Humour.

Poverty Bay Standard, Volume X, Issue 1175, 14 October 1882, Page 4 (Supplement)

Humour.

TWO REAL KIND LANDLORDS. “ Just at tho close of the great Cotton Exposition at Atlanta, Ga.,” said he, “ 1 happened one davto be dining with a friend at Markham House, when that man came in. Tho day was wet and disagreeable, and he wore a huge ulster overcoat, the skirts of which nearly reached his heels. He left tho overcoat in the cloak-room and came into the dining hall attired as neatly as you see him now. I happened to be standing near the door when he finished liis dinner, and saw him endeavour to pass the clerk, who, on account of the crowded condition of the house, had been placed there to take up tickets or cash. The clerk was too quick for him, and, after a good deal of talk, the man admitted that hclittd no money, and the clerk, who was in no charitable mood, suggested that some portion of his fine apparel would stand good for the price of his dinner. * All right,’ said the man, * you may have my pants, if you won’t take my word that 1 will pay you to-morrow.’ Tho offer was accepted at once, and a few minutes later the man with tho big ulster left the cloak-room with his overcoat buttoned closely about him, and his pants apparently rolled up a few inches to kee|> them out of the mud."

“ You may call this much chapter one, for learned the balance of the story in a confidential way on my next visit to Atlanta. One afternoon, perhaps alxtut the same date as the above incident, a man answering the description of the one you see down there, entered tho other hotel, the Kimball . House, and registered in the usual way. He informed the clerk that he was not feeling well, did not want any supper, and would Ixj glad to have a room at once. Quite early the next morning the electric alarm connected with the room to which tho stranger had been assigned seemed to bo unduly agitated. A boy was at once sent up, and returned, saying that the man up there was raising tho devil about somebody robbing him, and wanted to see tho proprietor immediately. Homo thief had stolen his pants and all tho money ho had about him. The boy hunted up Mr. Scoville as soon as possible, and it took that gentleman a good half hour to calm down his guest, and persuade him to accept a new pair of pants and say nothing about it. * Keep quiet, my dear sir, only keep quiet,’ begged Mr. Scoville; ‘ my house is full of people, most of them having money and valuables about them, and if this were to get out, it would empty the place in a day.’ After a time, the new pants arrived, and, as Scoville came down stairs with the man before breakfast, they first walked into the office, where 50c., the amount claimed to have been in the stolen pants, was counted out and placed in the latter’s hand, with tho request, many times repeated, ‘ Don’t say anything about this, for Heaven’ssake.’

“ About ten o’clock the same morning, as it was afterwards learned, the gentleman who had dined at the Markham House on the day previous, camo into the office of that hotel, and, with a withering glance at the clerk, handed him $l, and called for a bundle that he had left there. Theclcrk meekly received the money, delivered the bundle, containing one pair of pants, and the stranger went straight to the depot, where he bought a ticket, and departed for a distant city. “ Quite naturally, Mr. Scoville used every effort to discover the thief who had robbed one of hia guests, and, having no success, he, after a time, related the story confidentially io Mr. Huff, of the Markham House, hoping for a little advice. Haff* had been a little ashamed of himself for refusing, to trust a man who so promptly parted with hia apparel, and who so promptly paid up next day. But Scoville's story set him to thinking, and, in comparing notes, they came to the conclusion that the man you saw down there was a sharper. They also concluded to say nothing about it, but such things don’t keep worth a cent, you know."— Ijouisville Courier-Journal.

He was a wild Western cowboy, who was offered a calf that didn’t belong to anybody in particular, if he would ride a wild bull without saddle and bridle. He jumped from his horse, looked to his spurs, and leaped upon the bull with his face to the animal’s tail, setting his spurs deep into the flanks of the infuriated beast. The bull flung his head to the ground, but the rider held on to the tail and kept his seat. With another roar the bull rushed off and out upon the prairie. The race continued for a mile and a half, the whole crowd following on their horses. The bull plunged now and then into the sage brush with the idea of ridding himself of his burden, but it was of no use, and the sharp rowels kept pricking him on. At last, exhausted with fright and fatigue, he fell to the ground, and the cowboy, stepping off, came back, like the prodigal son, for his well-earned calf.— Detroit Free Press.