diff --git a/src/epub/text/a-cheering-thought.xhtml b/src/epub/text/a-cheering-thought.xhtml index 8c2e155..82264dd 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/a-cheering-thought.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/a-cheering-thought.xhtml @@ -19,7 +19,7 @@

“That’s the way to look at it,” said the officer. “The chances are Sam wasn’t thinking about you at all.”

Durned if I believe he was, now I remember about that neighbor of mine,” said the penitent, beginning to brighten up. “You don’t know what a weight you’ve taken off my mind. I was just feeling like I was one of the worst sinners in the world. I’ll bet any man ten dollars he was talking right straight at that miserable, contemptible scalawag that sat right behind me. Say, come on and let’s go out and take somethin’, will you?”

The officer declined and the weary-looking man ran his finger down his neck and pulled his collar up into sight and said:

-

“I’ll never forget your kindness, sir, in helping me out of this worry. It has made me feel bad all day. I am going out to the race-track now, and take the field against the favorite for a few plunks. Good day, I shall always remember your kindness.”

+

“I’ll never forget your kindness, sir, in helping me out of this worry. It has made me feel bad all day. I am going out to the racetrack now, and take the field against the favorite for a few plunks. Good day, I shall always remember your kindness.”

diff --git a/src/epub/text/a-fatal-error.xhtml b/src/epub/text/a-fatal-error.xhtml index 1d53a20..75af7e8 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/a-fatal-error.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/a-fatal-error.xhtml @@ -9,9 +9,9 @@

A Fatal Error

What are you looking so glum about?” asked a Houston man as he dropped into a friend’s office on Christmas Day.

-

“Same old fool break of putting a letter in the wrong envelope, and I’m afraid to go home. My wife sent me down a note by the hired man an hour ago, telling me to send her ten dollars, and asking me to meet her here at the office at three o’clock and go shopping with her. At the same time I got a bill for ten dollars from a merchant I owe, asking me to remit. I scribbled off a note to the merchant saying: ‘Can’t possibly do it. I’ve got to meet another little thing to-day that won’t be put off.’ I made the usual mistake and sent the merchant the ten dollars and my wife the note.”

+

“Same old fool break of putting a letter in the wrong envelope, and I’m afraid to go home. My wife sent me down a note by the hired man an hour ago, telling me to send her ten dollars, and asking me to meet her here at the office at three o’clock and go shopping with her. At the same time I got a bill for ten dollars from a merchant I owe, asking me to remit. I scribbled off a note to the merchant saying: ‘Can’t possibly do it. I’ve got to meet another little thing today that won’t be put off.’ I made the usual mistake and sent the merchant the ten dollars and my wife the note.”

“Can’t you go home and explain the mistake to your wife?”

-

“You don’t know her. I’ve done all I can. I’ve taken out an accident policy for $10,000 good for two hours, and I expect her here in fifteen minutes. Tell all the boys good-by for me, and if you meet a lady on the stairs as you go down keep close to the wall.”

+

“You don’t know her. I’ve done all I can. I’ve taken out an accident policy for $10,000 good for two hours, and I expect her here in fifteen minutes. Tell all the boys goodbye for me, and if you meet a lady on the stairs as you go down keep close to the wall.”

diff --git a/src/epub/text/a-green-hand.xhtml b/src/epub/text/a-green-hand.xhtml index 73cc895..e1a5fc7 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/a-green-hand.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/a-green-hand.xhtml @@ -11,7 +11,7 @@

“I shall never again employ any but experienced salesmen, who thoroughly understand the jewelry business,” said a Houston jeweler to a friend yesterday.

“You see, at Christmas time we generally need more help, and sometimes employ people who can sell goods, but are not familiar with the fine points of the business. Now, that young man over there is thoroughly good and polite to every one, but he has just lost me one of my best customers.”

“How was that?” asked the friend.

-

“A man who always trades with us came in with his wife last week and with her assistance selected a magnificent diamond pin that he had promised her for a Christmas present and told this young man to lay it aside for him till to-day.”

+

“A man who always trades with us came in with his wife last week and with her assistance selected a magnificent diamond pin that he had promised her for a Christmas present and told this young man to lay it aside for him till today.”

“I see, said the friend, “and he sold it to someone else and disappointed him.”

“It’s plain you don’t know much about married men, said the jeweler. “That idiot of a clerk actually saved the pin for him and he had to buy it.”

diff --git a/src/epub/text/a-narrow-escape.xhtml b/src/epub/text/a-narrow-escape.xhtml index dec0312..b18d727 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/a-narrow-escape.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/a-narrow-escape.xhtml @@ -17,7 +17,7 @@

“Thanks, that’s all,” said the meek man, as he went around to the front again.

He leaned thoughtfully on the bar and said: “I shot that hole in there just nine years ago. I came in feeling pretty thirsty and had no money. The bartender refused me a drink and I commenced firing. That ball went through his ear and five bottles of champagne before it stopped. I then yelled quite loudly, and two men broke their arms trying to get out the door, and the bartender trembled so when he mixed a drink for me you would have thought he was putting up a milk shake for a girl who wanted to catch a street car.”

“Yes?” said the bartender.

-

“Yes, sir, I am feeling a little out of sorts to-day, and it always makes me real cross and impatient when I get that way. A little gin and bitters always helps me. It was six times, I think, that I fired, the time I was telling you about. Straight whisky would do if the gin is out.”

+

“Yes, sir, I am feeling a little out of sorts today, and it always makes me real cross and impatient when I get that way. A little gin and bitters always helps me. It was six times, I think, that I fired, the time I was telling you about. Straight whisky would do if the gin is out.”

“If I had any fly paper,” said the bartender, sweetly, “I would stick you on it and set you in the back window; but I am out, consequently, I shall have to adopt harsher measures. I shall tie a knot in this towel, and then count ten, and walk around the end of the bar. That will give you time to do your shooting, and I’ll see that you let out that same old yell that you spoke of.”

“Wait a moment,” said the meek man. “Come to think of it, my doctor ordered me not to drink anything for six weeks. But you had a narrow escape all the same. I think I shall go down to the next drug store and fall in a fit on the sidewalk. That’s good for some peppermint and aromatic spirits of ammonia, anyhow.”

diff --git a/src/epub/text/a-righteous-outburst.xhtml b/src/epub/text/a-righteous-outburst.xhtml index 123dcfa..f955b78 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/a-righteous-outburst.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/a-righteous-outburst.xhtml @@ -9,12 +9,12 @@

A Righteous Outburst

He smelled of gin and his whiskers resembled the cylinder of a Swiss music box. He walked into a toy shop on Main Street yesterday and leaned sorrowfully against the counter.

