that dago on the side of
the nose, and you will hear a noise that will remind you of Garibaldi
crossing the Rubicon."

"Garibaldi never crossed the Rubicon, and you couldn't hit that Italian
count on the nose in a week, and if you did he would chase you with
a knife, and tree you in the cellar under the kindling wood, and if I
interfered he would gash me in the stomach and claim protection from
his government, and a war would only be averted between this country and
Italy by an apology from the President, saluting the Italian flag by our
navy, and an indemnity paid to your dago friend, enough to support him
in luxury the balance of his life. So be careful with your birdshot.
But, about your Aunt Almira; she was yelling for help this morning, and
didn't come down to breakfast."

"Well, sir," said the boy, respectfully, as he sheathed his trusty
sling-shot in his pistol pocket, after the dago had felt a shot strike
his hat, and he looked around at the boy with the whites of his eyes
glassy and his earrings shaking with wrath, "It was all on account of
the innocentest mistake that aunty is ill this morning. You see, every
night she puts cold cream all over her face, and on her hands clear up
above her wrists, to make herself soft. Last night she forgot it until
she had got in bed and the light was put out, and then she yelled to me
to bring the little tin box out of the bathroom, and I was busy studying
my algebra and I made a mistake and got the shoe dressing, that paste
that they put on patent leather shoes. Well, Aunt Almira put it on
generous, and rubbed it in nice. I didn't know I had made a mistake
until this morning, but I couldn't sleep a wink all night thinking how
funny aunty would look in the morning."

"Hold on," said Uncle Ike, "don't prevaricate. You did it on purpose,
and knew it all right, and let that poor lady sleep the sleep of
innocence, blacker than the ace of spades. Say, if you was mine I would
have a continuous performance right here now," and Uncle Ike run his
tongue a couple of times around a dry cigar a friend had given him,
and licked the wrapper so it would hold in the shoddy filling. "Don't
interrupt the speaker," said the boy, as he handed Uncle Ike a match to
touch off the Roman candle. "If you had seen Aunt Almira, just after she
had yelled murder the third time this morning, you would not scold me.
She woke up, and the first thing that attracted her attention was her
hands, and she thou