Millheim Journal. [volume] (Millheim, Pa.) 1876-1984, 1878-08-15


imagine, just think, what a glori-
Gus, triumphant death he will die.
Shortly after dinner the poor man
came into the coach and sat down
opposite me.
"Ah," he said with a deep groan,
81 don't know what l would give if
l could eat ike you"
"Sir," said, in n fine burst of
Indignation, for was afraid he was
going to accuse me Of swallowing
my knife every time l took a bite
pie, and just made up my nina
that l would cut his heart out if he
limited at such thing.
ooh, it's fact" he replied, 81
have not enjoyed a meal for years.
"Is it possible Y''' l asked in
amaGement.
Indeed, yes," he said, I'm all
out offix. I've got no liver at all,
to speak Of"
didn't suppose one liver would
be of account to him. l rather
thought that if he could get q couple
of gangs OF livers ana work them
by reliefs, they might be able to help
him along, especially if he had them
made of tin. But then he was a
strangsr to me, so didn't feel sat
isfed to make the suggestion.
"No," he continued, my liver is
no more account that a lump Of
cad. I suppose it's as big as four
of yours.
And he looked at me with an ap-
pealing glance, as though he expect
ed me to take my liver out and let
him examine it, as though it was an
oride watch he wanted to trade for.
Now, if there IS anything in this
wide, beautiful world that will make
me mad 1t is to have a man who is
alling to sit down and bore me with
list of his anatomical derange.
ments.
And the men of free America, it
seems to me, would rather talk of
their perishing livers than their new
er-dying souls, and it always makes
me mad for a man to come to me
and burden me with complaints
about the torpidity of his liver, as
though l were his physician. 1 am
proud to confess to the blindeSt,
densest ignorance concerning my
own inner life. l don't know
whether my liver is round or shaped
like guncase, and l don't know
where it is, and 1 don't care a con-
tinental, although l always had the
impression that it was just under
the shoulder blades. So l said to
the man, with very great enthusi-
aim:
ooh, do tell me about your liver
I should so like to know all about
it. l am so interested in such
things"
The man looked a little at my sud
den enthusiasm, hut he said there
wasn't much to tell about it. It
was as torpid, he SAID, as a snake in
Dece nber.
"Oh, charming, charming :" tx
claimed. "And is it tame ? Do
you let it run around loose, or do
you have to keep it chained up p
The stranger started, and looked
as if he would like to sit little fur.
ther away. He said he didn't ex-
actly understand me.
"And how is your spleen ?" l
asked, eargerly, "and your ventri-
Gals ? And do tell me about your
Choratic duct, and how do you get
along with your tonSils ? And have
you raised any new bones since l
saw you last and when did you
hear from your diaphragm ? Do tell
me all obout your viscera, make a
clinic of yourself and tell me the
Chris tian names of your bones and
the appurtenances there to pertain
ing. Tell me"-
But he got up and slowly backed
put of the car, and the conductor
shortly afterward told me that the
man with the liver told him that
The man who escaped from the asyl-
lm at Jacksonville as in the rear
coach.