  You’ve heard about the deacon, haven’t you? Deacon Jones? No? Well, well! I thought you had. The deacon went up to our minister one Sunday afternoon and told him he was looking for advice. The reverend gentleman desired to know on what particular subject he required advice. “I’ve taken to playing golf,” explained the “Ah, I see what you mean,” said the minister—“bad language.” “Exactly,” replied the pillar of the church. “Well, how would it be to put a stone in your pocket every time you found yourself using a wrong word, just as a reminder, you know?” “The very thing!” exclaimed the deacon; “thank you so much!” and departed. A few days later the worthy cleric was passing along the road which led to the links, when he met an individual whose clothes stuck out all over, with great, knobby lumps. “Gracious me, Mr. Bagshawe!” he cried, as the object approached nearer, “is that really you?” “Yes, it’s me,” grunted the voice of the deacon. “Why, you don’t mean—surely all those are not the result of my suggestion?” continued the horrified parson, gazing at the telltale bulges. “These!” snorted the other contemptuously; “why, these are only the ‘dash its.’ When I was out West I saw two miners playing cards in a place called Toughnut Cafe. They finally found their amusement rather a dull one, for neither could overreach the other. At last one of the precious pair pushed his chair back, arose, and said: “I’m tired of this; let’s have a change—I’ll jest bet yer a even thousand that I kin take them keerds and cut the jack o’ hearts the very fust time.” “I’ll take yer,” replied the other, a very quiet fellow. Stakes were deposited with an onlooker, and a pack of cards was produced and laid on the table between the gamblers. The layer of the bet thereupon drew his bowie-knife and neatly sliced the cards in two from top to bottom. “Thar,” said he, “I cut the jack o’ hearts the fust time, mister, an’ I reckon I’ll freeze “Wal, no,” said the other, “I rayther think not, for th’ jack were not there. Yer see, stranger, I thought it wiser, under the circumstances, to take the precaution of placing that there card up my sleeve!” Jap Johnson told me that! The greatest man to jump into a town and get acquainted with folks I ever saw, Jap was. Give Jap a night and a day in a country place and everybody there would call him by his first name, and he’d call everybody the same way, even the girls. In forty-eight hours he’d know every man, woman, child, horse, dog and cat in the town, and could tell who married who, who got drunk once in a while, and who had fits or rheumatics. Give him three days in a town and he’d have every bit of the gossip The biggest thing he ever did, though, was about four years ago. He had four hours to spend in a little town out west. In that time he sold two bales of goods, was invited to dinner by the mayor, decided four bets, was referee in a dog-fight, proposed marriage and was accepted by the belle of the place, borrowed ten dollars from her pa, beat another man two games of billiards, and, it happening to be election day, he capped the whole by sailing in and having himself elected town clerk by a majority of eleven votes. |
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