Paris, I saw on the street a man who played the trombone
by means of a bullet-hole in his trachea, but I do not think it
elevated me and spurred me on to nobler endeavor and made a better man
of me, as did this simple-hearted young gentleman who made a living by
eating publicly through a tin horn, and who actually earned his bread by
eating it. I hope that the medical fraternity will make his case a study
and try to do better next time. That is the only moral I can think of in
connection with this story.

ADVICE TO A SON

XXVII

MY DEAR SON: I just came here to New York on business, and thought I
would write to you a few lines, as I have a little time that is not
taken up. I came here on a train from Chicago the other day. Before I
started, I got a lower berth in a sleeping car, but when I went to put
my sachel in it, before I left Chicago, there were two women and a
little girl there, and so I told the porter I would wait until they
moved before I put my baggage in the section, for of course I thought
they were just sitting there for a minute to rest.

Hours rolled by and they did not move. I kept on sitting in the
smoking-room, but they stayed. By and by the porter came and asked me if
I had "lower four." I said yes--I paid for it, but I couldn't really say
I had it in my possession. He then said that two ladies and a little
girl had "upper four," and asked if I would mind swapping with them. I
said that I would do so, for I didn't see how a whole family circle
could climb up into the upper berth and remain there, and I would rather
give them the lower one than spend the night picking up different
members of the family and replacing them in the home nest after they had
fallen out.

I had a bad cold, and though I knew that sleeping in the upper berth
would add to it, I did not murmur. But little did I realize that they
would hold the whole thing all of two days, and fill it full of broken
crackers and banana peels, and leave me to ride backward in the
smoking-room from Chicago to New York, after I had paid five dollars for
a seat and lower berth.

Woman is a poor, frail vessel, Henry, but she manages to arrive at her
destination all right. She buys an upper berth and then swaps it with an
old man for his lower berth, giving to boot a half-smothered sob and two
scalding tears. Then she says "Thank you," if she feels like it at the
end of the road, though these women did not. I have pneuemonia in its
earl