The Hartford herald. [volume] (Hartford, Ky.) 1875-1926, 1877-08-08
Mr.. Webb's Excursion.
Detroit Free Press.)

If you had looked into the corridor al
the Central station yesterday afternoon,
you would have seen lorg, shiny nose
sticking through the barred door Of cell
No. 4, and you might have heard lone
some voice crying out:
Putin me in here won't make hit
of difference III rip and tear all the
harder when | get out T.
His name is Webb. He Is the Oldest
son Of an old farmer in Greenfield Town
ship. lie was in town the other day
with produce, and just as he was ready
to leave the market, boy approached
him and asked him if he didn't want to
buy church excursion ticket for half
price. 1t was to be beautiful excursion,
the boy said, with ice>cream. and Lemons
ade, 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 shady angels would be
towering near to pick up the awful good
children who tumbled overheard.
I'm right there, bub," replied the old.
est son, as he went down into his vest
pocket'for quarter; and he further said
that he'd been for years laundering to go
on boss excursion up the river.
The ticket read that the boat would
leave the dock sharp at o'clock A.
of Thursday. The Oldest son was on
time. He went to the foot of Woodward
avenue, and kept his eye looking for the
steamer Northwest. lie didn't see any
church deacons around. No crowds Of
white>robed children surrounded him.
At ten o'clock the oldest son pulled out
his card, walked up to knot Of men and
remarked:
HAS this excursion gone2'
That excursion" replied one OF the
men as he read the ticket, took place
three weeks ago this morning"
"And I'm left !"
"Yes, sir--you are just twenty days
and some odd hours too late"
81 paid two shillIngs for this ticket"
grimly observed the oldest son. 1T
calls for an excursion. I've got bread
and butter and ham, and pint bottle
full Of tea in this basket, and I'm going
on this excursion or know the reason
why"
There are several reasons Why"
laughed the crowd.
Gentlemen, trot out your steamboat
said Mr.. Webb.
They laughed again.
Gentlemen, | give you just two min
utcs to pull your old steamer around
here !"
More laughing.
Gentlemen, I'm no blowhard. |
want my rights, and I'm going to have
'em. l amt going to plank down two
shillings in cash, sit up half a night to
grease my boots, sew on buttons and oil
up my hair, ride twelve miles in an old
wagon and find the boat gone, and not
let folks know how feel about it.
Bring on your boatr
ave don't own any boat" they an
swered.
Cant help i'll hold you responsible.
Paw your old boat around here or III
climb the whole town.
He put down his bundle and went in,
the odds being eleven to one. 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 p de-
manded Mr.. Webb, as he slammed his
ticket down before the captain. at does,
If know how to read, and now where is
the excursion"
"Gone," was the brief answer.
"Well, | hain't gone. I'm right here.
I'm waiting for that boat, and if she
don't come I'll wade up and down this
town like festive cyclonel I'll give
you just two minutes to put me aboard
OF the excursion. |"