took Percy to the court, which was held in the rear of a grocery store.
Going in, I knocked a big cheese off the counter and stooped to pick it up.
"That's all right," says the grocer, "it knows its own way around the counter by this time."
The judge asked Percy what his profession was.
"I'm an actor," says Percy. "When I'm on the stage I become so absorbed in my part that the theatre vanishes, the audience disappears – "
"Yes," commented the judge, "they go out and ask for their money back. What were you before you became a loafer?" asked the judge.
"I was a gentleman," says Percy.
"That's a good business, but you're not the only one who failed in it," says the judge. "Now what have you to say in your defense?"
"I must wait till my lawyer arrives," says he.
"Why," says the judge, "you were caught red-handed with the goods on. What could your lawyer say that would influence my decision?"
"That's just what I want to find out," says Percy. "But give me a little time and I will explain all."
"All right," says the judge. "Six years at hard labor. I hope you will be able to explain when you get out, or back you'll go for another six."
I was so afraid that the judge would give me time to explain why I was with Percy that I started to run and didn't stop until I got to Boston.
Now I'm going to sing you a little song, entitled: "He Made a Foolish Break And Got The Laugh; or, Wedded Persons' Compliments."
Said a young and tactless husband
To his inexperienced wife:
"If you would but give up leading
Such a fashionable life,
And devote more time to cooking —
How to mix and when to bake —
Then, perhaps you might make pastry
Such as mother used to make."
And the wife, resenting, answered
(For the worm will turn, you know):
"If you would but give up horses
And a score of clubs or so,
To devote more time to business —
When to buy and what to stake —
Then, perhaps, you might make money,
Such as father used to make."
There! I'm greatly relieved now that I've got that song off my mind. I was afraid I might break down, because it's so touching.
Talking of relief, puts me in mind of a friend of mine who wanted to be relieved, in the worst way, of a barrel of over-ripe sauerkraut. When I heard his tale of woe, I laughed so that I had to go and buy a new pair of suspenders.
You see, he had a German friend who had the kraut and didn't know what to do with it, so he offered to send it home to my friend Jenkins. Jenkins accepted and stored it in his cellar.
The next day, the fellow upstairs, named McCarthy, came down and raised thunder with his wife. When Jenkins came home he heard all about it. He went upstairs and saw the offender.
"Say," says he, "I understand you object to the smell down in my cellar."
"No," says McCarthy, "I don't object to it down there, but when it opens the cellar door and creeps upstairs I do object. It kept me awake all last night."
"Well," said Jenkins, "I'll put it out in the yard behind the dog house."
And he did.
The next morning he went out to feed the dog and found him – dead.
That day nine families moved out of Jenkins' flat, and the tenth was just going when he donated the kraut to an orphan asylum. The orphans broke loose and took leg bail.
There wasn't any one but the janitor to feed it to and he threatened to quit.
The last Jenkins heard of the kraut, it was about to be shipped to Dick Croker to sod his lawn at Wantage.
I came near being put under the sod myself the other day.
I heard that one of my best and oldest friends, J. Fishpond O'Morgan, was down with rheumatism in his arm, so I went around to see him.
As soon as I showed my face in the door, Fishpond howled:
"I'm saved."
I did not know what he was driving at, so I said:
"Sure."
"I want you to do me a favor," says he. "Go around to Prof. Sockem's and tell him to give you some of the usual medicine."
I went to old Sockem's, and just caught him in.
"Doctor," says I, "my friend O'Morgan sent me around for some of the usual for gout."
"All right," says he. "Arm, I suppose. Just roll up your sleeve."
I thought I had struck a maniac, so I tried to humor him.
He came back with a suspicious-looking black bottle and I thought I was a gone goose sure. You see, I had heard so much about the black bottle.
He grabbed my wrist in a grip of iron, poured some of the black bottle stuff on my arm and began to rub it, gently.
Then he began to rub harder and faster, and I could see my arm swell up like a pillow under the fearful treatment.
I kicked, and finally managed to break loose.
"You confounded scoundrel," I says, "what do you mean by assulting me?"
"Assulting you?" says he; "you wanted some of the usual and you got it good and hard, but let me sell you some of my medicine for swollen arms. It's the best thing in the world for such cases."
Did you ever notice what a lot of trouble a simple, little girl may make? Oh! you girls. You're never happy unless you're making some poor lobster show how much money he has, by blowing it in on you.
You know, though, girls, I appreciate you, if no one else does.
If it weren't for you, I'll bet a dollar to Rockfeller's oil-can that none of the young fellows I see here to-night would have ever thought of coming here.
Now I'm going to sing you a little warble entitled:
"What a Surprisingly Fresh Man That Jones Is; or, I'd Like to Meet Him Outside."
Many a man has often cussed,
For only an innocent maid;
Many a bank has gone in the dust,
For just an innocent maid;
Many a judge has not been just,
To only an innocent maid;
Many a saint went on a bust,
For just an innocent maid.
Cho. When Johnny goes to his lady's house
She
