The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1897-10-03
JONES'S HOODOOS.

JUNESS HOUDUUS.
The later years of Jones's life have been
dominated by an ambition on his part to be-
come good story teller. To this end he
has cultivated every opportunity that can
be of advantage to him. even to the copying
of dramatic poses and sensational pauses.
All along there have been just three per-
sons who have persistently logged his foot
steps and retarded his efforts At first he
tried to persuade himself that these three,
unwittingly, crossed his path, but so deter
mined has their discretionary tactics con-
tinued that it finally dawned upon him that
he was the victim of a base conspiracy, the
object of which was to prevent his attain
ment to an ideal perfection. There seems
to be no remedy for this, except the re-
moval of these intriguers, and. as Provi-
dence has so far refused to interfere, Jones
can only hope that the future has in store
relief Otherwise his cherished expecta-
ton will have to be abandoned. The first
one of these conspirators is named Horace
p. Jison He is a small dark man. with
an immense brown mustache, and a laugh
that is out of all proportion to his attenu-
ated frame.
Whenever Jones attempts to tell story
on the street, in the office, at the club--it
makes no difference where-Jilson or one
of his trusted leutenants is sure to be on
hand. Sometimes, when a furtive glance
reveals their absence, hope springs up
strong in his heart, but before many words
have been passed he is aware of the APP
proach of one of the trio, and realizes
with dull despair gnawing at his heart
that the thing is doomed. Jilson has a
laugh that is hung on an oiled spring; it
is entirely out of his control, and is liable
to break away at the slightest touch. He
listens to tale with attentive earnestness
and a face keenly alive to the situation.
In fact, he seems to be holding his fea-
lures in allegiance, and so strong is the de-
sire to laugh that his face grows tense with
suppressed emotion. Jones is afraid to look
at him. he knows that his face is strug-
Cling in restrained merriment and his eyes
twinkling with appreciation, and he realizes
that his only alternative is to hurry breath
lessly through the story, that he may reach
the climax before Horace p. Jilson laughs.
No time to embellsh the tale or adorn it
with side-fringes of eloquence-the least
hesitation is fatal. Should he pause to pick
out an exact word it gives Jilson time to
ruin things.
The only way to outwit Jilson is to have
your sketch committed to memory rattle
it off like a schoolboys grafton, and with
machine-like rapidity. Should you stop for
any purpose he will very naturally think
it is time to laugh; there is no better in
dication to him of the proper time for hilar-
ity than q sudden cesse ton of cCnversa-
ton. Jones has eonhded to me that the
only safe plan when Jilson is around is to
have your hand on his throat and keep it
there until you arrive at the legitimate con-
clusion of your narrative.
Another of these individuals, and hardly
less hateful to Jones, is William II. Wag-
goner. Waggoner is large and has heavy
ford face that reveals his taste for the
wine that is red. He, too, is possessed with
a desire to tell stories, but he never thinks
of one until something that Jones has said
recalls an incident of his own. Jones can
see him start and make a mental note of
something, can read the feverish light that
flashes in his eyes, and the impatience in
every fibre of his being, and knows that
Waggoner longs to fairly seize the reluctant
words from his throat and drag them out
that he may hasten the finale and give him
self chance to talk. This, of course, leads
Jones to prolong an otherwise quick-ending
tale and to begin anew should Waggoner
attempt his prelude Jones rejoces in the
dreadful agony of his rivals face and the
cold perspiration on his brow, and thus is
diverted from his original intention Of
pleasing his auditors to test of endurance
with Waggoner.
All this is well enough unless Horace p.
Jilson should chance along; in that event
Jones is between two fires. 1t requires rare
presence of mind to so engineer his narra-
tive that neither Jison will be offered an
opportunity to laugh nor Waggoner given
the initiative for his story.
The last of the trinity is Theron Davis
Theron is utterly devoid of sentiment or
appreciation. 1t is impossible to provoke
his mirth or to even awake a passing in
terest. The best he has to offer is calm
supercilious smile and a fishy stare. Jones
can no more avoid him when he is on the
hunt for an audience than he can evade
Jones. There is a charm in his basilisk
countenance that rivets Joness attention
Once begun, and Theron having ascertained
that there is no avenue of escape open
Jones loses sight of the rest of his hear
ers and devotes himself wholly to Davis
siezes his wandering attention and holds it
with the grip Of despair, bends forth every
energy to provoke merriment, and, just as
the end is reached, collapses and weakly
wipes his forehead searching the faces of
his companions for some token of sympathy
for the vanquished, and finding nothing but
pity for a presumptuous intruder. Theron
Davis Immediately moves off or changes
his occupation suddenly. If he has been
smoking ne throws away the stub with d
gesture of disgust; if he is not smoking
he lights a cigar with an air of great Ian
guor Perhaps if he is at the club he wear
lily proposes game of cards or seeks to
drown his trouble at the buffet. Anything
to get away, even though MANNED for life.
Jones knows that his stories hurt Davis,
and Davis knows that he knows it; yet the
temptation to vanquish him and awaken
an interest will keep Jones forever after
him. Jones often thinks if he could just
hear him laugh once-like, say Jiison, for
instance-that he would know that one Of
the obstacles in his path had been forever
removed, and in that case could renew with
increased effort the pursuit of Jilson and
Waggoner. a. {. GARRIGUS.
Awful Mean.