Roseburg review. [volume] (Roseburg, Or.) 1885-1920, 1885-02-14
THE OLD, OLD STORY.


That Aneedote That Mr.. Sausage Tried
to Relate and the Exasperating Obstacles
He Met With.
] think that one reason there are so
few good story tellers among Us is that
the listeners are, in many instances, so
willfully and stubbornly unappreciative
that it tends towards discouraging the
skillful narration of firs.-class anec-
dotes.
There were four of us together com.
ing across ..the divide few years
ago, and this principle was then and
there elucidated Gibbon, Gregg and
myself were congenial acquaintance,
and we would have enjoyed the long
ride if it had not been for man named
Sausage. who had only recently es-
capped from some low-priced eduoation-
al institution. He had acquired few
cast-iron facts of the cyclopmdia vari-
ETY., and with the odor of the vale
dictory all through his clothes he was
making tour of the coast and Colo
RADIO. He was what you might call
one of those really statistical, brainy
young reservoirs of Information, who
burst forth from the alma mater with
the intention of going to Congress in
two years, but finally compromise the
matter forty years later by running for
Overseer of Highways and getting
showed under about l37 majority
When Gibbon saw Mr.. Sausage get
on the stage he said to me, in a low
voice: ssNye, we are undone. Saw
sage will, doubtless, endeavor to relate
some anecdote to us on the way, and
then I shall commit an atrocious
crime. -
But he didn't do so the first ten miles.
He contented himself by shedding other
information and explaining things that
he had just found in his physical
geography and stunning us with the
hard words that always float around
in the aquarium which young men refer
to as their brains.
Finally, however. some one reminded
him of a story. Gregg tried to turn the
conversation. but it was of no use.
Said he: ut seems that many years ago
atrayeler or tourist of some description,
whose name is immaterial-"
Funny name, said Gregg. Don't
you think SO, Gibbonp''
..Yes. Foreigner, probably. I knew
man named Jimmy Terrial once,
though.
We discussed the name for four or FIVE
miles, and then allowed Sausage to pro-
ceed.
'sWell, as | was going to say, this
tourist, traveller or sojourner was pro-
pounding inquiries relative TO the eli
mate, changes and isothernal-a
Now. pardon me-, said Gibbon,
s.but are you sure that word is not pro-
nounced isothermalp''
ventured TO remark that is-other-
| NAL was the correct accent, while Gregg
sided with Sausage. From quiet dis
cussion this grew into a regular row
| which lasted at least ten miles. Then
We allowed the narrative to proceed.
.sWell, at least to make long story
short, the traveller and native of this
country
Remember his name?'' asked Gregg.
We've got the other man s name. We
ought to have this one.
mo, = says Sausage. Il didn't give
the tourists name, You remember.
Il beg pardon, said Gregg 81 don't
want to seem querulons and all the time
kicking up "A row with comparative
stranger, but you certainly gave US the
other gentleman's name. 2
We then had long and highly en-
joyable quarrel. during which Gibbon
and challenged Gregg and Sausage to
| fight us in dark room, each man to be
blindfolded and armed with an adze.
Best man to pay all funeral expenses
| and scrub out the room next day.
To this Gregg agreed, but Sausage
said he WASH t a very expert adzeman,
and wanted to apologize.
Gibbon ard ] hesitated. Finally we
agreed to think it over, but in the mean
time we begged Sausage to. go ahead
with his story, as we would reach the
home station in five minutes more.
at last he made out to tell the story
that Adam found under the currant
bushes when he went into the Garden
of Eden. about the place where the
year was divided into "nine months
winter and three months late into the
/ fall. .
At the station Sausage went on east
Lake City. On the way Gregg, Gibbon
and | each sent telegram to Mr.. Saw
sage separately, which read as follows,
| to wit:
i f. Ptolemy Sausage, care Conductor No 4:
have heard that u. G. storJ of yours before. 9
| Collect
! And we had, too. Bill Nye, IN San
Francisco Ingleside.