an as though just out of a band box and as happy
as a schoolma'am at a vacation picnic, got on a street car near the depot,
a picture of a total wreck. He had on a long linen duster, the collar
tucked down under the neck band of his shirt, which had no collar on, his
cuffs were sticking out of his coat pocket, his eyes looked heavy, and
where the dirt had come off with the perspiration he looked pale and he
was cross as a bear.

[Illustration: THE RESORTER.]

A friend who was on the car, on the way up town, after a day's work, with
a clean shirt on, a white vest and a general look of coolness, accosted
the traveler as follows:

"Been summer resorting, I hear?"

The dirty-looking man crossed his legs with a painful effort, as though
his drawers stuck to his legs and almost peeled the back off, and
answered:

"Yes, I have been out two weeks. I have struck ten different
hotels, and if you ever hear of my leaving town again during the hot
weather, you can take my head for a soft thing," and he wiped a cinder out
of his eye with what was once a clean handkerchief.

"Had a good, cool time, I suppose, and enjoyed yourself," said the man who
had not been out of town.

"Cool time, hell," said the man, who has a pew in two churches, as he
kicked his limp satchel of dirty clothes under the car seat. "I had rather
been sentenced to the House of Correction for a month."

"Why, what's the trouble?"

"Well, there is no trouble, for people who like that kind of fun, but this
lets me out. I do not blame people who live in Southern States for coming
North, because they enjoy things as a luxury that we who live in Wisconsin
have as a regular diet, but for a Chicago or Milwaukee man to go into the
country to swelter and be kept awake nights is bald lunancy. Why, since I
have been out I have slept in a room a size smaller than the closet my
wife keeps her linen in, with one window that brought in air from a
laundry, and I slept on a cot that shut up like a jack-knife and always
caught me in the hinge where it hurt.

"At another hotel, I had a broken-handled pitcher of water that had been
used to rinse clothes in, and I can show you the indigo on my neck. I had
a piece of soap that smelled like a tannery, and if the towel was not a
recent damp diaper than I have never raised six children.

"At one hotel I was the first man at the table, and two families came in
and were waited on before the Senegambian would look at me, and afte