-

“Anything to-day?” asked the proprietor coldly.

+

“Anything today?” asked the proprietor coldly.

He wiped an eye with a dingy red handkerchief and said:

-

“Nothing at all, thank you. I just came inside to shed a tear. I do not like to obtrude my grief upon the passers-by. I have a little daughter, sir; five years of age, with curly golden hair. Her name is Lilian. She says to me this morning: ‘Papa, will Santa Claus bring me a red wagon for Christmas? It completely unmanned me, sir, as, alas, I am out of work and penniless. Just think, one little red wagon would bring her happiness, and there are children who have hundreds of red wagons.”

+

“Nothing at all, thank you. I just came inside to shed a tear. I do not like to obtrude my grief upon the passersby. I have a little daughter, sir; five years of age, with curly golden hair. Her name is Lilian. She says to me this morning: ‘Papa, will Santa Claus bring me a red wagon for Christmas? It completely unmanned me, sir, as, alas, I am out of work and penniless. Just think, one little red wagon would bring her happiness, and there are children who have hundreds of red wagons.”

“Before you go out,” said the proprietor, “which you are going to do in about fifteen seconds, I am willing to inform you that I have a branch store on Trains Street, and was around there yesterday. You came in and made the same talk about your little girl, whom you called Daisy, and I gave you a wagon. It seems you don’t remember your little girl’s name very well.”

The man drew himself up with dignity, and started for the door. When nearly there, he turned and said:

-

“Her name is Lilian Daisy, sir, and the wagon you gave me had a rickety wheel and some of the paint was scratched off the handle. I have a friend who tends bar on Willow Street, who is keeping it for me till Christmas, but I will feel a flush of shame on your behalf, sir, when Lilian Daisy sees that old, slab-sided, squeaking, second-hand, left-over-from-last-year’s-stock wagon. But, sir, when Lilian Daisy kneels at her little bed at night I shall get her to pray for you, and ask Heaven to have mercy on you. Have you one of your business cards handy, so Lilian Daisy can get your name right in her petitions?”

+

“Her name is Lilian Daisy, sir, and the wagon you gave me had a rickety wheel and some of the paint was scratched off the handle. I have a friend who tends bar on Willow Street, who is keeping it for me till Christmas, but I will feel a flush of shame on your behalf, sir, when Lilian Daisy sees that old, slab-sided, squeaking, secondhand, leftover-from-last-year’s-stock wagon. But, sir, when Lilian Daisy kneels at her little bed at night I shall get her to pray for you, and ask Heaven to have mercy on you. Have you one of your business cards handy, so Lilian Daisy can get your name right in her petitions?”

diff --git a/src/epub/text/a-slight-mistake.xhtml b/src/epub/text/a-slight-mistake.xhtml index a95d611..563b81e 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/a-slight-mistake.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/a-slight-mistake.xhtml @@ -46,7 +46,7 @@

“The reading matter that follows is, as you see, typewritten, and easily read. Now, I⁠—”

-

“D⁠⸺n it,” said the business manager. “Don’t you come in here reading your old spring poems to me. I’ve been bored already to-day with a lot of ink and paper drummers. Why don’t you go to work instead of fooling away your time on rot like that?”

+

“D⁠⸺n it,” said the business manager. “Don’t you come in here reading your old spring poems to me. I’ve been bored already today with a lot of ink and paper drummers. Why don’t you go to work instead of fooling away your time on rot like that?”

“I didn’t mean to bother you,” said the other man, rolling up his manuscript. “Is there another paper in the city?”

“Yes, there’s a few. Have you got a family?”

“Yes, sir.”

diff --git a/src/epub/text/a-sporting-interest.xhtml b/src/epub/text/a-sporting-interest.xhtml index d4c5352..54d1ff5 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/a-sporting-interest.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/a-sporting-interest.xhtml @@ -15,7 +15,7 @@

These rough men shrink like children from telling her. They dread to bear the news that will change her smiles to awful sorrow and lamentation.

“You go, Mike,” three or four of them say at once. “ ’Tis more lamin’ ye have than any av us, whatever, and ye’ll be afther brakin’ the news to her as aisy as ye can. Be off wid ye now, and shpake gently to Tim’s poor lassie while we thry to get the corpse in shape.”

Mike is a pleasant-faced man, young and stalwart, and with a last look at his unfortunate comrade he goes slowly down the street toward the cottage where the fair young wife⁠—alas, now a widow⁠—lives.

-

When he arrives, he does not hesitate. He is tender-hearted, but strong. He lifts the gate latch and walks firmly to the door. There is something in his face, before he speaks, that tells her the truth.

+

When he arrives, he does not hesitate. He is tenderhearted, but strong. He lifts the gate latch and walks firmly to the door. There is something in his face, before he speaks, that tells her the truth.

“What was it?’ she asks, “spontaneous combustion or snakes?”

“Derrick fell,” says Mike.

“Then I’ve lost my bet,” she says. “I thought sure it would be whisky.”

diff --git a/src/epub/text/a-startling-demonstration.xhtml b/src/epub/text/a-startling-demonstration.xhtml index 5dadb45..27e256c 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/a-startling-demonstration.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/a-startling-demonstration.xhtml @@ -11,9 +11,9 @@

What a terrible state of affairs it would be if we could read each other’s minds! It is safe to say that if such were the case, most of us would be afraid to think above a whisper.

As an illustration, a case might be cited that occurred in Houston. Some months ago a very charming young lady came to this city giving exhibitions in mind reading, and proved herself to be marvelously gifted in that respect. She easily read the thoughts of the audience, finding many articles hidden by simply holding the hand of the person secreting them, and read sentences written on little slips of paper by some at a considerable distance from her.

A young man in Houston fell in love with her, and married her after a short courtship. They went to housekeeping and for a time were as happy as mortals can be.

-

One evening they were sitting on the porch of their residence holding each other’s hands, and wrapt in the close communion of mutual love, when she suddenly rose and knocked him down the steps with a large flower-pot. He arose astonished, with a big bump on his head, and asked her, if it were not too much trouble, to explain.

