In Lighter Mood

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IN LIGHTER MOOD.

Chauncy M. Depew is quoted in Harper's Weekly as saying: "Whenever 1 hear the accusation that my speeches are too long, I am reminded of the story told by Horace Porter. It was about an Irish- man who went into an East Side barber shop to get his hair cut. He had been imbibing pretty freely, and went to sleep as soon as he got fairly settled in the chair. The barber, a son of Italy, began his work, but presently a fight in the street caused him to look around, and in the act he clipped off the lower part of one of the Irishman's ears. See- ing what he had done, he set up a terrible howling and awoke his cus- tomer. " 'Phwat's th' matter?' demanded Pat. " 'Matter? Sapriste! I cut off part of your ear,' wailed the barber. " 'An' phwat if ye did? he growled. 'It was too long, anyway. G'wan wid yer job.' Nat Goodwin, the actor, tells a story of an encounter with a lunatic on a country road, which makes one's hair stand on end: "I was playing in Austin, Texas, at the time, and one day strolled out along a country road which skirted the river. I had walked probably half a mile, when suddenly a man scrambled from the bushes near the water and advanced near toward me. I saw at a glance that he was crazy. His clothes were torn, his face flushed, and his eyes glittered with the fire of insanity. In one hand he grasped a huge knife. "I confess I was dismayed.The lunatic meant mischief, and there I was without a weapon of any kind to defend myself. There was not a house or human being aside from the maniac in sight. There was only one thing to do, and I did it without loss of time. I took to my heels and sprinted down the road. The lunatic shrieking with fury, darted after me. Before we had gone two hundred yards I knew that I was no match for him as a runner. Just as I made this discovery I tripped over a stone and sprawled full length in the dust. The next moment I could feel the lunatic's hot breath upon my face. Something touched my shoul- der. I thought it was that horrible knife. It wasn't. It was the mani-

ac's hand. Springing to his feet, he darted away and called out airily: '"Tag! You're it!'"