people, conditions and appearances of the land, will be widely different.

After Alfred's return from the tour with the panorama he became the Sir Oracle of the town. The shoe-shops of Frank McKernan and Nimrod Potts were the gathering places of those who came to hear the stories that Alfred had collected in his travels. Previously the atmosphere of the two shoe-shops had been different. McKernan's shop was the gathering place of those who lived under the teachings of Thomas Jefferson, they were Democrats; the audiences at Pott's shop had formerly been composed of abolitionists.

Nimrod Potts had been an avowed abolitionist.

A change had come over him, politically at least. From a rabid abolitionist he had changed to a dignified Democrat, nor was it lust for office that wrought the change—that unholy feeling which influenced Horace Greeley, who was Potts' political god. Greeley, after twenty-five years of vituperation and personal abuse, such as was never before applied to opponent by political writer, denouncing those who were opposed to his opinions, as representing all that was of vice and violence, crawled to those he had abused for years begging their votes, willing to pretend to espouse their principles to attain office. Horace Greeley's seeking and accepting a Presidential nomination did more to discredit partisan journalism in this country than all other causes combined since the establishment of the Republic.

Dr. Patton, a clean cut man, was the Democratic nominee for Burgess (mayor) of Brownsville. The Doctor was slightly aristocratic in his bearing, and a number of his own party were dissatisfied with his candidacy, although a nomination on the Democratic ticket was equivalent to election. Nimrod Potts was the nominee of the Republican, radical and abolition element; no one imagined Potts had a living chance of election.

The times were propitious for the elevation to office of those of humble origin. Andrew Johnson, a tailor, was then President (by accident). The argument was used, "Why not elevate Nimrod Potts, the cobbler, to the highest office within the gift of the electorate of Brownsville?"

Alfred had unconsciously boosted the candidacy of Potts by publicly announcing that he had visited the tailor shop of Andrew Johnson while in Greenville, Tenn., and that the shoe-shop of Nimrod Potts in Brownsville was much larger and more pretentious than the tailor shop of the man who was then President; and since the qualification for holding or seeking office in those days seemed to be graduation from some sort of a shop, Potts' claims should be considered.

Whether it was this statement or the vagaries that at times influence the minds of voters, Potts was elected.

It is a peculiarity of human nature that people neglect little bills—bar bills, cobbling bills, etc. Now every man in Brownsville did not run bar bills, but every man wore shoes (except in summer). Nimrod Potts had a list of names in the debtor column of his book embracing some of the best known men and hardest men on shoes in town.

When Nimrod instituted what he considered needed reforms in the judiciary system, certain ones of the borough's citizenship—although they had never heard of the Recall—Brownsville had not advanced that far toward Socialism as yet—instituted proceedings in the county court, impeaching Potts. He was removed from office. Those who instituted the ouster proceedings were Republicans. Alfred's Uncle William, who was judge of the court, was a Democrat.

Potts evidently reasoned that it was but natural that a Democratic judge should decide to remove him, but to be assailed by his own party was too much for even his fealty. Hence he proclaimed himself a Democrat and was received with open arms by that party.

The causes that led up to the removal of Nimrod Potts as Burgess of Brownsville are recorded in history. However, the reader may have failed to note this famous "causus bellus" or forgotten it. In expounding the law two points were always kept in view by Burgess Potts—the Constitution of the United States and his cobbling accounts. If either the plaintiff or defendant were indebted to the cobbler, justice was meted out as the law required, with the addition of the amount due for cobbling. The cobbling bill was always added to the costs. If both parties to the case were indebted to the judge the law was bent to apply to the assessing of costs with the cobblers' bills added.

Potts felt the honor that Alfred had conferred upon him in likening him to Andrew Johnson. The gatherings at Potts' shop, of which Alfred was the center of attraction, became more conspicuous than the assemblages at McKernan's. As may be inferred there was bitter rivalry between the two shoe-makers.

It was not long ere doubts were expressed as to the correctness of the word pictures Alfred painted of the country and its people through which he had journeyed while with the panorama. Some folks who had emigrated to Brownsville from Virginia and Maryland could not remember anything of the scenes that Alfred described. Others remembered just such things as he pictured.

Barney Barnhart, who was from Shepperdstown, not only verified Alfred's stories relative to the section where he formally resided but actually bettered some of them.

Alfred was in high repute. He had regained all the prestige lost through his unfortunate connection with Eli. Working for his father by day, relating his panorama exploits by night, he was leading an exemplary life. Some folks ascribed his changed ways to the great moral uplift of the panorama. Uncle Ned gave Palmer credit for the reformation of the boy. Consequently they held Palmer in highest estimation. Alfred had not uttered one word derogatory to Palmer to anyone as yet. He was secretly hoping Palmer would put in an appearance and paint another panorama, that he might get control of it. He felt riches awaited anyone who possessed a panorama.

Even when Alfred pushed a large pumpkin in the round hole of the chimney on Potts' shoe-shop, smoking out the largest gathering to which he had ever described "The Pilgrim's Progress" as shown in panorama—while the auditors stood on the outside of the shop fanning the smoke from their faces with their hats, Alfred, Phoenix-like, stood in the middle of the shoe-shop reciting Palmer's lecture. Alfred was never suspected of smoking his audience out. Instead Potts hiked across the street to Jake Sawyer's grocery and accused Jimmy Edminston of smoking out the temple of justice.