+

One evening they were sitting on the porch of their residence holding each other’s hands, and wrapt in the close communion of mutual love, when she suddenly rose and knocked him down the steps with a large flowerpot. He arose astonished, with a big bump on his head, and asked her, if it were not too much trouble, to explain.

“You can’t fool me,” she said with flashing eyes. “You were thinking of a redheaded girl named Maud with a gold plug in her front tooth and a light pink waist and a black silk skirt on Rusk Avenue, standing under a cedar bush chewing gum at twenty minutes to eight with your arm around her waist and calling her ‘sweetness,’ while she fooled with your watch chain and said: ‘Oh, George, give me a chance to breathe,’ and her mother was calling her to supper. Don’t you dare to deny it. Now, when you can get your mind on something better than that, you can come in the house and not before.”

-

Then the door slammed and George and the broken flower-pot were alone.

+

Then the door slammed and George and the broken flowerpot were alone.

diff --git a/src/epub/text/a-sure-method.xhtml b/src/epub/text/a-sure-method.xhtml index 040de8b..2167bbc 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/a-sure-method.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/a-sure-method.xhtml @@ -11,7 +11,7 @@

The editor sat in his palatially furnished sanctum bending over a mass of manuscripts, resting his beetling brow upon his hand. It wanted but one hour of the time of going to press and there was that editorial on the Venezuelan question to write. A pale, intellectual youth approached him with a rolled manuscript tied with a pink ribbon.

“It is a little thing,” said the youth, “that I dashed off in an idle moment.”

The editor unrolled the poem and glanced down the long row of verses. He then drew from his pocket a $20 bill and held it toward the poet. A heavy thud was heard, and at the tinkle of an electric bell the editor’s minions entered and carried the lifeless form of the poet away.

-

“That’s three to-day,” muttered the great editor as he returned the bill to his pocket. “It works better than a gun or a club and the coroner always brings in a verdict of heart failure.”

+

“That’s three today,” muttered the great editor as he returned the bill to his pocket. “It works better than a gun or a club and the coroner always brings in a verdict of heart failure.”

diff --git a/src/epub/text/after-supper.xhtml b/src/epub/text/after-supper.xhtml index d67cadb..1cc79af 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/after-supper.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/after-supper.xhtml @@ -8,7 +8,7 @@

After Supper

-

Mr. Sharp: “My darling, it seems to me that every year that passes over your head but brings out some new charm, some hidden beauty, some added grace. There is a look in your eyes to-night that is as charming and girllike as when I first met you. What a blessing it is when two hearts can grow but fonder as time flies. You are scarcely less beautiful now than when—”

+

Mr. Sharp: “My darling, it seems to me that every year that passes over your head but brings out some new charm, some hidden beauty, some added grace. There is a look in your eyes tonight that is as charming and girllike as when I first met you. What a blessing it is when two hearts can grow but fonder as time flies. You are scarcely less beautiful now than when—”

Mrs. Sharp: “I had forgotten it was lodge night, Robert. Don’t be out much after twelve, if you can help it.”

diff --git a/src/epub/text/an-expensive-veracity.xhtml b/src/epub/text/an-expensive-veracity.xhtml index b77af86..e35d21c 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/an-expensive-veracity.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/an-expensive-veracity.xhtml @@ -15,7 +15,7 @@

“Rather heavy,” he answered, “and about half done.”

His wife flounced out of the dining room and he ate breakfast with the children. Ordinarily Henry would have said, “They are very fine, my dear,” and all would have been well.

As he went out the gate, his rich old aunt, with whom he had always been a favorite, drove up. She was curled, and stayed, and powdered to look as young as possible.

-

“Oh, Henry,” she simpered. “How are Ella and the children? I would come in but I’m looking such a fright to-day I’m not fit to be seen.”

+

“Oh, Henry,” she simpered. “How are Ella and the children? I would come in but I’m looking such a fright today I’m not fit to be seen.”

“Yes,” said Henry, “you do. It’s a good thing your horse has a blind bridle on, for if he got a sight of you he’d run away and break your neck.”

His aunt glared furiously at him and drove away without saying a word.

Henry figured it up afterward and found that every word he said to her cost him $8,000.

diff --git a/src/epub/text/an-inspiration.xhtml b/src/epub/text/an-inspiration.xhtml index 1db94e8..f557edf 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/an-inspiration.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/an-inspiration.xhtml @@ -22,7 +22,7 @@

“What?”

“You say the walls are bulging out?”

“Well, that makes more room everywhere. You just raise all your tenants’ rent on account of the extra space.”

-

“Young man, you’re a genius. I’ll put rents up twenty per cent to-morrow.”

+

“Young man, you’re a genius. I’ll put rents up twenty percent tomorrow.”

And one more capitalist was saved.

diff --git a/src/epub/text/an-original-idea.xhtml b/src/epub/text/an-original-idea.xhtml index 9372a2a..1d4645c 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/an-original-idea.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/an-original-idea.xhtml @@ -15,7 +15,7 @@

That night when her husband came home he noticed a curtain stretched across one end of the sitting room, but he had so long been used to innovations of all sorts that he was rather afraid to investigate.

It might be stated apropos to the story that the lady’s husband was addicted to the use of beer.

He not only liked beer, but he fondly loved beer. Beer never felt the slightest jealousy when this gentleman was out of its sight.

-

After supper the lady said: “Now, Robert, I have a little surprise for you. There is no need of your going down town to-night, as you generally do, because I have arranged our home so that it will supply all the pleasures that you go out to seek.”

+

After supper the lady said: “Now, Robert, I have a little surprise for you. There is no need of your going down town tonight, as you generally do, because I have arranged our home so that it will supply all the pleasures that you go out to seek.”

With that she drew the curtain and Robert saw that one end of the sitting room had been fitted up as a bar⁠—or rather his wife’s idea of a bar.

A couple of strips of the carpet had been taken up and sawdust strewn on the floor. The kitchen table extended across the end of the room, and back of this on a shelf were arranged a formidable display of bottles, of all shapes and sizes, while the mirror of the best dresser had been taken off and placed artistically in the center.

On a trestle stood a fresh keg of beer and his wife, who had put on a coquettish-looking cap and apron, tripped lightly behind the bar, and waving a beer mug coyly at him said:

@@ -23,7 +23,7 @@

Robert leaned against the bar and pawed the floor fruitlessly three or four times, trying to find the foot rest. He was a little stunned, as he always was at his wife’s original ideas. Then he braced himself and tried to conjure up a ghastly imitation of a smile.

