The semi-weekly messenger. [volume] (Wilmington, N.C.) 1897-1908, 1905-07-28

The boss is up there between the cell
ing and the roof" The domino play
ers jumped to their feet, greatly excit-
ed, and n of them yelled: Great
Scott, cd man. how on earth did Won
get in tnere?" Damn it," came the re-
ply, lit don't make any difference how
| got in; get me out quick; I'm smoth-
ering!" BY this time the barkeeper
was hopping about the saloon distract
eddy; and, seeing through the window
a policeman passing along the street
with his bulle-eye lantern. he ran TO
the door and hailed him. The stranger
stirred uneasily n his chair, but slept
on through all the confusion, while the
boss never stopped knocking and yell
ing to get out.
There was an old trap-door in the
ceiling; and a step-ladder, used in
keeping the gas fixtures in order, was
quickly brought from the rear Of the
saloon, and placed in position. Up this
the policeman climbed, more dumb
founded, if possible. than the others,
and knowing only that in some unac-
countable way the "old man" was up
between the roof and the ceiling, and
must be got out. The officer was Il very
powerful man, and by sheer strength
he pushed aside the trap-doOr, and
poked his head and lantern into the
attic. Just then the stranger finished
his nap, rose to his feet, and, unOb-
served, left the bar-room.
"Why, blame it." said the policeman,
there amt a living thing in here but
rats and plaster!!'' At this juncture,
clad in only his nightshirt and trous-
ers, the boss appeared at the door of
the saloon opening to the rear, What
in thunder is all this racket abOut?"
he asked-and his appearance in the
flesh created yer more establishment
and CONSERVATION than had his calls
from above for help.
why, how in the world did you get
out?" asked one of the old fellows.
Get out? Get out of where = why"
cried the bartender, 'Just now you
were hollering up there under the
roof Il have Just got of bed, you
blasted fool.' Then, seeing the po-
liceman still poised on the ladder, the
proprietor Indignantly exclaimed,
"What does all this mean, anyhow?
Have you all gone craZy?'
A butcher, who carried on a meat
stall Under the market, and who was
on his way home, seeing the excited
men through the window, stepped into
the bar-room. Nobody had his wits
sufficiently about him, or knew enough
about the matter. to give an expla-
nation: but, in the midst of the dis
jointed, incoherent talk, the butcher
slapped his thigh, and exclaimed:
"That's what that show fellow was
laughing about so hard to himself, as
he passed along the market just now"
what show fellow?'' why, the chap
i'm the red velvet vest, that had the
tent out on the fair grounds this week;
the fellow that talked up in the trees,
o Dtop of the houses, under the ground
and anywhere else that he wanted to"
That was it. The oyster eater, the
drunken man in the chair, was a clever
ventriloquist, who had taken the meas
ure Of the proprietor, caught his tones
of voice, and concluded to have a lit
tie fun all to himself. OF course, his
intoxication was a blind" assumed
for the purpose.
For a long time thereafter Bill, the
harkeeper, might be in the full flow
of talk: but q customer had only to
raise his hand, and point his finger
selemnly to the ceiling, to reduce him
to red-faced silence.
1t was one of the most attractive
houses on the pretty street running
through the suburbs of the town-not
the most costly and imposing, but
homelike and cosy. Over its front a
trailing vine Of gorgeous bloom and
~exuberant growth embraced It like a
lover. and sheltered it like protecting
wings. When the e curtains were
lightly tossed inward by the pleasant
summer wind. one saw through the
windows cushioned seats around the
alcove, comfortable chairs, a lofty, old
fashioned chimney-piece, a well-flled
bookcase, and 4 few handsome prints
setting off the walls.
In an easy chair, with his slippered
feet on a cushion, sat an Did man, with
snow-white silky hair, clad in a suit
Of spotless flannel. a newspaper on his
knee, his eyes closed. his spectacles
pushed back on his wrinkled brow. A
little girl fl Or six years old, with
eyes like dew-washed violets and hair
like spun gold, played in and out the
room. and down the hall to b front
door. a doll in her chubby arms.
My little girl must be good, and
take very good care of grandpa, while
mama is gone TO see poor Aunt Polly
Smith, who was taken very sick today
said a sweet-faced woman. dressed In
black, coming from a ear room, ana
walking to the front door. The up