Being now without servants, I decided that I should be free from persecution in the luxurious wilderness of a great hotel. Upon getting into bed in my room in the twelfth story, a dreadful contact caused me to leap to the floor, where my foot dashed down upon some similar dreadfulness, and the shock threw me flat on my face and stomach, only to feel myself instantly plastered with more of the same odious and encasing substance. I believe that I shouted loudly in the dark for some time before hotel employees rushed to my succor; the door was burst open and the light turned on. It was fly-paper; and much time was consumed in relieving my person of it. Every piece bore its motto, such as:-- If you'll but drop the e in pi Better on stomach pi will li. and also:-- The b in lam 's not worth a dam-- and others. As early as possible the next morning I sent a message of capitulation to Masticator B. Fellows. What can I do for you? was the message; and the reply came back:-- Delighted you are with us. Private car train twenty-one to-day. The secretary of Masticator was at the steps of the car and presented me at once to a most lovely girl. At the news she was to serve on the Simplified Spelling Committee with me, my heart bounded, every doubt left me, and I exclaimed:-- "I will spell just as you say." "Then," she most sweetly returned, "never let us consent to any simplification of kiss." And I counted such answer a very happy omen. She had come from a woman's college, and her important work on the authorship of Shakespeare's plays had demonstrated, beyond refutation, that the plays had been written by Queen Elizabeth, in collaboration with Sir Walter Raleigh and Lady Jane Grey. "Shall we be in Harrisburg soon, Mr. Kibosh?" she asked the secretary. "It will be ten minutes after seven, Miss Appleby." "And that is a whole three hours!" she cried, with no pleasure in her voice. "Here is some good chickle," said Kibosh. And when she would take none, "Then I will," he said. "The private stock of Masticator B. Fellows. The public gets nothing like this." He took a small object from the box that he held and put it in his mouth; and soon, while the train sped on, his large long jaws were oscillating with a smooth motion, and content, like a lukewarm glaze, overspread his immense bald features. Thus it came to me what chickle was. "Chewing-gum!" I exclaimed! Kibosh opened gentle eyes upon me. "We do not use that word at Arkansopolis." He smiled, removed the plastic morsel from his mouth, and placed it on the window-sill, that he might speak to me without impediment. "We always say chickle at Arkansopolis. We like that better. Masticator B. Fellows likes that better. When his genius bought up the small plants----" "Is there a chewing-gum trust, too?" asked Miss Appleby.