‘Til take a beer, please,” he said.

His wife drew the beer, laid the nickel on the shelf and leaned on the bar, chatting familiarly on the topics of the day after the manner of bartenders.

-

“You must buy plenty, now,” she said archly, “for you are the only customer I have to-night.”

+

“You must buy plenty, now,” she said archly, “for you are the only customer I have tonight.”

Robert felt a strong oppression of spirits, which he tried to hide. Besides the beer, which was first rate, there was little to remind him of the saloons where he had heretofore spent his money.

The lights, the glittering array of crystal, the rattle of dice, the funny stories of Brown, Jones, and Robinson, the motion and color that he found in the other places were wanting.

Robert stood still for quite a while and then an original idea struck him.

diff --git a/src/epub/text/board-and-ancestors.xhtml b/src/epub/text/board-and-ancestors.xhtml index e3b6242..692adcf 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/board-and-ancestors.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/board-and-ancestors.xhtml @@ -9,7 +9,7 @@

Board and Ancestors

The snake reporter of the Post was wending his way homeward last night when he was approached by a very gaunt, hungry-looking man with wild eyes and an emaciated face.

-

“Can you tell me, sir,” he inquired, “where I can find in Houston a family of low-born scrubs?”

+

“Can you tell me, sir,” he inquired, “where I can find in Houston a family of lowborn scrubs?”

“I don’t exactly understand,” said the reporter.

“Let me tell you how it is,” said the emaciated man. “I came to Houston a month ago, and I hunted up a boarding house, as I can not afford to live at a hotel. I found a nice, aristocraticlooking place that suited me, and went inside. The landlady came in the parlor and she was a very stately lady with a Roman nose. I asked the price of board, and she said: ‘Eighty dollars per month.’ I fell against the door jamb with a dull thud, and she said:

“ ‘You seem surprised, sah. You will please remember that I am the widow of Governah Riddle of Virginia. My family is very highly connected; give you board as a favah; I never consider money an equivalent to advantage of my society. Will you have a room with a door in it?’

diff --git a/src/epub/text/by-easy-stages.xhtml b/src/epub/text/by-easy-stages.xhtml index e2ee848..ee6840b 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/by-easy-stages.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/by-easy-stages.xhtml @@ -9,7 +9,7 @@

By Easy Stages

You’re at the wrong place,” said Cerberus. “This is the gate that leads to the infernal regions, while it is a passport to Heaven that you have handed me.”

-

“I know it,” said the departed shade wearily, “but it allows a stop-over here; you see, I’m from Galveston and I have got to make the change gradually.”

+

“I know it,” said the departed shade wearily, “but it allows a stopover here; you see, I’m from Galveston and I have got to make the change gradually.”

diff --git a/src/epub/text/calculations.xhtml b/src/epub/text/calculations.xhtml index 3c56be1..cf72cf9 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/calculations.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/calculations.xhtml @@ -10,7 +10,7 @@

Calculations

Gentleman with long hair and an expression indicating heavenly resignation stepped off the twelve-thirty train at the Grand Central Depot yesterday. He had a little bunch of temperance tracts in his hand, and he struck a strong scent and followed it up to a red-nosed individual who was leaning on a trunk near the baggage room.

“My friend,” said the long-haired man, “do you know that if you had placed the price of three drinks out at compound interest at the time of the building of Solomon’s temple, you would now have $47,998,645.22?”

-

“I do,” said the red-nosed man. “I am something of a calculator myself. I also figured out when the doctor insisted on painting my nose with iodine to cure that boil, that the first lanternjawed, bone-spavined, rubber-necked son-of-a-gun from the amen corner of Meddlesome County that made any remarks about it would have to jump seventeen feet in nine seconds or get kicked thirteen times below the belt. You have just four seconds left.”

+

“I do,” said the red-nosed man. “I am something of a calculator myself. I also figured out when the doctor insisted on painting my nose with iodine to cure that boil, that the first lanternjawed, bone-spavined, rubbernecked son-of-a-gun from the amen corner of Meddlesome County that made any remarks about it would have to jump seventeen feet in nine seconds or get kicked thirteen times below the belt. You have just four seconds left.”

The long-haired man made a brilliant retreat within his allotted time, and bore down with his temperance tracts upon a suspicious-looking Houston man who was carrying home a bottle of mineral water wrapped in a newspaper to his mother-in-law.

diff --git a/src/epub/text/getting-acquainted.xhtml b/src/epub/text/getting-acquainted.xhtml index af3bad7..d0b4350 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/getting-acquainted.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/getting-acquainted.xhtml @@ -9,15 +9,15 @@

Getting Acquainted

His coat was rusty and his hat out of style, but his nose glasses, secured by a black cord, lent him a distinguished air, and his manner was jaunty and assured. He stepped into a new Houston grocery yesterday, and greeted the proprietor cordially.

-

“I’ll have to introduce myself,” he said. “My name is⁠ ⸻, and I live next door to the house you have just moved in. Saw you at church Sunday. Our minister also observed you, and after church he says, ‘Brother⁠ ⸻, you must really find out who that intelligent-looking stranger is who listened so attentively to-day.’ How did you like the sermon?”

+

“I’ll have to introduce myself,” he said. “My name is⁠ ⸻, and I live next door to the house you have just moved in. Saw you at church Sunday. Our minister also observed you, and after church he says, ‘Brother⁠ ⸻, you must really find out who that intelligent-looking stranger is who listened so attentively today.’ How did you like the sermon?”

“Very well,” said the grocer as he picked some funny-looking currants with wings out of a jar. “Yes, he is a very eloquent and pious man. You have not been in business long in Houston, have you?”

“Three weeks,” said the grocer, as he removed the cheese knife from the box to the shelf behind him.

-

“Our people,” said the rusty-looking man, “are whole-souled and hospitable. There is no welcome too warm for them to extend to a new comer, and the members of our church in particular are especially friendly toward any one who drops in to worship with us. You have a nice stock of goods.”

+

“Our people,” said the rusty-looking man, “are whole-souled and hospitable. There is no welcome too warm for them to extend to a newcomer, and the members of our church in particular are especially friendly toward any one who drops in to worship with us. You have a nice stock of goods.”

“So, so,” said the grocer, turning his back and gazing up at a supply of canned California fruits.

