During the week of the Fair there occurred an incident which is worth
recording. A big six-foot bully was shooting off his mouth in the rotunda
of a hotel, evidently having had a snifter or two, announcing that he
could lick anybody in sight. A quiet little man came from a seat in the
corner, and, walking straight up to the giant, called him a four-flusher.
The bully thereupon handed the little man a biff on the jaw, a smash
between the eyes and lifted him two feet off the floor with an uppercut.
The little man was carried upstairs and put to bed.
(We apologize for the unhappy ending of this story, realizing that it
should have been the other way about. But truth must prevail in these
columns at all costs.)—Bob Edwards’ Book.
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