“Certainly, doctor, I am happy to contribute to the comfort of one whose future is so brightly illumined by--promise. But, nevertheless, I still maintain that it is too early in the action for you to think of a colored coachman--every third day is--” “Well, Jack,” I interrupted, “I must be going. Much obliged for your contribution to the free silver question. And, by the way, I’m just on my way to a meeting of the county commissioners. I’m slated for the County Hospital Staff.” “Oh--h--h!” groaned Jack. “Has your ambition for wealth no bounds?” A day or two later I was driving at a “sent for” gait, down Michigan Avenue, enjoying the evident admiring approbation of the people whom I met, when I saw my friend Jack a short distance ahead of me. He caught sight of me, stopped short and walked out to the curb, where he awaited me with a decidedly pleased expression on his handsome face. “Hello, doctor!” he cried, as I drove up to him and reined in my horse. “You seem to have a bad case on hand.” I winked and said, “Never mind the case. Come along with me for a ride. You have nothing else to do at this hour of the day.” “Don’t care if I do,” replied my friend, stepping into my buggy forthwith. My rig continued to attract considerable attention, much to Jack’s edification, apparently. He finally said, “Well, doctor, your turn-out does excite the interest of the public, doesn’t it?” “So I have already informed you,” I replied. “Now, see here, doctor,” said Jack, “you know that I am your friend. As a friend it is my duty to prevent you from acquiring that fatal pride which ever precedes a fall. I have hesitated to explain your popularity to you, but for your own sake and to preserve my own health, I must do so.” “Why, what the deuce do you mean?” I asked, in astonishment. “Look behind you, doctor.” I looked through the rear window of my phæton, and saw, about fifty yards behind me, a long, black, undertaker’s wagon. On the seat, driving the sorry-looking steeds that were drawing the horribly suggestive vehicle, was--my friend, Nathaniel Black! My undertaking friend was by no means quietly pursuing his gloomy way, but was gesticulating and winking suggestively to the people on the side walk. He would first flirt his knobby thumb in my direction with a “D’ye see him?” gesture, and then, with a “That’s what I’m here for” wink at everybody in sight, would grin all over his ugly face. “A horrible coincidence!” I said faintly. “Coincidence nothing!” howled Jack. “He’s been doing that ever since you got your new buggy!” And I bought wine for Nathaniel, and for Jack, and for sundry of their friends--yea, and for all who were within the sound of their voices in their daily walks. But, I borrowed the wherewithal to settle from Jack. And, by and by, when practice came, I gave my patronage to Nathaniel’s rivals. Was the joke on me? I wonder. * * * * *