“Only last week now I had quite an altercation with the tradesman I deal with for sending me inferior goods. You have some nice hams, I suppose, and such staples as coffee and sugar?”

“Yep,” said the grocer.

“My wife was over to see your wife this morning, and enjoyed her visit very much. What time does your delivery wagon pass up our street?”

-

“Say,” said the grocer. “I bought out an old stock of groceries here, and put in a lot of new ones. I see your name on the old books charged with $87.10 balance on account. Did you want something more to-day?”

+

“Say,” said the grocer. “I bought out an old stock of groceries here, and put in a lot of new ones. I see your name on the old books charged with $87.10 balance on account. Did you want something more today?”

“No, sir,” said the rusty man, drawing himself up and glaring through his glasses. “I merely called in from a sense of Christian duty to extend you a welcome, but I see you are not the man I took you to be. I don’t want any of your groceries. I can see the mites in that cheese from the other side of the street, and my wife says your wife is wearing an underskirt made out of an old tablecloth. Several of our congregation were speaking of your smelling of toddy in church, and snoring during the prayers. My wife will return that cup of lard she borrowed at your house this morning just as quick as my last order comes up from the store where we trade. Good morning, sir.”

The grocer softly whispered, “There Won’t Anybody Play with Me,” and whittled a little lead out of one of his weights, in an absentminded way.

diff --git a/src/epub/text/getting-at-the-facts.xhtml b/src/epub/text/getting-at-the-facts.xhtml index 9648b8c..67e2bb1 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/getting-at-the-facts.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/getting-at-the-facts.xhtml @@ -8,7 +8,7 @@

Getting at the Facts

-

It was late in the afternoon and the day staff was absent. The night editor had just come in, pulled off his coat, vest, collar, and necktie, rolled up his shirt-sleeves and eased down his suspenders, and was getting ready for work.

+

It was late in the afternoon and the day staff was absent. The night editor had just come in, pulled off his coat, vest, collar, and necktie, rolled up his shirtsleeves and eased down his suspenders, and was getting ready for work.

Some one knocked timidly outside the door, and the night editor yelled, “Come in.”

A handsome young lady with entreating blue eyes and a Psyche knot entered with a rolled manuscript in her hand.

The night editor took it silently and unrolled it. It was a poem and he read it half aloud with a convulsive jaw movement that resulted from his organs of speech being partially engaged with about a quarter of a plug of chewing tobacco. The poem ran thus:

@@ -63,7 +63,7 @@

“Sir!” said the young lady indignantly. “There is nothing of the kind intimated in the poem. The lines are imaginary and are intended to express the sorrow of a poet’s friend at his untimely demise.”

Why, miss,” said the night editor, “it plainly refers to midnight oil, and a crash, and when the light blew up the gent was left for dead in the room.”

“You horrid thing,” said the young lady, “give me my manuscript. I will bring it back when the literary editor is in.”

-

“I’m sorry,” said the night editor as he handed her the roll. “We’re short on news to-night, and it would have made a nice little scoop. Don’t happen to know of any accidents in your ward: births, runaways, holdups, or breach of promise suits, do you?”

+

“I’m sorry,” said the night editor as he handed her the roll. “We’re short on news tonight, and it would have made a nice little scoop. Don’t happen to know of any accidents in your ward: births, runaways, holdups, or breach of promise suits, do you?”

But the slamming of the door was the only answer from the fair poetess.

diff --git a/src/epub/text/guessed-everything-else.xhtml b/src/epub/text/guessed-everything-else.xhtml index 159252e..e085e5e 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/guessed-everything-else.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/guessed-everything-else.xhtml @@ -15,7 +15,7 @@

“I don’t want them. We have sm—”

“Smoking in the house? It won’t injure them in the least. Just shake them out in the morning and I guarantee not a vestige of tobacco smoke will remain. Here also I have a very ingenious bell for awakening lazy servants in the morning. You simply touch a button and—”

“I tell you we have sm—”

-

“Have smart servants, have you? Well, that is a blessing. Now, here is a clothes line that is one of the wonders of the age. It needs no pins and can be fastened to anything⁠—fence, side of the house, or tree. It can be raised or lowered in an instant, and for a large washing is the most convenient and labor-saving invention that—”

+

“Have smart servants, have you? Well, that is a blessing. Now, here is a clothes line that is one of the wonders of the age. It needs no pins and can be fastened to anything⁠—fence, side of the house, or tree. It can be raised or lowered in an instant, and for a large washing is the most convenient and laborsaving invention that—”

“I say we have small—”

“Oh, you have a small family. Let’s see, then I have here a—”

“I’m trying to tell you,” said the woman, “that we have smallpox in the family, and—”

diff --git a/src/epub/text/his-dilemma.xhtml b/src/epub/text/his-dilemma.xhtml index 194cc76..0f79efa 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/his-dilemma.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/his-dilemma.xhtml @@ -22,7 +22,7 @@

“Well,” said the clerk, “our hair dye is—”

“Wait a minute, young feller. Now on the other hand I hears rumors of wars this mornin’, and I hears alarmin’ talk about this here Monroe docterin’. Ef I uses hair dye and trains down to thirty-eight or forty years of age, I ketches the widder, but I turns into a peart and chipper youth what is liable to be made to fight in this here great war. Ef I gives up the hair dye, the recrutin’ sargent salutes these white hairs and passes by, but I am takin’ big chances on the widder. She has been to meetin’ twicet with a man what has been divorced, and ties his own cree-vat, and this here Monroe docterin’ is all what keeps me from pulling out seventy-five cents and makin’ a strong play with said dye. What would you do, ef you was me, young feller?”

“I don’t think there will be any war soon,” said the clerk.

-

“Je-rusalem; I’m glad to hear it! Gimme the biggest bottle of blue-black hair dye fur seventyfive cents that you got. I’m goin’ to purpose to that widder before it gets dry, and risk the chances of Monroe takin’ water again on this war business.”

+

“Jerusalem; I’m glad to hear it! Gimme the biggest bottle of blue-black hair dye fur seventyfive cents that you got. I’m goin’ to purpose to that widder before it gets dry, and risk the chances of Monroe takin’ water again on this war business.”

diff --git a/src/epub/text/how-it-started.xhtml b/src/epub/text/how-it-started.xhtml index 7b3e996..f59b0d6 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/how-it-started.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/how-it-started.xhtml @@ -29,7 +29,7 @@
She stood, with blushes red,
- While bright the gas-light shone + While bright the gaslight shone
Upon her lovely head.

