olitics when I squeezed into the
smoker on this particular occasion, and I judge they both had lower
berths, otherwise their minds would have been busy with dark and
personal fears of the future.

"Well," exclaimed the gabby one from Kansas City, "what _is_ politics?
Well, what is it?"

"Politics," replied Wise Willie from Providence, "politics is where we
get it--sometimes in the bank, sometimes in the neck!"

Everybody present peeled the cover off a loud laugh and the smokeless
hog at the window stole four inches extra space so that he could shake
more when he giggled.

"Well," resumed the inquisitive person from Kansas City, "what is a
politician? Do you know? Eh, well, what is a politician?"

"A politician," replied the fat man from Providence, "a politician is
the reason we have so much politics."

Much applause left the hands of those present, and the smokeless hog
turned sideways so that he could make the others more uncomfortable.

"Perhaps," insinuated gabby Jim from Kansas City, "perhaps you know
what a statesman is, eh?"

"A statesman is a politician in good luck," was the come-back from our
fat friend from Providence, and in the enthusiasm which followed the
smokeless hog found out there was no buffet car on the train, so he
offered to buy the drinks.

"Don't you believe that all men are born equal?" inquired the Kansas
Cityite.

"Yes, but some of them have pull enough to get over it," responded the
Providence philosopher, whereupon the smokeless hog by the window took
out a flask and began to dampen his conscience.

Just then the towel rack fell with a crash, and after I picked up the
comb and the brush and myself I decided to retire to my bracket on the
wall and try to sleep.

When I left the smoker the smokeless hog was occupying two and a half
seats and was now busy breathing in some second-hand cigarette smoke
which nobody seemed to care for.

"How do I reach my Alpine bungalow?" I said to the porter, whereupon he
laughed teethfully and hit me on the shins with a step-ladder.

The spectacular gent who occupied the star chamber beneath my garret
was sleeping as noisily as possible, and when I started up the
step-ladder he began to render Mendelssohn's obligato for the trombone
in the key of G.

Above the roar of the train from away off in lower No. 2 faintly I
could hear an answering bugle call.

I climbed up prepared for the worst and in the twinkling of an eye the
porter removed