“I walked in my house awhile ago and the first thing I noticed was some blood spots on the kitchen floor. And then I seen how everything was mussed up, so that give me a kind of a start, and I dropped everything and went on into the settin’-room, and there was my wife stretched out on the floor, plum’ unconscious, with a club layin’ alongside her where somebody had knocked her cold. It certainly was a terrible surprise. Here I come home, tired out after fishin’ all day long——” “How was the fishin’?” inquired the friend. § 103 The Proper Remedy at Last Possibly inspired by the missionary work of Pussyfoot Johnson, a Scotch Minister undertook a temperance crusade among the members of his flock. He announced that on a certain Sabbath he would deliver a sermon upon the evils of strong drink, with physical illustrations to prove his argument. Upon the appointed morning a congregation which crowded the kirk greeted him. The dominie lost no time in making his demonstration. Upon the pulpit he placed two glasses; one containing whiskey and the other spring water. Then in an impressive silence he brought a small box from his coat pocket, opened the box and produced a long wriggling worm. First he dipped the worm in the tumbler of water, where it coiled and twisted happily. Then he dropped it into the whiskey. Instantly the hapless creature shriveled, and after a few feeble contortions became limp and lifeless. Hauling forth the dead thing and holding it in plain view of all present the minister said: “Now then, my brethren, behold the effects of strong spirits upon this wee creature. In the water it took no harm; but the first contact with this foul stuff here instantly destroyed it. Need I say or do more to convince you of the effects of whiskey?” From the body of the church there rose up a lantern-jawed person. “Meenister,” he said, “might I ask where ye got the whusky in that tumbler?” “I’m glad you put that question,” said the clergyman. “I purchased it at that den of iniquity, the public-house, which stands at the top of the street not a hundred yards from this place of worship.” “Thank ye,” said the parishioner. “I’ll be goin’ there on the morrow. I’ve been troubled with worms myself.” § 104 An Anniversary to Be Remembered Differences of an acute nature arose in a crap game on the Nashville wharf. The dispute had to do with the ownership of a five dollar bill. For possession of it there were two claimants,—a resident roustabout and a truculent-looking stranger from up St. Louis way. The argument reached a crucial and critical stage. The right hand of the visiting nobleman stole slowly back toward his hip pocket. “Nigger,” he inquired softly of his enemy, “whut date is dis?” “I ain’t payin’ no heed to de dates,” said the Nashville darky. “Well, you better do so,” said the stranger, “’cause jest twelve months frum to-day you’ll a’been daid perzackly one yeah.”