@@ -38,7 +38,7 @@

“I don’t see anything wrong with the poem,” said the reporter. “It seems a little crude, but contains nothing to give offense.”

“Well,” said the old resident, “the poem was all right as it was written. The trouble originated in the newspaper office. The morning after it was sent in the society editress got hold of it first. She is an old maid and she didn’t think the second line quite proper, so she ran her pencil through it. Then the advertising manager prowled around through the editor’s mail as usual, and read the poem. Old Brown owed the office $17 back subscription, and the advertising manager struck out the fourth line. He said old Brown shouldn’t get any free advertising in that office.

“Then the editor’s wife happened to come in to see if there was any square, perfumed envelopes among his mail, and she read it. She was at the Brown’s party herself, and when she read the line that proclaimed Miss Judkins ‘The fairest of them all’ she turned up her nose and scratched that out.

-

“Then the editor himself got hold of it. He is heavily interested in our new electric light plant, and his blue pencil jumped on the line ‘While bright the gas-light shone’ in a hurry. Later on one of the printers came in and grabbed a lot of copy, and this poem was among it. You know what printers will do if you give them a chance, so here is the way the poem came out in the paper:

+

“Then the editor himself got hold of it. He is heavily interested in our new electric light plant, and his blue pencil jumped on the line ‘While bright the gaslight shone’ in a hurry. Later on one of the printers came in and grabbed a lot of copy, and this poem was among it. You know what printers will do if you give them a chance, so here is the way the poem came out in the paper:

To Miss Judkins diff --git a/src/epub/text/recognition.xhtml b/src/epub/text/recognition.xhtml index 6c1428e..1a2a180 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/recognition.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/recognition.xhtml @@ -9,8 +9,8 @@

Recognition

The new woman came in with a firm and confident tread. She hung her hat on a nail, stood her cane in the corner, and kissed her husband gayly as he was mixing the biscuit for supper.

-

“Any luck to-day, dearie?” asked the man as his careworn face took on an anxious expression.

-

“The best of luck,” she said with a joyous smile. “The day has come when the world recognizes woman as man’s equal in everything. She is no longer content to occupy a lower plane than his, and is his competitor in all the fields of action. I obtained a position to-day at fifty dollars per week for the entire season.”

+

“Any luck today, dearie?” asked the man as his careworn face took on an anxious expression.

+

“The best of luck,” she said with a joyous smile. “The day has come when the world recognizes woman as man’s equal in everything. She is no longer content to occupy a lower plane than his, and is his competitor in all the fields of action. I obtained a position today at fifty dollars per week for the entire season.”

“What is the position?”

“Female impersonator at the new theater.”

diff --git a/src/epub/text/reconciliation.xhtml b/src/epub/text/reconciliation.xhtml index e48e4f3..6998e23 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/reconciliation.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/reconciliation.xhtml @@ -104,7 +104,7 @@ She - You old cross-patch of a liar from Liarsville, don’t you talk to me that way or I’ll scratch your eyes out. + You old crosspatch of a liar from Liarsville, don’t you talk to me that way or I’ll scratch your eyes out. He diff --git a/src/epub/text/red-conliris-eloquence.xhtml b/src/epub/text/red-conliris-eloquence.xhtml index 3d217c2..ff1c92a 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/red-conliris-eloquence.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/red-conliris-eloquence.xhtml @@ -17,7 +17,7 @@

“It was dark as thunder, and pretty soon we run one of them down. His horse was lame, and we knew it was Mullens by his big white hat and black beard. We didn’t hardly give him time to speak, we was so mad, but in two minutes there was a rope ’round his neck and Mullens was swung up at last. We waited about ten minutes till he was still, and then some fellow strikes a match out of curiosity and screeches out:

“ ‘Gosh a’mighty, boys, we’ve strung up the wrong man!”

“And we had.

-

“We re-opened the fellow’s case and give him a new trial, and acquitted him, but it was too late to do him any good. He was as dead as Davy Crockett.

+

“We reopened the fellow’s case and give him a new trial, and acquitted him, but it was too late to do him any good. He was as dead as Davy Crockett.

“It was Sandy McNeagh, one of the quietest, straightest, and best-respected men in the county, and what was worse, hadn’t been married but about three months.

“ ‘Whatever are we to do?’ says I, and it sure was a case to think about.

“ ‘We ought to be nigh Sandy’s house now,’ said one of the men, who was tryin’ to peer around and kind of locate the scene of our brilliant coop detaw, as they say.

diff --git a/src/epub/text/revenge.xhtml b/src/epub/text/revenge.xhtml index 2b9f578..0bf699e 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/revenge.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/revenge.xhtml @@ -15,7 +15,7 @@

Although we can stand a great deal, this attack has goaded us to what is perhaps a bitter and cruel, but not entirely an unjustifiable revenge. Below will be found an editorial from the last number of the Star-Vindicator:

-

“Spring, with her magic word of music, pathos, and joy, has touched a thousand hills and vales, has set a million throats to warbling; sunshine, song, and flowers bedeck every altar and crown each day more glorious. Imperial spring is here⁠—the brightest, gayest, and best of all God’s seasons. Springtime is like the little child⁠—crowned with its own purity and love not tarnished and seared with the hand of Time. It is like the bright, sparkling miniature rivulet that bursts from the mountain side and goes merrily over the shining pebbles before it hastens into a dark, deep, dangerous river. The sweet cadence of music, the scent of wafted perfumes, the stretch of glorious landscape, radiated and beautified with lovely gems of Oriental hue, catch our attention at every step. The world to-day is a wilderness of flowers, a bower of beauty, and millions of sweet native warblers make its pastures concert halls, where we can go in peace at even-time, after the strife, the toil, the disappointments, and sorrows of our labors here and gather strength, courage, and hope to meet on the morrow life’s renewed duties and responsibilities.

