The gold leaf. [volume] (Henderson, N.C.) 1881-1911, 1889-10-31
BE GOT EVEN.
HOW A PRACTICAL JOKE WAS RE
PAID.
He Laughs Best Who Laughs Last,

Lewis NJ. Sweet, in Texas Siftings.l
About year ago l played little
practical joke on my bosom friend,
Ferguson. He was looking for good
boarding house, and l gave him the
address of one which was about as bad
as they get to be in New York, which
is saying great deal.
Ferguson followed my advice, and
his futile attempt to blend with an al
legged dinner still rankles in his memo
ry. The coffee was not strong enough |
to pull one of Watts hymns for Infant
Minds down hill. The weakness of
the coffee was more than counterbal-
anced by the butter, which was strong
in spite Of its palid hue. For desert
the boarders had bananas of uncertain
age, and the one Ferguson got had
upon its sallow cuticle discolored spots
where peritonitis had already set in.
The cleanest thing about the table was
the soiled napkin, which as an illustra-
ted record of what some previous
boarder had had for dinner was very
useful.
Ferguson was very wrathy at first
for sending him to that boarding house,
but we finally made up and l forgot
all about it. Not so with Ferguson.
His gastronomic triumph still rankles
in his stomach, and he has been watch
ing for chance to get even ever since.
A few days ago he said with bland
smile: "There is a nice, cozy barber
shop just around the corner from where
you live, and as it is organized for
business you ought to patronize it."
AS my spring crop of hair had been
ripe for some time, followed the advice
of Ferguson, land now that the vote has
been counted, the result is not satisfac-
ry, by an immense majority. The cut
of my hair is simply infamous. Itlooks
as if it had been perpetrated by the
gentle hand of woman, or bitten off.
In some places it has been cut SO short
that the nude scalp is on exhibition,
while some of my tresses are still long
enough to be swayed by the gentle
breeze. Ferguson's barber may be
| able to trim the locks of a canal, but
when it comes to cutting hair he is as
yet nothing but an amateur.
went into his establishment full of
confidence, and assembled the auburn
hued plush throne without any mis-
| givings whatever. The sufferings1 un-
derwent would draw tears from the
eyes of tax collector. The barber was
short, fat man, who wheezed. His
! head shaped like long watermelon,
was as unembarrassed by hair as the
inside of churn, excepting a frayed
lambrequin of emaciated tresses that
hung down on the subsequent slope OF
his dome Of thought. When the after
noon sun got whack at his nicklc-
plated think machine, it seemed in the
mirror as if he had suddenly acquired
a halo, like saint of the middle ages,
or middle-aged saint, but he destroyed
! the illusion by squirting tobacco juice
through his front teeth.
He had large, blond ears, in which
the tucks had been let out. Moreover
he had a wart of such magnitude on
his chin that if it had been little
larger he himself would have had the
appearance of being the mere excres-
cense of the wart. The barber's son
stood in front of me while his father
was operating on my hair ,and watched
the proceedings intently with his large
blond ewes, such as we frequently see
on the fish stands. The boy is learn
ing to become a barber, but no matter
how clever he may be, he need never
hope to cut hair as wretchedly as the
old man.
The crown princes ears were mod
eled after those of his parent. Te
properly box those ears would infuse
thrill in the lumber trade. He als(
had on exhibition Corinthian hair
llp, with fuzz on it. His head wa!
perched on long skinny neck tina
was adorned with all Adams apple
twice the usual size of that fruit, ant
when it tsoyed up and down with ever,
motion of his lower jaw as he crushed
the life out of a chunk of chewing gun
it was sight TO make a dead mai
nervous. If this dime museum frea
had ever bathed at Coney Island
know what starts the rumors about sc
serpents. To anybody who likes t
\ visit the morgue or seSel in the horror
e of the Eden Musee, Eergusor's barbe
: shop presents unusual inducements.
Y shut my eyes, but that could nc
). keep out the aroma Of the cookin
e that was going on few feet distar
# behind curtain. The good wife {
J. the bad barber was playing beeftea
II and fried union cantata on llttl
Il square stove in the back room. Will
4 the steak was singing B fiat, a boile
v cabbage symphony was in progress o
:? the back of the stove. These vario'
! aromas, which were loud enough
a drive.a dog from slaughter hous
r prevented from encoring the vocal pc
(ornoance ho a leather-lunped infaI