The news & observer. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1894-current, 1896-07-11
Lewis's Yarns About Great
Men in Chicago.
wALTHALL'S POKER GAME
Mol cans Pink Paper and the
Chinese Legation.
BERlAH WILKINS IN THE WAR
Ex-Gov. Flower Narrow Escape When
He Fell from the Tree Climbing for
the Coon and Was Sampled oY
the Dogs Tony Noltner's
Game Eel.


Game Eel.
lSnacial O rhe New York JournaD.
Chicago, July 8.-One would be sur
nrised ito hear that this was not plc-
fure of Mark Twain. 1t is what low
natures call q dead ringer" for Mark
Twain. AS a matter of truth, however
il is a brilliant setting forth Of Senator
WalthaIl, of Mississippi. It's strong ar
tistic point lis the profile presented OF
Mr.. Walthall's stomach. Mr. Naldhall
is a Virginian, born at Richmond, but
has long lived and flourished III Mlssls-
sippi. He is an accurate type OF the
Southern gentleman of the old school,
and comes to us from day "beto the
war;" when Southern gentlemen rals-
ed cotton, drank peach and honey ana
PLAYED poker, "two-cali-tiVe IN nlg-
gahs.' Once, when passenger on tine
steamboat Grand Turk, EN- route tor
ST. Louis Mr.. WaEthall was embarked
in poker A favorite stood behind his
chair. A looker-on, who had just come
in. asked the negro:
do YOU belong to the boat?
''No, sab" replied the negro, with
worried look Il doanit know who /
b'longs to. ID title to me is mighty
shifty jus now
Don't know who you belong to-
repeated the new conner. "How's
that?'
well, sah,'' replied the negro, 'dey's
'sperimentin' wild my title in dis pokah
game. sab. Use b'longed to Mars Pon-
dexter ovah dab. An to Mars Walthall
ovah h'yar. I'm in "a jackpot now. sab,
an | reckon by d'timeanother han or
SOS dealt out, I'll know who owns me
agin.''
Mr.. Waithall not only looks like
Mark Twain, but, like the latter, he is
a humorist Often in the cloak room
Of the Senate Mr.. Waltihall will drive
dull care away by telling funny stories,
while his colleagues sleep Out here,
ii is MIR. WalthalFs custom to gather
AN audience and relate stories of the
South Speaking of the religious en-.
iHhusiasm of negroes, Mr.. Nalthall told
the following:
Besides changing their names
whenever any event of Importance
happens" said Mr. Walthall the
Southern darkey frequently changes
his religion. He may start out as a
Methodist. In a week you'll find that
the Campbellite Church. | had d boy,
Tom, black as a spade flush. Tom came
TO me one day and said:
Mars Wabthall, Use done jined the
Presbyterian church. Can't hunt no
mo- on sunday, now. sab. Use got
'Hgion, an Use got it hot
Il told him | was glad TO hear it,
A little churchgomg was better than
+i14cr a11d ~ xS-ls I.
to save ones soul than to catch a pos
sum. About a month later Tom OH
served:
Mars WaIthall, Use gone ovah to
d Mefd.s church You see. d Presby-
terian's a heap too dismal d religion TO
a niggah, sab. 1t make Tom mighty
gloomy, sab: so | bitches up wild q
Mefdis. an | feel like I'm safe now.
ut wasn't a month afteTward when
Tom vouchsafed the information that
he had abandoned the Methodists for
the Baptists.
'Yessah,' SAID Tom; I iines wild a
deep-water passed. of folks who calls
themse'fs Baptis. About d Mefdis
sab, is one thing | don't like. Dey gives
way to what dey dominates speri-
ence meetin's, sab w4har every man
gets up an tells what he's been a-doin
all his pas life, sab. Now, da.t's mighty
'barrassn' to a gen imam like me, who's
been alvin sorter loose an lively, fo'
a likely numbah of years. So / quits
'em an goes oval to d Baptis. Oar all
dey does is dip you in d. watah Ike
rouse an dar YOU is, safe in d love of
d Lamb. p"
And now we have John Mclean. He
is the Caesar of the Gas Company of
the District of Columbia / paid trib-
ute in the way of gas bills to Mr.. Nc
Lean myself for about five years and
have regarded him with awe ever since.
As gas company Mr.. Mclean is a
serious proposition. But he has light
er moments, wherein he occurs as
jovial and gay. Once Mr.. McLean's
bizarre, fantastic taste of color plung-
ed the Chinese Embassy into mourning.
This inadvertent grief on the Chinese
part was brought about in this fash
ion; Mr.. Mclean, in order, no doubt,
to confer roSeate tinge to what was
otherwise a dark and gloomy thing,
determined to make out his gas bills
on paper of peculiar pink. One day
the pig-tailed mental busting the hall
way of the Chinese Embassy struck
one OF these peach-DloW evidences OF
a gas Indebtedness He carried it to
the legation secretary, who took it
between his taper fingers and, turning
from the game Of fan-tan ia which he
had been engrossed, attempted to
make it out. The secretary couldn't
read it. He was a gifted Mengol and
could spell out wash bill or translate
the history set forth on some tea box,
but when called thus suddenly to bat
on one Of Mr.. McLean's gas bills he
famed out. One thing, however, Of
fered key to the mystery. The pink
color of the bin was the color Oh
mourning in far Cathay. Evidently
that was it. Some great official was
dead; possibly the Presidents. The
secretary's almond eyes began to fill
with legation tears and he cholxed uI
and took TO sobbing officially. LIE
notified the rest of the Chinese con
tingent Ihe legation house was al
once locked and shuttere1; the Chinese