+

“Spring, with her magic word of music, pathos, and joy, has touched a thousand hills and vales, has set a million throats to warbling; sunshine, song, and flowers bedeck every altar and crown each day more glorious. Imperial spring is here⁠—the brightest, gayest, and best of all God’s seasons. Springtime is like the little child⁠—crowned with its own purity and love not tarnished and seared with the hand of Time. It is like the bright, sparkling miniature rivulet that bursts from the mountain side and goes merrily over the shining pebbles before it hastens into a dark, deep, dangerous river. The sweet cadence of music, the scent of wafted perfumes, the stretch of glorious landscape, radiated and beautified with lovely gems of Oriental hue, catch our attention at every step. The world today is a wilderness of flowers, a bower of beauty, and millions of sweet native warblers make its pastures concert halls, where we can go in peace at even-time, after the strife, the toil, the disappointments, and sorrows of our labors here and gather strength, courage, and hope to meet on the morrow life’s renewed duties and responsibilities.

diff --git a/src/epub/text/solemn-thoughts.xhtml b/src/epub/text/solemn-thoughts.xhtml index d1e3226..fcad3cd 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/solemn-thoughts.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/solemn-thoughts.xhtml @@ -8,7 +8,7 @@

Solemn Thoughts

-

The golden crescent of the new moon hung above the market house, and the night was cool, spring-like, and perfect.

+

The golden crescent of the new moon hung above the market house, and the night was cool, springlike, and perfect.

Five or six men were sitting in front of the Hutchins House, and they had gradually shifted their chairs until they were almost in a group.

They were men from different parts of the country, some of them from cities thousands of miles away. They had been rattled in the dice box of chance and thrown in a temporary cluster into the hospitable gates of the Magnolia city.

They smoked and talked, and that feeling of comradeship which seizes men who meet in the world far from their own homes, was strong upon them.

@@ -22,14 +22,14 @@ The twilight melted into dark,’ ”

-

quoted the New York drummer. “Heigho! I wish I was at home to-night.”

+

quoted the New York drummer. “Heigho! I wish I was at home tonight.”

“Same here,” said the little man from St. Louis. “I can just see the kids now tumbling round on the floor and cutting up larks before Laura puts them to bed. There’s one blessing, though, I’ll be home on Thanksgiving.”

-

“I had a letter from home to-day,” said the white-bearded Philadelphian, “and it made me homesick. I would give a foot of that slushy pavement on Spruce Street for all these balmy airs and mocking-bird solos in the South. I’m going to strike a bee line for the Quaker City in time for that fat turkey, I don’t care what my house says.”

+

“I had a letter from home today,” said the white-bearded Philadelphian, “and it made me homesick. I would give a foot of that slushy pavement on Spruce Street for all these balmy airs and mockingbird solos in the South. I’m going to strike a bee line for the Quaker City in time for that fat turkey, I don’t care what my house says.”

“Yust hear dot band playing,” said the fat gentleman. “I can almost dink I vos back in Cincinnati ‘neber die Rhein’ mit dot schplendid little beautiful girl from de hat factory. I dink it is dese lovely nights vot makes us of home, sweet home, gedinken.”

-

“Now you’re shoutin’,” said the Chicago hardware drummer. “I wish I was in French Pete’s restaurant on State Street with a big bottle of beer and some chitterlings and lemon pie. I’m, feelin’ kinder sentimental myself to-night.”

-

“The worst part of it is,” said the man with the gold nose glasses and green necktie, “that our dear ones are separated from us by many long and dreary miles, and we little know what obstacles in the shape of storm and flood and wreck lie in our way. If we could but annihilate time and space for a brief interval there are many of us who would clasp the forms of those we love to our hearts to-night. I, too, am a husband and father.”

-

“That breeze,” said the man from New York, “feels exactly like the ones that used to blow over the old farm in Montgomery County, and that ‘orchard and meadow, and deep tangled wildwood,’ etc., keep bobbing up in my memory to-night.”

-

“How many of us,” said the man with gold glasses, “realize the many pitfalls that Fate digs in our path? What a slight thing may sever the cord that binds us to life! There to-day, to-morrow gone forever from the world!”

+

“Now you’re shoutin’,” said the Chicago hardware drummer. “I wish I was in French Pete’s restaurant on State Street with a big bottle of beer and some chitterlings and lemon pie. I’m, feelin’ kinder sentimental myself tonight.”

+

“The worst part of it is,” said the man with the gold nose glasses and green necktie, “that our dear ones are separated from us by many long and dreary miles, and we little know what obstacles in the shape of storm and flood and wreck lie in our way. If we could but annihilate time and space for a brief interval there are many of us who would clasp the forms of those we love to our hearts tonight. I, too, am a husband and father.”

+

“That breeze,” said the man from New York, “feels exactly like the ones that used to blow over the old farm in Montgomery County, and that ‘orchard and meadow, and deep tangled wildwood,’ etc., keep bobbing up in my memory tonight.”

+

“How many of us,” said the man with gold glasses, “realize the many pitfalls that Fate digs in our path? What a slight thing may sever the cord that binds us to life! There today, tomorrow gone forever from the world!”

“Too true,” said the Philadelphia man, wiping his spectacles.

“And leave those we love behind,” continued the other. “The affections of a lifetime, the love of the strongest hearts, ended in the twinkling of an eye. One loses the clasp of hands that would detain and drifts away into the sad, unknowable, other existence, leaving aching hearts to mourn forever. Life seems all a tragedy.”

“Banged if you ain’t rung the bell first shot,” said the Chicago drummer. “Our affections get busted up something worse’n killing hogs.”

diff --git a/src/epub/text/the-distraction-of-grief.xhtml b/src/epub/text/the-distraction-of-grief.xhtml index 024b328..dcec9ef 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/the-distraction-of-grief.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/the-distraction-of-grief.xhtml @@ -10,7 +10,7 @@

The Distraction of Grief

The other day a Houston man died and left a young and charming widow to mourn his loss. Just before the funeral, the pastor came around to speak what words of comfort he could, and learn her wishes regarding the obsequies. He found her dressed in a becoming mourning costume, sitting with her chin in her hand, gazing with far-off eyes in an unfathomable sea of retrospection.

The pastor approached her gently, and said: “Pardon me for intruding upon your grief, but I wish to know whether you prefer to have a funeral sermon preached, or simply to have the service read.”

-

The heart-broken widow scarcely divined his meaning, so deeply was she plunged in her sorrowful thoughts, but she caught some of his words, and answered brokenly:

+

The heartbroken widow scarcely divined his meaning, so deeply was she plunged in her sorrowful thoughts, but she caught some of his words, and answered brokenly:

“Oh, red, of course. Red harmonizes so well with black.”

diff --git a/src/epub/text/the-good-boy-mostly-in-words-of-one-syllable.xhtml b/src/epub/text/the-good-boy-mostly-in-words-of-one-syllable.xhtml index 132b607..943c6d5 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/the-good-boy-mostly-in-words-of-one-syllable.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/the-good-boy-mostly-in-words-of-one-syllable.xhtml @@ -14,12 +14,12 @@

James was a good boy.

