odor of “fudge” issuing from a badly broken corner. “Be a
wonder she wouldn’t use a little more string—thinks perhaps
she has me on—well, I guess not,” said the Philosopher.
More rummaging followed and the heaps on both sides
of the trunk kept on increasing. I was just beginning to
wonder if the affair really had a bottom when with a cry of
“Ah! at last,” Jack brought forth a large package which
from all appearances bore signs of being something surround
ed by a frame. Things were indeed becoming interesting.
“Be a wonder the women folks wouldn't put everything in
the bottom where a fellow can’t get them—think I was go
ingto put everything away before I got to the bottom—well,
I guess not.” The wrappiug paper was now flying in all
directions, strings were tearing, and Jack was in rapture.
“Well, Sweetheart, pretty tight place away down there
and rather dark but dont let that bother you—l wonder how
the dear girl is—haven’t seen the dear thing since last
night—lucky I didn’t miss that last car—think it is about
time for a letter or I’ll have to hunt up the “long distance”—
awful glad you didn’t disappoint me-—sorry I wasn’t around
when it came—blame funny she didn’t say anything about it
last evening.” Just as the last fold of paper came off, I
was startled by a yell that brought me to my feet. There
was Jack holding at arm’s length a big card board with the
colored inscription, “Use Rap’s Horse and Cattle Powder,”
having a border of small fat porkers and other quadrupeds,
while in the corner was a small card with “Regards from
the boys at home.”
I made good my escape, missing on my retreat several
tshoes, books, and other articles, last of all being—“ Swee-
Jach’s Troubles.