The Irish standard. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn. ;) 1886-1920, 1894-07-28
: Copyright. 1893, BY J. B. Llpplscorr COMPANY.

B. LlpplNcorr COMPANY.
ooh, he'll be along here soon That's
his team tied there On the side street.
If he happens to be in good humor he'll
take your things, and as like as not
give you place to camp in his woods.
Hiram Bartlett's his name. And, talk
ing of the old Nick himself, here he is.
say, Mr.. Bartlett, this gentleman was
wondering if you couldn't tote out
some of his belongings. He's going out
your way"
Bartlett was a somewhat uncouth
and wiry specimen of the Canadian
farmer, who evidently paid little at
tention to the subject of dress He said
nothing, but looked in lowering way
at Yates with something Of contempt
and suspicion in his glance.
Yates had one receipt for making the
in, Mr.. Bartlett" he said, cheerily,
''and try one of my friends excellent
cocktails"
stake mine straight" growled Bart
lett, grufdy, although he stepped in
side the open door. II don't want no
Yankee mixtures in mine. Plain whis-
ly's good enough for any man, if he is
a man: I don't take no water, neither.
I've got trouble enough"
The bartender winked at Yates as he
showed the decanter over to the new
conner.
Right you are" assented Yates,
cordially.
The farmer did not thaw out in the
least because of this prompt agreement
with him, but slipped his whisky gloom
lily, as if it were a most disagreeabfe
medicine.
"What did you want me to take out9'
he said, at last.
IA friend and a tent, a Jug of whisky
and a lot of jolly good tobacco"
''How much are you willing to pay?'
''Oh, don't know. I'm always will
ing to do what's right. How would five
dollars strike your
The farmer scowled and shook his
head.
''Too much" he said, as Yates was
about to- offer more. "'Tain't worth
it. Two and half would be about the
right figure. Don'no but that's too
much. I'll think on it going home and
charge you what it's worth. I'll be
ready to leave in about an hour, if that
suits you. That's my team on the other
side of the road. II It's gone when you
come back I'm gone, an you'll have to
get somebody else :.
With this Bartlett drew his coat
sleeve across his mouth and departed.
ssThat's him exactly said the bar
keeper. s'He's the most cantankerous
crank in the township. And say, let
me give ycna pointer. If the subject
of 1912 comes up-the war, you know
you'd better admit that we got thrashed
out Of our boots; that is, if you want to
get along with Hiram. He hates Yam
KEGS like poison" =.
''And did we get thrashed In 1922"
asked Yates, who was more familiar
with current topics than with the his
tory of the past.
''Blest if 1 know. Hiram says we
did. told him once that we got what
we wanted from old England, and he
nearly hauled me over the bar. So
give you the warning, if you want to get
along with him. -
sThank you. Til remember it. So
long"
This friendly hint from the man in
the tavern offers key to the solution
| of the problem Of Yates success on the
New York press. He could get news
when no other man could. Flippant
and shallow as he undoubtedly was, he
somehow got into the inner condolences
of all sorts of men in way that made
them give him an inkling of any
thing that was going on for the
mere love Of him, and Yates often got
| valuable assistance from his acquaint-
ances which other reporters could not
get for money.
The New Yorker found the professor
sitting on bench by the custom-house
chatting with the officer, and gazing at
the rapidly-fowing broad blue river in
front of them.
81 have got man, said Yates, ''who
will take us out into the wilderness In
about an hours time. Suppose we
explore the town. l expect nobody
will run away with the tent till we
come back"
s'I'n look after that said the officer;
and, thanking him, the two friends
strolled up the street. They were a
trifle late in getting back, and when
they reached the tavern they found
Bartlett just on the point of driving
home. He grufiy consented to take
them if they did not keep him more
than five minutes loading up. The
tent and appurtenances were speedily
loaded on the hay rack, and then Bart
lett drove up to the tavern and waited,
saying nothing, although he had been
in such hurry few moments before.
Yates did not like to ask the cause Of
delay; so the three sat there silently.
After awhile Yates said, rs mildly as
he could:
care you waiting for anyone, Mr..
Bartlett9''
ssYes,' answered the driver in surly
tone. ..I'm waiting for you to go in fur
that jug. l don't suppose you filled it
to leave it on the counter"
'.By Jove!' cried Yates, springing
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