Thomas County cat. [volume] (Colby, Kan.) 1885-1891, 1889-01-03
THEORY VS. PRACTICE.

THEORY VS. PRACTICE.
where Book-Learning was Detective ed
Decidedly Dangereus.
I'm bunged up considerable. said
a red-headed young man as he stood
at the foot of Cortlandt street, waiting
for the ferry. and felt Of the repairs
which had been put around on his face
in the way of court plaster; I'm
busted pretty unanermously, but l
guess 1 can hold out till / reach
jersey"
..Been in a fight?" asked q sympa-
thetic bystander.
..Naw-I didn't git started 'nough so
you could call it a fight rve been
licked through and amt tryin' to
dodge the ISSUE"
what got you into the trouble?"
"Edjercation, sir-readin' when 1
orter been in better business; belev-
in lot of blame fool truck jes' cause
it was in a book"
"How was it,"
"W'y this way: You see l had ono
o. these ere gymnazerum books and
read it Says the book like this, you
see: "A man with his waist bigger
round than his chest amt no good
physically That's what the book
claimed. He's i'ble to give out at the
critical moment. says the book. And
if he's fat, went on the book, he's dead
sure to give out at the critical minute.
He's short-winded and his muscles is
fabby. says the book. He amt no good
on earth, says the book awful certain.
and no man needn't be 'fraid to tackle
him. He's q 'cumberance on the
world, says the book, and he ort to
train and git down the size of his
waist and boom the dermensions Of his
chest fore some small man walks on
him. This was the idea the book held,
and took it all in"
didn't the theory hold good in
practice?"
II amt been able to see it in that
light yet. 1 came over from Jersey
this morning feelin' pretty o. X. My
dimensions are all right. You can
crack hick'ry nuts on my chest; I amt
short-winded. Nothing flabby bout
my muscles don't give out at the
critical moment says l. After awhile I
was up on Blocker street lookin' in
winder watchin' a Frenchman cook
pancakes on an iron footstool when
long comes policeman big's a load O.
hay. He tried to run on me by tellin'
me to move on. I sized him up. It
was a. ta0tt -f6rfheer- round his waist
than round his chest if it was an
inch. He was fat, too. Consequent
~. says to myself, you're fabby and
short-winded, and Dove all you'll
funk ut the critical moment. Then
says l: old boss, dry up or I'll mob
you! He steps up and l sails in, de-
pendin' on the critical moment for him
to cave"
but he didn't do it?''
Don't know. you see; I was dead
at the critical moment, SO l couldn't
tell. But l have a sneakin', lOwdOwD
notion that he didn't couldn't
swear to nothin', but its my 'pinion
that at the critical moment he was
walkin' around on me and reachin'
down and poundin' me with a
black club bout the size of a
bananner. He may have slumped
at the critical moment, but I'd
sooner think that he was dancin' on q
blasted fool about my size durin' sew
raj very critical moments. When l
come to put on my boots which he
had pounded off'n me, and went and
bought court-plaster by the roll like
wall paper. am now goin' home
to bun up a green-covered book on
ply cal development, and when I git
my arm out of the sling shall 60 to
work again and try to forgit some
things that have read. Goodbye
N Y Tribune.