for
relief. "Is there no way," so wails the host, "to lay this Richard
Randle's ghost?"

THE CONQUEROR

The pugilist, tall and majestic, and proud of his numerous scars, was
telling of foreign, domestic, and all kinds of Homeric wars. His
hearers were standing before him in attitudes speaking of awe, for what
could they do but adore him, the man with the prognathous jaw?

"My make-up," he said, "rather queer is, I've never seen others that
way; I simply don't know what a fear is; I really rejoice in the fray,
I guess I'm the champion glarer, my glance seems to wilt all my foes;
I've seen fellows crumple with terror before we had got down to blows.
This made me so often the victor; no qualms in my bosom I feel; I don't
fear a boa constrictor--my heart is an engine of steel."

[Illustration: The Conqueror]

And so of his feats superhuman he talked in a voice ringing loud, until
a small, fiery-eyed woman came elbowing up through the crowd. Her
voice, like her person, was spindling, but Hercules heard when she
called: "Come home, now, and cut up some kindling, or I will be
snatching you bald!" No more of his triumphs he lilted, like Spartacus
spieling in Rome; the steel hearted warrior wilted, and followed his
conquerer home.

THE TRUTHFUL MERCHANT

If Ananias lived today and ran the corner store, he couldn't keep the
wolf away from his old creaking door. For men who spend their
hard-earned rocks won't patronize the man who must forever, when he
talks, make truth an also ran.

I bought a whole new suit of clothes from Bilks, across the street. He
said to me: "Such rags as those just simply can't be beat. They
ornament the clothier's trade, and eke the tailor's shears; they will
not shrink, they will not fade, they'll last a hundred years. Go
forth," said Bilks, "upon the street, in all your pomp and pride, and
every pretty girl you meet will wish she was your bride."

So I went forth in brave array, the city's one best bet. There was a
little shower that day, and I got slightly wet. And then the truth was
driven in that my new rags were punk. Alas, my friends, it was a sin
the way those trousers shrunk! The buttons from my waistcoat flew with
dull and sickening crack; my coat soon changed from brown to blue and
then split up the back.

Old Bilks gold-bricked me in that deal, but does his system pay? He'll
never get another wheel from me till Judgment Day. The kopeck that you
win by gu