The deacon looked him over and says:
"Will the brother relate his experiences?"
I judged that Percy would have a very large contract on his hands, but
he went at it like a man.
Everybody was shouting something, so every time Percy said anything, I
shouted:
"Thank Heaven for that."
"Ladies and gentlemen," says he, "I've been a villain of the deepest
dye."
"Thank Heaven for that," says I.
Percy looked at me and continued:
"Often I have felt tempted to commit suicide."
"Thank Heaven for that," says I.
"I'm heart and soul in the noble cause, but I'm penniless."
"Thank Heaven for that," says I.
Percy went on:
"I know that these noble men and women will raise a subscription to
enable me to carry out my aims."
"Thank Heaven for that," says I.
Say, the way Percy got money surprised me.
[Illustration]
Finally, we got clear of the tent and just sloped for it.
The next town a constable was waiting for us.
He spotted Percy right away.
"You're wanted for obtaining money under false pretenses," says he.
He took Percy to the court, which was held in the rear of a grocery
store.
Going in, I knocked a big cheese off the counter and stooped to pick it
up.
"That's all right," says the grocer, "it knows its own way around the
counter by this time."
The judge asked Percy what his profession was.
"I'm an actor," says Percy. "When I'm on the stage I become so absorbed
in my part that the theatre vanishes, the audience disappears----"
"Yes," commented the judge, "they go out and ask for their money back.
What were you before you became a loafer?" asked the judge.
"I was a gentleman," says Percy.
"That's a good business, but you're not the only one who failed in it,"
says the judge. "Now what have you to say in your defense?"
"I must wait till my lawyer arrives," says he.
"Why," says the judge, "you were caught red-handed with the goods on.
What could your lawyer say that would influence my decision?"
"That's just what I want to find out," says Percy. "But give me a little
time and I will explain all."
"All right," says the judge. "Six years at hard labor. I hope you will
be able to explain when you get out, or back you'll go for another six."
[Illustration]
I was so afraid that the judge would give me time to explain why I was
with Percy that I started to run and didn't stop until I got to Boston.
Now I'm going to sing you a little song, entitled: "He Made a Foolish
Break And Got The Laugh; or, Wedded Persons' Compliments."
Said a young and tactless husband
To his inexperienced wife:
"If you would but give up leading
Such a fashionable life,
And devote more time to cooking--
How to mix and when to bake--
Then, perhaps you might make pastry
Such as mother used to make."
And the wife, resenting, answered
(For the worm will turn, you know):
"If you would but give up horses
And a score of clubs or so,
To devote more time to business--
When to buy and what to stake--
Then, perhaps, you might make money,
Such as father used to make."
[Illustration]
There! I'm greatly relieved now that I've got that song off my mind. I
was afraid I might break down, because it's so touching.
Talking of relief, puts me in mind of a friend of mine who wanted to be
relieved, in the worst way, of a barrel of over-ripe sauerkraut. When I
heard his tale of woe, I laughed so that I had to go and buy a new pair
of suspenders.
You see, he had a German friend who had the kraut and didn't know what
to do with it, so he offered to send it home to my friend Jenkins.
Jenkins accepted and stored it in his cellar.
[Illustration]
The next day, the fellow upstairs, named McCarthy, came down and raised
thunder with his wife. When Jenkins came home he heard all about it. He
went upstairs and saw the offender.
"Say," says he, "I understand you object to the smell down in my
cellar."
"No," says McCarthy, "I don't object to it down there, but when it opens
the cellar door and creeps upstairs I do object. It kept me awake all
last night."
"Well," said Jenkins, "I'll put it out in the yard behind the dog
house."
[Illustration]
And he did.
The next morning he went out to feed the dog and found him--dead.
That day nine families moved out of Jenkins' flat, and the tenth was
just going when he donated the kraut to an orphan asylum. The orphans
broke loose and took leg bail.
There wasn't any one but the janitor to feed it to and he threatened to
quit.
The last Jenkins heard of the kraut, it was about to be shipped to Dick
Croker to sod his lawn at Wantage.