You give me a half-column puff, and I'll make the thing square by leaving you one of the mats, with a couple of bottles of the neutralizer and a nose-guard.

I'll leave them now." "Whad d'you say ?" "I say I'll just leave you a mat and the other fixings for you to look over at your leisure." "You biserable scoundrel, if you lay wod ob those blasted thigs dowd here, I'll burder you od the spod! I wod stad such foolishness." "Won't you notice it, either ?" "Certaidly nod.

I woulded do id for ten thousad dollars a lide." "Well, 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.