The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1910-02-18
(Continued.)

nearly two thousand years ago." said Chester.
 What! Ju1e dead? Dead so long an I never heard!"
 The fat man buried his grief in his huge glass of beer, and Chester hast ened forth, thereby anticipating a hostile movement on the part of the bartender.
 "I must remember" he reflected, ! that Jules friend is always to be found in the nearest bar. When 1 am rich, I will .' Chester left his fat friend in the saloon, feeling more comfortable in ! mind and body than he had for days past As he made his way down TO l the docks on the river front he com forted himself for his failure to get a start in journalism as follows: "The chap who directed me to my plump and bibulous friend with whom I dined a la Perry Langham.--I | might even say al fresco,-said that a man who believed everything that he read in the newspapers would soon go mad A modernized version of That way madness lies,' but never the less true. I have been learning | a lot in the past few days. I should l be sorry indeed to be responsible, if cnly partially, for ubiquitous insan- ity. Therefore shall wheel truck" !" Chesters sudden and somewhat cratic decisions were generally dic- ment, but he always acted upon them swiftly and with great vigor. Ten minutes later he approached a huge red d-headed Irish foreman outside a transatlantic liner dock, and said: ''I'm going to work for you right away. Where is my truck ?'' The foreman was man of few words Moreover he was not accus- toned to being addressed with such cverweening confidence by tramp attired in rags. He gathered himself l. front of the pier shed, and struck 1t Chester savagely. Chester retaliated with equal celerity, knocking the foreman into much the same attitude as that in which he had discovered him.
 There's no use doing this without any stakes he observed as he back ed away rapidly to an open space among the mammoth trucks. "I'll bet you hat that can lick you" "A hat it is." shouted the enraged foreman, "and the job ye get besides
 if ye don't lave here in the St. Vim | cent ding dong cart.''
 1 q never played football" panted l Chester, as he cleverly sidestepped
 the Irishman's initial rush, ''and I rever rowed on the crew. Pm-a dub at tennis--and I couldn't run-a I block a minute-but," he concluded with swift straight armed blow
 which landed somewhere in the neighborhood of the foreman s
 Adams apple, tI want that hat"
 The foreman got up from beneath the truck where he had landed, and
 dropped his hands.
 ''You blankety blank blank blanis,' | he remarked, filling in the blanks
 with force and picturesqueness, "wud
 it hoy made ye amy betther if ye'd l played football and crew-ball and tiddlediwinks and tinnis?"
 'T think it would," said Chester pleasantly.
 Well, thank God thin that ye didn't. Another round, and twas me 1 wud nede the ambulance. Come
 along an get thruck, an say nc
 more about it, especially to the bhoys
 inside. 'Twould hurrt me reputay. shun.'
 Very well.' said Chester, '..And we'll go and get that hat after work.
 ing hours"
 "A hat too, begorra," marvelled the
 discounted foreman.
 How much do you pay?" inquired
 Chester. q need five hundred dollar:
 by next Saturday."
 "Begob ye wouldn't make thot if yt
 unloaded the whole cargo by yersilf,
 grinned the foreman. "'Tis a modes
 disposition ye're unfoldin'.."
 Well, I'll make what I can," re
 piled Chester cheerfully.
 Two minutes later he was wheelins
 a truck.
 Aside from the wear and tear ol his delicate hands, Chester found thi comparatively easy thing to do !; Any task within his strength is no : difficult for springy healthy youti
 of twenty-three, and the aching mus
 cles do not come till later. Cheste
 had not lasted long enough to ser . iously incommode him, and the onl,
 trace of his recent battle was hug
 bump on his forehead. f How differently our surrounding
 affect us at different periods of ou career. Ask any man who has beel ] a police reporter on big New Yor daily if he could subsist on the ''beef