The mirror. (Stillwater, Minn.) 1894-1925, 1922-10-12

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I'll tell you. 1 was "ahead" of a tab"
show; booking "time" for that sparkling,
scintillating and sensational troupe of
"broilers" called "The Boy, The Girl and
Moon" Oh, yes! Original New York
production; superb scenery; gorgeous cos
tunes; exclusive libretto, with complete or
chestra conducted by Signor Bacigalupo,
and all that sort of thing.
Having made all my contracts, with the
multitudious details that invariably must
be disposed of before a production can
stage its initial performance, was laying
over to catch train for New Orleans
thereby hoping to secure some rest on terra
frma. I destest sleeping in Pullmans,
especially in the South, don't you ?-when
my eccentric hunger overwhelmed me.
Descending to the lobby of the ram
shackle hostelry, that was the best the
town offered, made known my wants to
dusky son of Ham, who was draped
across several chairs in an effort to woo
Morpheus.
"Does yo' mind walkin' good piece?
No cabs runnin' now, sah," he explained,
scratching his head abstractedly.
81 don't mind, Pm very hungry" said I.
"Well sab, jes walk straight moth on
dis street till yo gifts to de Bayou den turn
to de right, an yo CANT miss Marse Jacks
oystah wuks. Yo'll see ILL white shanty
an coupla' oystah scows hall lit up"
he directed sleepily, adding: 81 reckin
you kin git you fill OBJ oystahs den," with
Ethiopian wonder at my unusual wish.
Making my way in leisurely fashion, as
directed, l soon left the lighted section of
town. The night was calm, yet the air
seemed heavy. Overhead, gibbons moon
hung low, seemingly awaiting some climax
of tropical mystery. A beautiful con-
stellation of stars winked and shone. The
occasional scrape of my foot against a
loose board in the rotting sidewalk fell
jarringly on my hearing. A slight rustic
somewhere to my left caused me to start
affrightedly, filling me with sudden fear,
then ashamedly, l laughed inwardly at
my childish fright.
Very soon l detected a strangely sweet
and brakish odor, almost nauseating, then
my sensitized vision caught the simmer of
water, rejecting the moon rays. All, the
Bayou, to be sure! 1 laughed joyfully.
Weird thoughts were banished. Voodoo-
ism, ghastly tropical tales, and similar
spine-tingling reflections disappeared like
mists before the sun.
There were the lights! The white
shanty! The scows! And oysters!
Covering the rest of the distance in no
time, paused moment on the theshold
of the little white shanty.
l beheld tiny room; high counter
laden with bowls and bottles; four or
five high stools; sawdust strewn floor.
A typical city "lunch wagon" in this out
of-way place! could hardly control a
desire to order one of those greasy chicken
sandwiches covered with crisp batter that
one can get in any city 1unchwagon."
Entering, somewhat doubtfully, l seated
myself on one of the stools
A midde-aged man, wearing spectacles
was bent over some task behind the
counter. In one corner of the room, at a
tiny table, two people sat, eating and con-
versing in low tones. Somehow the back
and general contour of the man looked
vaguely familiar. could not see his face,
yet l felt had seen it before. His COM