A good story is told of ex-governor Magottin, of Kentucky, who is a good talker and likes to do most of the talking himself. Recently, in making the journey from Cincinnati to Lexington, he shared his seat in the car with a bright-eyed, pleasant-faced gentleman. The Governor, after a few common-place remarks, to which his companion smiled and nodded assent, branched into a description of the scenes that he had witnessed in different parts of the country, grew eloquent over the war, described with glowing speech the numerous horse races he had witnessed, talked learnedly of breeding, and told thrilling stories of his battles with the Indians in the North-West. The hours slipped rapidly away, and when the train was nearing Lexington the two exchanged cards and parted with a cordial shake of hands. The Governor drove to an inn, and to a number of friends he remarked that the ride had never seemed so short before. "Then you must have had pleasant company aboard." "You are right. I met a gentleman of unusual intelligence. We conversed all the way over. I never was brought in contact with a more agreeable man." "Indeed! Who was he?" asked his friends. "Wait a minute; I have his card," and the Governor felt in his pockets and produced the bit of pasteboard. "His name is King." "Not Bob King?" shouted a dozen in one breath. "Yes, gentlemen; Robert King—that is the way the card reads," was the proud reply. A roar of laughter followed. "Why, Governor, Bob King is as deaf as a post; he was born deaf and dumb!"