"Do you mean to tell me," gasped the horrified gentleman from Boston, "that this man you speak of was shot and killed at a meeting of your debating society, and by the presiding officer himself, during the discussion of a question, simply because he arose and made a motion that was considered out of order?" "He certainly was, sure," said the colonel. "This is simply awful," said the traveler. "I must make a note of this occurrence so that the people of my State can be apprised of the dreadful lawlessness that prevails in this section--a man shot down and killed at a social and educational meeting for the infringement of an unimportant parliamentary error! It is awful to contemplate." "That's whatever," said the colonel reflectively. "It is for a fact. But you might state, in order to do justice to our community and town, which is, as it were, the Athens of Texas, that the motion made by the deceased was in the direction of his hip pocket. Shall we all liquor?" The Old Farm Just now when the whitening blossoms flare. On the apple trees, and the growing grass Creeps forth, and a balm is in the air; With my lighted pipe and well-filled glass Of the old farm I am dreaming, And softly smiling, seeming To see the bright sun beaming Upon the old home farm. And when I think how we milked the cows, And hauled the hay from the meadows low, And walked the furrows behind the plows, And chapped the cotton to make it grow, I'd much rather be here dreaming, And, smiling, only seeming To see that hot sun beaming Upon the old home farm. Willing to Compromise As he walked up to the bar he pulled up his collar with both hands and straightened the old red tie that was trying to creep around under one ear. The bartender glanced at him and then went on chipping lemon peel into a saucer. "Say," said the man with the red tie, "it makes me right sick to think about it." "What?" said the bartender, "water?" "No sir; the apathy displayed by the people of the state in regard to presenting the battleship Texas with a suitable present. It is a disgrace to our patriotism. I was talking to W. G. Cleveland this morning and we both agreed that something must be done at once. Would you give ten dollars toward a silver service to be presented to the ship?" The bartender reached behind him and took up a glass that was sitting on the shelf. "I don't know that I would give you ten dollars," he said, "but here's some whisky that I put some turpentine in by mistake this morning and forgot to throw it out. Will that do as well?" "It will," said the man with the red tie, reaching for the glass, "and I am also soliciting aid for the Cuban patriots. If you want to assist the cause of liberty and can't spare the cash, if you could rustle up a glass of beer with a fly in it, I would--"