Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1883-08-07

mined to appeal to the laws of his coun-
try for redress in the shape of heavy
damages. The Office group will now re.
hearse."
When Jack Quimby awoke on the
second day of the year, he had vague
idea that he was on the threshold of
spontaneous combustion. "Never," he
groaned, "were my coppers so Internally
hot before. II l do not join some tenn
perance legion ere the day is over l am
lost man." Despite these reflections,
Jack Quimby dressed. and after good
round of stiff cocktails, walked to his of
fee and fell into the regular business
groove.
"Qcimby," said the senior partner of
the firm, 81 want that invoice made out
by ten o'clock"
"All right, sir; am at work on it
now"
Somebody for you, Mr.. Quimby." the
messenger boy cried, bursting into the
private Office.
"Show him in" said Quimby. A tall,
gaunt individual followed the boy, and,
fixing a stony glance on Jack, took va
cant chair.
"Of course you know who am, Mr..
Quimbyi"
"Tm blessed if do" replied Jack,
after a close scrutiny; 81 never saw
you before in my life that l can remem-
ber."
"My name," said the visitor, I" is Eu-
tropius Brown, and have brought you
the coffin you ordered last evening. If
you will show me the deceased, Mr..
Quimby, l will arrange everything with
out further delay. believe you re-
marked the corpse had been already two
days on ice."
Quimby looked at the visitor, aghast,
and then darted to the window. Sure
enough, there stood black wagon out
side the door.
"My dear sir" he said, there is no
body dead in this house. This is bus
mess house, and you are quite mistaken
about the address. | never ordered
coffin from YOU I've got no one to bury
and it strikes me-" added Jack, growing
desperate, "that you are altogether in ere
ror-in fact that you are not quite in your
right mind"
els not your name Quimby'"
"It is; I'm Quimby but, by heavens,
| have no use for an undertake."
"Then, why" said Brown, in an ex-
cited tone, "why did you come to my
establishment and ring the night-bell :
Why did you tell me to bring along,
the first thing in the morning, the mob
biest casket in the shop: Do you think
that is fair treatment for decent un-
dertaker, Mr., Quimby. Do you think
that"
"For the Lords sake, be quiet" Jack
gasped. Here are IS for New Years
present. Say no more about it. Take
your casket back and / will call on you
this afternoon and square up the balance.
Don't you see that I was not myself
when l spoke to you about that inter-
ment Now, go away, like good fel-
low," and Jack pushed Mr.. Brown out
and sat down again to his invoices with
heavy heart.
"How full I must have been! !! he
muttered. "To order coffin, why that
is the worst ever did. l wish / could
remember something about what hap
pened after left Benton's. But can't
its no use."
Gentleman wants to see Mr.. Quinn
by" shrieked the messenger.
Don't disturb yourself, Mr.. Quinn
by" cried short, stout man, with bull
neck. Just 1890. Come to give you
your lesson as per contract" and swing
ing sack from his back he took out q
set of boxing gloves and smiled compla'
Gently at the astonished Quimby.
"What the devil are you doing here''
calculated that individual, as soon as he
recovered his breath.
"Your boxing lesson, Mr.. Quimby.
Contract drawn up, sir, last night. and
signed in the presence of Mr.. Elmore.
Hours from ten to twelve every day, at
this office. See for yourself" And the
pugilist handed Jack paper on which
his own signature appeared.
Heres S5," said Quimby; "take it
for your trouble, Mr.. Slogem, and come
again the latter part of next week." And
as the pugilist put his gloves away and
walked off, Jack clasped his hands about
his head and fell into train of serious
thought.
"Pve been off," he said, shut never
so off as was yesterday. A coffin and
boxing lessons-where the deuce could l
have heen ANYHOW J"