The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1877-05-24

condition this idea took possession of
his mind with redoubled emphasis. He
had more than once commenced a SEN
tence beginning, GAS 'scendant of
Llewellyn, but without getting any fur
ther. AT the second failure his left-hand
nelghbor, to whom the observation was
addressed, replied profanely, 40, blow
Llewellyn!" Evan Jones looked at him
for moment with an expression of i'm
measurable scorn and disgust, and then
turned to his right hand neighbor: g IS
descendant of Lleweyan, pears to me
as 'scendant-of Llewellyn-' and
then stopped again.
Cwm nog lwyn bora dwmnath cwlyd
llimach bach," replied his right-hand
neighbor.
"Dwyllog lwmmo gwlloch dina
nos" remarked another of the party.
"Cwlla gwyn dwylleth dym da cwi
bala llewelly caerloc, y responded Jones,
whose tongue was loose enough in his
native Welsh, and who would probably
have continued i'll the same strain for
some time had not the Chairman re-
quested attention for the 'March of the
Men of Harlech,' which was about to
be given by the choir. Jones sat still
during the chorus, with head and hand
keeping tipsy time to the measure; but
his soul waxed hot within him under the
influence of the inspiring strains, and
no sooner had they ceased than he wild
ly got upon his legs, and said in a loud,
thick voice:
"Mis'r Chairman, l shay? IS a hum
BILE represen 'tive-I mean ANCESTOR
mean 'scendant-of Llewellyn, | don't
think this 'spicious 'casion-''
Here there were loud cries of "Or-
der!" "Chair!" "Sit down." And
Jones was pulled violently down by the
coat-tails by one of his neighbors. The
gentlemanly looking man to whom we
| have alluded in oul first chapter was
Jones's us a-Uis at the table The scene
| was so ludicrous that he could not sup
press smile, which was observed by
! Evan, whose choleric temper fired up
instantly at the supposed affront.
"What TIL devil you grinning at, look
you?"
"Did smile? really beg your par
don; but | am quite sure | was not grin
ning,' as you call it.
g You did, sir; you grinned like-like
Cheshire cat, sir. [ appeal to tn genl-
men present. You've suited me, sir
suited me grossly. Names Jones very
good name: 'scendant of Llewellyn !;
and | 'mand 'sfaction of a gen Imam"
"My name is Jones, too, though |
haven't the honor of being descendant
of Llewellyn. There is my card, sir,
and if when you come to your sober
senses you desire to apologize for your
unseemly behavior, shall be happy to
see you"
Evans nght-hand neighbor thrust the
card, which bore the inscription
MR.. OWEN JONES,
80 Winslow Square, Belgravia, S. W.,
into Evans waistcoat pocket, and the
owner, by no means desirous of being
involved in an after-dinner brawl, moved
away to another part of the table. By
dint of little humoring those around
managed to soothe the fiery Evan into
comparative tranquility, and after few
more desultory observations, wherein his
descent from Llewellyn still played a
prominent part, he leant back in his
chair, and was speedily fast asleep.
The toasts came to an end at last, the
bards packed up their harps, and the
last of the guests departed, leaving Evan
Jones still sound asleep in his chair. A
council of walters was held over the
slumbering hero, and endeavors were
made to rouse him. They shook him,
they punched him-but all in vain. He
couldn't or he wouldn't walker up. They
succeeded in getting out of him that his
name was Jones, but to further inquiry
as to where he lived he only murmured
'scendant of Llewellyn,' and relapsed
again into still deeper slumbers.
: "You'H have to give him shake.
down among the empty bottles, Viii
/ liam," said one.
Not if know it, !" replied the heao
J waiter. g He might wake up in the
, night and walk off with the spoons. No
, we must find out where he lives some
how. Some of you just look in his pock
, cts, will you? Perhaps the gent has
: card-case about him.
No sooner said than done.
, "Here's card said one, divingintt
| Evans waistcoat pocket. ''' Mr.. Over
/ Jones, SO Winslow Square. ,"
, "That's him right enough; he sale
2 his name was Jones. He don't lool
t much like a Winslow Square sort, doe
f he? But there's no accounting for thes'
: Welsh gents. just as well he had hi
l pasteboard about him, though, wasn'
t ftp or he wouldn't have got home to
!, night
1t was a little after eleven o'cloc
y when four-wheel cab drove up to tn
!, door of No 80 Winslow Square.
2 'sThis is Mr. Jones's, amt itP'' sal
d the cabman to the smart partor maj