The times., 1899-08-20
Special lot IN upholstery department.

gently devotes himself to eating and to
the absorption of variously colored wines.
always leaving the table with reluctance
and often with manifest difficulty.
Then from the centre table, which might
be called the Table of Errata the ear
catches from the firm but not unkindly
lips of copper color-gowned mother of a
family John, when We got that little
Jersey COW we got her pedigree with her.
pedigree, my dear John, always tells
who cows mother was, and who-well
where she came from and who her parents
were-and l had her pedigree framed to
hang in the parlor, but my husband-you
know he always was queer about some
things, Johnnie said the parlor was no
place for a COW or her family, but l told
him
What she told him is drowned by a long
Grafton in French from a neighboring
table about nothing in particular, winding
up with an interrogative climax OF "Ain't
it," indicating not only a creditable de-
sire for naturaized United States citizen
ship, but also a beautiful appreciation oi
the best possible Yankee translation OF his
native NEST -ce pas.
There is the Table of Weights and Meas.
ures, at which sits short man of rotund
funny formation facing long, thin fellow
of the yardstick pattern, whose livelihood
would appear to be gained by deluding mil
liners from the country into purchasing in
large quantities things that they do moi
want which they cannot possibly sell Oc-
casionally he has his victims dine with him
and his behavior at such times clearly in
dicates whether his deal is completed
whether they are sold or not.
"No, SIR ! told him would never enter
his church, although he married two of my
Il 1.
speaker objects to the chureh-owning him
ON the ground of bigamous practices, or be-
cause he refuses to make wholesome rates
for knotting up the lives OF members OF hel
family does not appear, for, from the sta
tistical table. comes againathe strident voice
of the dictatorial Briton. Shameful, sir
shameful! You shot down those defence.
less Filipinos with no. loss TO speak of il
your own ranks. / call that slaughter, sir
slanghteri' 90
Pooh! Slaughter? Not half as much a.
your little fight at Omdurman, where your
British and Egyptians only lost forty sever
| men, all told, and killed over ten Thousand
Dervishes and wounded over sixteen thou
sand more" And, at the remembrance o.
that butcher bill of iA1bion's, the Ameri-
can looks as though ne were just beginning
! TO enjoy his dinner and takes wine with ar
air of unrestrained triumph.
Its a cold day when | get left" comes
in boastful tones from a side table; but the
man is quickly answered by thin, viper
ish looking woman, evidently attached tC
him only by the strained bonds of matri-
mony, IT'S colder day when you get righ
about anything" followed by brooding 81
| lence.
"As unsatisfactory as an interrupted
sneeze" whispers the Man from Boston
There's family row, and only conven-
tionality protracts its delivery until they
| can finish it at home
Again, from the table of errors, comes 8
tidal wave OF voice: If you've never read
that book, John get it and do read it. The
author-I forget her name-must have been
| at the Catacombs at the same time ! was
| for she tells about everything Just exactly
| as | saw it. The Catacombs, John is
| where they bury people when they're dead
you know, and II just makes your flesh
creep If you stay there very long" And
| the speaker shivers her plentitude of hesh
and assumes a worm -dieth-not look and
tone OF mysterious horror worthy Of an