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THE ATLANTIAN 19 water until it cooled, after which he slaked his thirst. Then Artemus add ed: “It’s a shame to spoil a story for re lation’s sake, or to shield a shirk from public gaze, so I’m going to tell you all that the fellow who did this was Char ley Park, who sits right down here in the front row.” Well, there was no more disturb- Candler Building. ance from that quarter the rest of the evening, and Charley laughed as loud and long as anybody. Droll About Funerals. Not infrequently the lecturer’s sto ries drifted to funerals, and he wrung many a tear of laughter from unsus pecting audiences with the most droll and ludicrous tales upon this somber subject. One of them, taken from Mr. Ryder’s narrative, tells of a farmer whose wife died, and the neighbors began to come in to express condo lence and ask if they could help about the place. But the husband was no where to be found. They looked in the house, in the barn and down In the meadow, but he wasn’t there. At last one of them went to the well to get a drink, and there they found him just emerging from the top of the hole. Asked what was the trouble, he replied: “Nothin’, nothin’ ’tall, only her dyin’ sort o’ made a broken-up day, an’ I thought it was ’bout as good a time as any to fix that durned well." Of course the neighbors overlooked this, and one of them asked if there was anything they could do for him. He 'lowed there wasn’t, unless the fellow who spoke was willing to lend the bereaved man his new, heavy, sil ver hunting-case watch. Of course the neighbor accommodated him. During the funeral the neighbors no ticed him nervously tugging at the chain from time to time, looking at the hands and snapping back the cover. At last the service was over and the coffin in the grave. Snap! The watch was closed and he looked up with a smile of satisfaction. “Well, it was just twenty minutes past 2 when we got her in.” This story, of course, was always greeted with roars of laughter, as it was told in the quaint, drawling style of the Maine Yankee. As an encore he told another, much as follows: In a village where there was no regular undertaker a death had oc curred and a coffin was wanted, so a citizen who was going to the city was entrusted to secure one. The fellow was extremely fond of limbur- ger cheese and couldn’t resist the temptation to purchase a few pounds. But to his consternation, the express agent refused to ship it for him. Be ing a man of humorous qualities, he conceived the idea of placing the cheese in the coffin, which was then duly shipped. In the* course of the journey home, the fellow thought he would stroll up into the “baggage coach ahead” to see how his posses sion fared. He found the baggage- master with his head sticking out one side door, his face awry, and the cof fin as far away as it could be placed. The fellow sensed the situation and was about to walk back into the coach when the baggagemaster asked him: "Does that belong to you?” point ing to the coffin. “Yes,” was the doleful response. "Any relation?” "Yes,” still more dolefully; “wife.” It may be stated, however, that the joker was a bachelor. “Well,” responded the innocent baggagemaster, with certainty, “she ain’t in no trance!” Failing Health. After a tour of lecturing in this country, Artemus felt his health fail ing. A brother had already died of consumption, and fear of this disease was with Artemus. He went to Eng land to lecture, and also in the hope that he might recover, but he grew worse instead, and died March 6, 1867. But before his death he had in gratiated himself quite as warmly in to the affection of the Londoners as he had won the goodwill of people at home, in spite of his roughness, and his dissipated manner of living, which undoubtedly did much to hasten his end. He was immensely popular, was admitted to the exclusive clubs, and met with favor and friendship gen erally. His more important works, written in his quaint humor and still more quaint and ridiculous manner of spell ing, are collected under the titles: “Artemus Ward, His Book”; "Arte mus Ward, His Travels”; “Artemus Ward in London,” published between 1865 and the time he died. PRUITT’S BIRTHDAY PRES ENT. It isn’t everybody who can give a birthday present like William E. Ber ner gave to John Pruitt, colored, a couple of days ago, says the Indian apolis News. "Union Made" SHOES We are re ceiving daily the best and latest styles in Men Shoes all leathers black or tan either for dress wear or hard service. Give us a trial and you will al ways be a customer. : : : 6 PEACHTREE ST. ATLANTA, GA. Berner is the marriage license clerk at the country clerk’s office, and as such he encounters all kinds of queer situations. The other day Pruitt came ir to get a license to wed Eliza Clink- enbeard. Before a license can be pro cured nowadays one must answer in writing all kinds of foolish questions, among them being the date of birth. Pruitt scratched his head when ask ed his natal day. “Pact is, Ah don’t know,” he said. “Don’t you know how old you are?” Berner asked. “Not for sure. Somewheres near 40, i guess.” “Haven’t you a birthday?” "Never had a birthday.” “Well, I will make you a present of a birthday right now,” said Berner. "Everybody should have a birthday. You are 40 years old and you were born on the Fourth of July.” And Berner wrote down on the marriage license papers that way. “Now, remember,” said Berner, when Pruitt started to leave. "You were born on the Fourth of July and you mustn’t forget to celebrate when your birthday comes around.” “I won’t,” said Pruitt, highly pleased. IN READINESS. VERY SIMPLE. A rather simple-looking lad halted before a blacksmith’s shop on his way home from school and eyed the doings of the proprietor with much interest. The brawny smith, dissatisfied with the boy’s curiosity, held a piece of red-hot iron suddenly under the young ster’s nose, hoping to make him beat a hasty retreat “If you’ll give me half a dollar I’ll lick it,” said the lad. The smith took from his pocket half a dollar and held it out The simple-looking youngster took the coin, licked it, dropped it in his pocket and slowly walked away whist ling. ALWAYS THE WAY. Mrs. Hen, having performed her oviparous function, took a constitu tional around the yard. Returning to her nest she found it empty and clucked angrily. “What’s the trouble, ma’am?” ask ed the rooster. “It’s mighty funny,” she grumbled, "that I can never find things where I lay them.” They might not need me, Yet they might; I’ll let my heart be Just in sight. A smile so small As mine might be Precisely their Necessity. —Emily Dickinson. INEQUALITIES OF SCIENCE (From the Houston Post.) A Chicago phrenologist says La Fol- lette’s bumps indicate that he will be president La Follette never had half the bumps that Bryan has experienced, and yet nobody is predicting that the Nebraskan will be president.