He w’ould not tease his cat or his dog.

He went to school.

-

One day as he went home he saw a la-dy cross the street, and some rude boys tried to guy her.

-

James took the la-dy by the hand and led her to a safe place.

-

“Oh, fie!” he said to the boys. “For shame, to talk so to the nice la-dy. A good, kind boy will be mild and love to help the old.”

+

One day as he went home he saw à lady cross the street, and some rude boys tried to guy her.

+

James took the lady by the hand and led her to a safe place.

+

“Oh, fie!” he said to the boys. “For shame, to talk so to the nice lady. A good, kind boy will be mild and love to help the old.”

At this the boys did rail and laugh.

-

“Oh, boys,” said James, “do not be rude and speak so harsh. At home, I have a dear old grandma, and this kind la-dy may be one, too.”

-

The la-dy took James by the ear and said: “You contemptible little rapscallion. I’ve a good mind to spank you until you can’t navigate.

+

“Oh, boys,” said James, “do not be rude and speak so harsh. At home, I have a dear old grandma, and this kind lady may be one, too.”

+

The lady took James by the ear and said: “You contemptible little rapscallion. I’ve a good mind to spank you until you can’t navigate.

Grandmother, indeed! I’m only twenty-nine my last birthday, and I don’t feel a day over eighteen. Now, you clear out, or I’ll slap you good.”

diff --git a/src/epub/text/the-strangers-appeal.xhtml b/src/epub/text/the-strangers-appeal.xhtml index dcdda8d..34e3f4e 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/the-strangers-appeal.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/the-strangers-appeal.xhtml @@ -11,7 +11,7 @@

He was tall and angular and had a keen gray eye and a solemn face. His dark coat was buttoned high and had something of a clerical cut. His pepper and salt trousers almost cleared the tops of his shoes, but his tall hat was undeniably respectable, and one would have said he was a country preacher out for a holiday. He was driving a light wagon, and he stopped and climbed out when he came up to where five or six men were sitting on the post-office porch in a little country town in Texas.

“My friends,” he said, “you all look like intelligent men, and I feel it my duty to say a few words to you in regard to the terrible and deplorable state of things now existing in this section of the country. I refer to the horrible barbarities recently perpetrated in the midst of some of the most civilized of Texas towns, when human beings created in the image of their Maker were subjected to cruel torture and then inhumanly burned in the public streets. Something must be done to wipe the stigma from the fair name of your state. Do you not agree with me?”

“Are you from Galveston, stranger?” asked one of the men.

-

“No, sir. I am from Massachusetts, the cradle of liberty of the down-trodden negro, and the home of the champions of his cause. These burnings are causing us to weep tears of blood and I am here to see if I can not move your hearts to pity on his behalf.”

+

“No, sir. I am from Massachusetts, the cradle of liberty of the downtrodden negro, and the home of the champions of his cause. These burnings are causing us to weep tears of blood and I am here to see if I can not move your hearts to pity on his behalf.”

“I guess you might as well drive on,” said one of the group. “We are going to look out for ourselves and just so long as negroes keep on committing the crimes they have, just so long will we punish them.”

“And you will not repent of the lives you have taken by the horrible agency of fire?”

“Nary repent.”

diff --git a/src/epub/text/the-telegram.xhtml b/src/epub/text/the-telegram.xhtml index 9e90846..a7b7e4f 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/the-telegram.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/the-telegram.xhtml @@ -50,7 +50,7 @@ Young lady - Indeed I sha’n’t. You ought to see that ring. I’ll give you the thirty cents. + Indeed I shan’t. You ought to see that ring. I’ll give you the thirty cents. Clerk diff --git a/src/epub/text/too-late.xhtml b/src/epub/text/too-late.xhtml index 5d84fb0..8f4d483 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/too-late.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/too-late.xhtml @@ -17,7 +17,7 @@

“Come,” said the general, “we have not a moment to lose. What has been done?”

“There are fifty cavalrymen ready to start, with Bowie Knife Bill, the famous scout, to track them.”

Ten minutes later the general and the lieutenant, with Bowie Knife Bill at their side, set out at a swinging gallop at the head of the cavalry column.

-

Bowie Knife Bill, with the trained instincts of a border sleuth-hound, followed the trail of Spotted Lightning’s horse with unerring swiftness.

+

Bowie Knife Bill, with the trained instincts of a border sleuthhound, followed the trail of Spotted Lightning’s horse with unerring swiftness.

“Pray God we may not be too late,” said the general as he spurred his panting steed⁠—“and Spotted Lightning, too, of all the chiefs! He has always seemed to be our friend.”

“On, on,” cried Lieutenant Baldwin, “there may yet be time.”

Mile after mile the pursuers covered, pausing not for food or water, until nearly sunset.

diff --git a/src/epub/text/why-conductors-are-morose.xhtml b/src/epub/text/why-conductors-are-morose.xhtml index 43af4d6..d44ebf6 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/why-conductors-are-morose.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/why-conductors-are-morose.xhtml @@ -9,9 +9,9 @@

Why Conductors Are Morose

Street car conductors often have their tempers tried by the inconsiderate portion of the public, but they are not allowed to ease their feelings by “talking back.” One of them related yesterday an occurrence on his line a few days ago.

-

A very fashionably dressed lady, accompanied by a little boy, was in the car, which was quite full of people. “Conductor,” she said languidly, “let me know when we arrive at Pease Avenue.”

+

A very fashionably dressed lady, accompanied by a little boy, was in the car, which was quite full of people. “Conductor,” she said languidly, “let me know when we arrive at Peas Avenue.”

When the car arrived at that street the conductor rang the bell and the car stopped.

-

“Pease Avenue, ma’am,” he said, climbing off to assist her from the car.

+

“Peas Avenue, ma’am,” he said, climbing off to assist her from the car.

The lady raised the little boy to his knees and pointed out the window at the name of the street which was on a board, nailed to the corner of a fence.

“Look, Freddy,” she said, “that tall, straight letter with a funny little curl at the top is a ‘P.’ Now don’t forget it again. You can go on, conductor; we get off at Gray Street.”