Fergus' unsteady hand went out to the glass of water and he tossed it down his throat. "More," he gasped, gazing with feverish eyes. A member of the association in passing by stopped and laid his hand on William's shoulder. "Old man," he said in a whisper, "the boys know you've struck a soft thing, but don't carry it too far. We don't want to have to bore another artesian well." William shot a glance of displeasure at the young man, and he went away. Just then a quartette began to sing "Come, Thou Fount," and Fergus, forgetting all his associations and best impulses, joined in with his strong tenor, and William Meeks' face wore a look of fiendish gloating. At this moment Kathleen was weeping in her mother's arms. Mr. O'Malley was just ramming down the wad on the buckshot in his gun, and the beautiful wedding supper was growing cold upon the banquet table. Suddenly in the street before the hall a brass band began to play an air that was Kathleen's favorite. It brought Fergus to his senses. He sprang to his feet and overturned the table and William Meeks. William sprang to his feet, rushed to the cooler and drawing a glass of water thrust it into Fergus' hands. Fergus hurled the glass to the floor and made a dash for the door. The secretary of the association met him there with the water hose and turned it full in his face. Fergus shut his mouth tightly, put the secretary to sleep with one on the point of his chin, and dashed down the stairs into the street. * * * * * As the clock struck nine, Mr. O'Malley placed two caps on his gun and one upon his head and started to find his son-in-law elect. The door burst open and Fergus rushed in. Kathleen ran to meet him with open arms, but he waved her sternly aside. "I have first," he said, "a duty to perform." He knelt before the whiskey keg, closed his mouth over the faucet and turned on the handle. Sing, happy birds, in the green trees, but your songs make not half the melody that ripples in the glad heart of little Kathleen. When Fergus arose from the keg, he was the same old Fergus once more. He gathered his bride to his heart, and Mr. O'Malley fired both barrels of his gun into the ceiling with joy. Fergus was rescued. (_Houston Daily Post_, Sunday morning, April 19, 1896.) A Story for Men This little story will be a disappointment to women who read it. They will all say: "I don't see anything in that." Probably there isn't much.