A long, long time ago, while I was playing in Paris (Kentucky!) a party of ladies and gentlemen came down from Mount Sterling to witness our performance thinking they could leave Paris and get to Lexington the same evening. Unfortunately the railroad had changed its schedule and there was no train out until the following morning. My private car was waiting for me and I had taken the precaution to charter an engine to take me back to Lexington after the performance. When I arrived at the station I found the party very much disturbed at the prospect of having to remain in Paris over night. I sent my secretary to them and he placed my car at their disposal. He told them that there was a nice supper prepared and that they were welcome to whatever the chef could furnish. I would remain in my stateroom and not interfere with their party. They accepted the invitation, but insisted that I join their party which consisted of three men and three women. One young lady in particular attracted my attention with her radiant beauty. She was a magnificent creature, blonde and erect, possessing the complexion given only to those living in the Blue Grass country. During the journey I had little time to talk with her as one of the other young ladies who came from Boston usurped all my time discussing the drama and other topics equally uninteresting to me. The beautiful blonde lady told the manager of the theatre at Lexington (he was a friend of hers, as well as of mine) that she considered me a very dull person. The manager defended me as best he could and told her that I was to dine with his family that night and he would be pleased to have her do likewise. She consented and that evening we met and had a jolly time. I found her most intelligent and so far as my career on and off the stage was concerned she was a walking encyclopedia. In fact she knew more about my vagaries than I did myself, but as we progressed along lines of casual conversation I thought that I discovered a little scepticism relative to my supposed proclivities for wrong-doing. She asked me if I desired any beverage and I, trying to display proper gallantry, suggested the cool and refreshing draught, the wine of the country, Kentucky Bourbon. As she poured out a small glass of the liquor she remarked, "I really thought that you were going to ask for a glass of metheglin." "I have been drinking the ingredients which form that compound the entire evening," I replied. She looked at me very intently as I swallowed the whiskey, then suddenly wheeled about and with a half hysterical note in her voice, said, "I don't believe it!" Not having the remotest idea as to what she had reference I answered, "No more do I!" She then said, "You don't understand!" I gasped, "Quite right!" She gently took my hand in hers and in a sweet, sad voice said:--