RULE 12.--Ask the bar-keeper to let you have one of our justly celebrated high tides. It will do you good. RULE 13.--Try our boneless potato salad; apply to the night watchman. RULE 14.--All the shines are not in the barber shop. Lie down, Fido. RULE 15.--That will be about all from you. JOHN HENRY AND THE BENZINE BUGGY. A cross-country dub named Montrose has been doing the Shine specialty around Clara Jane lately. He began to call evenings and bring a bunch of ready-grown flowers with him as big as a hay stack. Then he'd spread around the parlor and tell her how he won the long-distance running jump in the '01 Yale class. As you approached him from the front the first name you saw was Clarence--Clarence Edgerton Montrose. Wouldn't that slap you! I don't think Clara Jane considered him the real kittens, but he could talk fast and use long words and she found him pleasant company. She said she loved to sit and shade her eyes with the $8 fan I gave her and listen to Clarence Edgerton Montrose while he discoursed about Palestine and the Holy Land. If he was ever there he went in a hack. That's the trouble with some of those college come-outs! The Professors beat them over the head with a geography and then as soon as they get a crowd around they begin to go to the places that struck them hardest. As an honest, hard-working man it was my duty to put the boots to Edgerton and run him down the lane as far as the eye could see. So I framed up Clarence's finish with much attention to detail. I looked over Clara Jane's dates ahead and found that Clarence had rented the house for a Wednesday matinee, so I hired one of those horseless carriage things and pulled up in front of the windows just about the time I thought His Feathers would be playing the overture. I knew that Clara Jane would cancel the contract with the mutt that mixed in just as soon as she saw the automobile snap. I figured that the picture entitled "The True Lover's Departure in the Dream Wagon" would put a crimp in Clarence about the size of a barn door. It was my third or fourth time behind the lever of the busy barouche, but I was wise that you pulled the plug this way when you wanted it to go ahead, and you shoved it back when you wanted it to stop. When it came to benzine buggies I felt that my education was complete. I was George Gazazza, the real Rolando, when I pulled up in front of my lady friend's front gate. My market price was $18,000 a square inch. In six minutes by the watch Clara Jane was down and in the kerosene caravan. Clarence hadn't arrived. Somebody must have put him next, but I knew where he lived and I figured it out that after we came back from Lonely Lane I'd send the landau around and around the block he camped in till I made him dizzy. Clara Jane was the feature of the game. She was the limit in ladies' dress goods. For a chaser she wore one of those feather boas that feel cool because they look so warm.