Knocking the Neighbors | Page 6

them was transferred to the Detroit Branch.
They did not meet again until ten years later.
One day the Benedict had little Marjorie and the Baby out at the Public Zoo, so they could hear the Sea Lions bark, when Number Two came along in a Sight-Seeing Automobile with other Delegates to the National Conclave of the Knights of Neurasthenia.
It was a Happy Meeting between the two Old Friends.
Number One reported that his Little Girl could recite long Poems by Heart and was about to take Music Lessons. He was living in a Flat, but was about to move.
Number Two said he was Finer than Silk except that Hotel Cooking had got to him at last and he had to stop in and see an Osteopath every Morning.
"You are still Unmarried?" asked Number One.
"Yes," was the Reply. "I am still $2,230 Shy of what a Guy needs before tackling such a risky Game. How are you making it?"
"I am Broke, thank you," replied Number One.
With the utmost Good Feeling re-established between them, they took Marjorie and the Baby over to see the Sacred Cow and the other Dumb Animals.
MORAL: Opportunity knocks once at Every Man's Door and then keeps on Knocking.
THE WONDERFUL MEAL OF VITTLES
Once upon a Time a Rugged Character from the Middle West was in New York City fixing up a Deal.
Although he wore overlapping Cuffs and a ready-made Tie, he had a Rating, so a certain Promoter with an Office in Broad Street found it advisable to make a Fuss over him.
The Promoter invited the prospective Mark to Luncheon and arranged to have the same served in a snug Corner entirely screened by Oleanders and Palms.
The Chef received private Instructions to throw himself, so he personally supervised a dainty Menu.
When the Visitor entered the far-famed Establishment and found himself entirely protected from the Vulgar Gaze he knew that at last he was in the Headquarters for sure-enough Food.
"What is it?" he asked, gazing into the liquid Amber of the First Course.
"Turtle Soup," replied the Host.
"We shoot the Blame Things just for Practice, out our Way," said the Guest, "but if I went home and told my Wife I'd been eatin' Turtle she wouldn't live with me."
So the Alsatian Nobleman hurried it away and substituted a Tid-Bit with Cray-Fish as the principal Ornament in the Ensemble.
"It's a Craw-Dabber!" exclaimed the horrified Man from the Plains. "I see Ten Million of them little Cusses every Spring, but I wouldn't touch one with a Ten-Foot Pole."
To relieve the embarrassing Situation, the Host gave a Sign and the Menials came running with the Third Course, a tempting array of Frog Saddles.
"A Frog is a Reptile," said the Hoosier, backing away from the Table. "I've heard they were Et, but I never believed it. I can go out any Morning and gather a Car-Load."
The next Serving was Breast of Guinea Hen with Mushrooms under Glass on the Side.
"On my Farm I've got a lot of these Things," said the Guest, poking at the Guinea Hen timidly with his Fork. "We use them as Alarm Clocks, but I'd just as soon eat a Turkey Buzzard."
"How about the Mushrooms?"
"Eight People in our Township were poisoned this Summer from foolin' with that Truck. My pasture's speckled with 'em, but we never pick 'em. Most of them are Toadstools. I tried a Real One once at a K. P. Banquet. It tasted a good deal like a Rubber Glove."
The only remaining Item before Dessert was a tempting Salad of Water Cress.
The Guest identified it as something that grew in the Crick below the Spring and was commonly classified as Grass.
"Perhaps you had better order for Yourself," said the Host, as the lowly Water Cress followed the others into the Discard.
The Guest motioned the Waiter to come close and said: "I want a nice Oyster Stew and some Sparkling Burgundy."
MORAL: A Delicacy is something not raised in the same County.
THE GALLOPING PILGRIM
A certain affluent Bachelor happened to be the only Grandson of a rugged Early Settler who wore a Coon-Skip Cap and drank Corn Juice out of a Jug. Away back in the Days when every Poor Man had Bacon in the Smoke House, this Pioneer had been soaked in a Trade and found himself loaded up with a Swamp Subdivision in the Edge of Town.
Fifty years later the City had spread two miles beyond the Swamp and Grandson was submerged beneath so much Unearned Increment that he began to speak with what sounded to him like an English Accent and his Shirts were ordered from Paris.
On the 1st of every Month the Agents would crawl into the Presence of the Grandson of the mighty Muskrat Hunter and dump before him a Wagon- load of Paper Money which had been snatched away from the struggling Shop-Keepers, who, in turn,