Alfred's talks and recitals aroused considerable interest in John Bunyan's work, "The Pilgrim's Progress." Many were the arguments over the propriety of the work as presented by Palmer's panorama.

Lin said: "Fur the life of me I kan't figger out how Bunyan hed ever hoped thet Christian would turn out good after the load saddled on his shoulders an' the trubles he wus sent through. Why, the devil wouldn't try tu win anyone by abusin' 'em thet way. I do not blame Jake fur kickin' over the traces an' takin' the wrong path, kos I'd jes soon gone tu hell as some uv the places they sent Christian tu."

It was explained to Lin that the book was written as an allegory and the sufferings were to try Christian's faith.

"Allegery or Perregary, I don't kur which. It's jes es bad es burnin' peepul tu deth tu make 'em Christians. Besides, I don't think much uv Christian nohow, the book shows he run away, an' left his wife an' two childrun."

However, it was generally admitted that the panorama had greatly benefited Alfred. Sammy Johnson was no longer teased by him; Alfred even assured him that the Presbyterian Church would soon have a bell and he would be employed to ring it. Ringing a church bell was Sammy's hallucination. Alfred could even enter Johnny Tunstall's grocery, as he no longer shouted "Wrang hule" at the old gentleman. Alfred no longer associated with his former companions, but was more often seen with Teddy Darwin, John LeClair and other good boys.

The Civil War, the Presidential campaign, the fight between the rival steamboat lines, had kept old Brownsville pretty well stirred up for several years, but nothing equaling the excitement caused by the campaign between Potts and Patton had ever been experienced in the old town. Torch-light processions were the popular way of arousing enthusiasm. It was the general belief in those days that the fellow who carried the biggest blaze in the procession was the fellow of most importance. Nowadays it's the fellow who buys the oil and sits on the porch and watches the procession go by.

Cousin Albert was an ardent adherent of the Potts faction. Alfred's father was just as strong for Patton. The father was well disposed toward Albert but he was very much disgusted with Albert's fondness for torch-light processions, particularly when Albert bore a transparency on which was painted, in crude letters, a motto most offensive to Patton men.

The father more than once intimated that Alfred was a very dull boy in some respects. "He can play practical jokes on people who should be exempt, and jokes in which no one but Alfred could see the humor. But there's Albert, who has laid himself liable to have any sort of a joke played upon him, goes Scott free."

Therefore Alfred fancied any joke perpetrated upon Cousin Albert must be pretty strong or the father would stamp it as inane and without humor.

Handbills advertised there would be a parade of the Potts club and the route was given. Alfred knew that Cousin Albert would be at the head of the marchers, bearing a very large transparency, with an offensive motto painted by his father's competitor, Jeffries.

Alfred procured a piece of duck canvas, water proof, about one yard square. Repairing to the Bowman's pasture lot where the cows spent the night near the gate, Alfred, with a scoop shovel, filled the canvas with a half bushel or more of fertilizer. He carried it to Sammy Steele's old tan house where he had once carried food to the exiles. An old finishing table stood under a window from which the sash had long since disappeared. One standing on the table at the opening was six or seven feet higher than the narrow street below.

Drums were beating, the procession was coming, the candle torches showed the parade turning Hogg's corner off Market Street; they were coming toward the old tan-yard. Alfred stood at the window with the canvas containing the mass of fertilizer. As the head of the parade came opposite he could see Cousin Albert outlined against the white-washed fence on the opposite side of the street. Swinging the package a time or two to give it momentum, as one does a club, Alfred loosened his hold on three corners of the canvas. The mess slid out as he had planned it would. He aimed all of it at Cousin Albert.

Alfred was pretty sure aim generally, but he had not experimented with the sort of ammunition he was using on this occasion; he was not familiar with its scattering qualities. Alfred did not have time to either see or hear how his aim had affected Cousin Albert. There was an angry confusion of yells and curses extending down the line of march. Alfred felt sure that something awful had happened.

"Catch him! Hang him!" There was a shuffling of feet in the darkness. Those at the head of the procession had dropped their torches. Alfred's joke on Cousin Albert had spread to some twenty others; in fact, all in line opposite the window were included in the joke.

There was a rush for the old tan-house. Alfred flew. Down the stairs, over the fence, through the widow Cunningham's, across the street, through Captain Cox's yard and into his home, the thoroughly frightened boy fled.

Pete Keifer, who had been in the army, a ninety day man, one of the first to go to the front at the call of duty, one of the first to leave for home after Bull Run, was most vehement in his threats on the lives of those who had broken up the torch light procession. Keifer's hearing was undoubtedly affected by the two pound lump that struck him in the ear, and some scattering. Sammy Rowland's white shirt front caught a cluster as large as a saucer. His wife said she had a feeling something was going to happen when he put on a biled shirt on a week day.

Aaron Todd, who wore a set of whiskers that would have sent him to the Senate had he lived in Kansas, carried home concealed in his whiskers a pound or so of Alfred's joke.