ll, then, let it alone; and I hope one of those epidemic diseases
will get you and lay you up for life."

As Mr. Barker withdrew, Major Slott threw up the windows, and after
catching his breath, he called down stairs to a reporter,

"Perkins, follow that man and hear what he's got to say, and then
blast him in a column of the awfulest vituperation you know how to
write."

Perkins obeyed orders, and now Barker has a libel suit pending against
_The Patriot_, while the carbolic mat has not yet been introduced to
this market.

* * * * *

Mr. Barker was not a more agreeable visitor than the book-canvasser
who, upon the same day, circulated about the village. He came into
my office with a portfolio under his arm. Placing it upon the table,
removing a ruined hat, and wiping his nose upon a ragged handkerchief
that had been so long out of wash that it was positively gloomy, he
said,

"Mister, I'm canvassing for the National Portrait Gallery; splendid
work; comes in numbers, fifty cents apiece. Contains pictures of all
the great American heroes from the earliest times to the present day.
Everybody's subscribing for it, and I want to see if I can't take your
name.

"Now, just cast your eyes over that," he said, opening his book and
pointing to an engraving. "That's--lemme see--yes, that's Columbus.
Perhaps you've heard sumfin about him? The publisher was telling me
to-day, before I started out, that he discovered--No; was it Columbus
that dis--Oh yes! Columbus, he discovered America. Was the first man
here. He came over in a ship, the publisher said, and it took fire,
and he stayed on deck because his father told him to, if I remember
right; and when the old thing busted to pieces, he was killed.
Handsome picture, ain't it? Taken from a photograph; all of 'em are;
done specially for this work. His clothes are kinder odd, but they say
that's the way they dressed in those days.

"Look here at this one. Now, isn't that splendid? William Penn; one
of the early settlers. I was reading the other day about him; when
he first arrived, he got a lot of Indians up a tree, and when they'd
shook some apples down, he set one on top of his son's head and shot
an arrow plumb through it, and never fazed him. They say it struck
them Indians cold, he was such a terrific shooter. Fine countenance,
hasn't he? Face shaved clean; he didn't wear a mustache, I believe,
but he seems to've let himself out on hair.