MR WEBB'S EXCURSION.

Thames Star, Volume VIII, Issue 2882, 11 May 1878, Page 4

MR WEBB'S EXCURSION.

If you had looked into the corridor at the Central Station the other day, youwould have seen along shiny nose sticking through the barred door of cell No. 4; and you might have heard a lonesome voice crying out, " Pn'ttin'"' 1 me in here won't make a bit of difference. I'll rip and tear all the harder when I git out! " His name is Webb. He is the oldest son of an old farmer in Greenfield township. He was in town the other day with produce, and just as he was ready to leave the market a boy approached him, and asked him if he didn't want to buy a church excursion ticket for half-price. It was to be a beautiful excursion, the boy said, with ice cream and lemonade, and handsome girls, and bashful widows all over the boat, and there would be soft music by the band, sweet singing by the choir, and shadowy angels would be hovering near to pick up the awful good children who tumbled overboard.. "I'm right there, bub," replied the oldest son, as lie went down into his vest for a quarter: and he further said that he had been for years hankering to go on a boss excursion up the river. The ticket read that the boat would leave her dock at sharp 9 o'clock a.m; on Thursday. The oldest son was in time. He went to the foot of Woodward Avenue and kept his eye looking for the steamer North-west. He didn't see anychurch deacons around.. No crowds of whiterobed children surrounded him. At 10 o'clock the oldest son pulled .out his card, walked :. up to a knot of men, and remarked:—" Has this excursion gone?" "That excursion," replied one of the men as he read the ticket, " took place three weeks ago this morning.'-' " And I'm left I ",." Yes, sir— you are just 20 days and some odd hours too late." " I paid 2s for this ticket," grimly observed the oldest son. "It calls for an excursion. I have got bread and butter and ham and currants, and a pint bottle full of tea in.this basket, and I'm going on the excursion or know the reason why." "There are-several reasonswhy," laughed the crowd. " Gentlemen, trot out your steamboat," said Mr Webb. They hughed again. "Gentlemen, I give you just two minutes to pull your old steamer around here!" More laughing. " Gentlemen, I'm no blowhard. I want my rights, and I'm going to have 'em. 1 ain't going to plank down 2s in cash, sit up half a night to grease my boots, sew on buttons, and oil up my hair, ride 12 miles in au old waggon, and find the boat gone, and not let folks know how I feel about it. Bring | on your boat!" "We don't own no boat," they answered. " Can't help it—l hold you responsible. Puff your old boat around here, or I'll climb the whole town!" He put down his bundle and went in,-the odds being 11 to 1. He hadn't spit on his hands over three times before he was all twisted out of shape and a good share of his body jammed into an old cheese-box. A policeman pried him out, united the knots in his legs, smoothed out the kinks in his spinal column, and led him away to the station. Don't that call for an excursion ?" demanded Mr Webb, as he slammed his ticket down before the captain. •" It does, if I know how to read, and now where is the excursion ?" " Gone," was the brief answer. " Well," " I .ham't gone.'. I'm waiting for that boat, and if she doesn't come I'll wade up and down this town like a festive cyclone ! I'll give you just two minutes to put me aboard of the excursion ! "—Detroit Free Press.