hornton's dance-hall out in Merrill, Wisconsin, when the Silent Swede
used to start a general survival of the fittest every time Mamie the
Mink danced twice in succession with the young fellow from Albany, whose
father owned the big mill up Rough River. Of course, this audience was
perfectly orderly, and showed no intention whatever of cutting in, and
there were no chairs or glasses in the air, but I am forced to admit
that the opera had Thornton's faded for noise. I asked Bud what the
trouble was, and he answered that I could search him. The audience
apparently went wild. Everybody said "Simply sublime!" "Isn't it grand?"
"Perfectly superb!" "Bravo!" etc.; not because they really enjoyed it,
but merely because they thought it was the proper thing to do. After
that for three solid hours Rough House Mike and Shifty Sadie seemed to
be apologizing to the audience for their disgraceful street brawl, which
was honestly the only good thing in the show. Along about twelve o'clock
I thought I would talk over old times with Bud, but when I turned his
way I found my tired and trusty comrade "Asleep at the Switch."

At the finish, the woman next to me, who seemed to be on, said that the
main lady was dying. After it was too late, Mike seemed kind of sorry.
He must have give her the knife or the drops, because there wasn't a
minute that he could look in on her according to the rules. He laid her
out on the bum rock, they set off a lot of red fire for some unknown
reason, and the curtain dropped at 12:25. Never again for my money. Far
be it from me knocking, but any time I want noise I'll take to a
boiler-shop or a Union Station, where I can understand what's coming
off. I'm for a good-mother show. Do you remember _The White Slave_, Jim?
Well, that's me. Wasn't it immense where the main lady spurned the
leering villain's gold and exclaimed with flashing eye, "Rags are royal
raiment when worn for virtue's sake." Great! _The White Slave_ had _Die
Walkure_ beaten to a pulp, and they don't get to you for three cases
gate-money, either.

IN A STATE OF SIN[3]

BY OWEN WISTER

Judge and Mrs. Henry, Molly Wood, and two strangers, a lady and a
gentleman, were the party which had been driving in the large
three-seated wagon. They had seemed a merry party. But as I came within
hearing of their talk, it was a fragment of the minister's sonority
which reached me first:

"... more opportunity for them to have the benefit of hearing f