does bound hand and foot and guarded by a whole regiment of U. S.
troops, specially deputized for the occasion."

"YOU ARE INVITED TO BE PRESENT"

Anderson Crow sat on the porch of the post-office, ruminating over the
epidemic that had assailed Tinkletown with singular virulence, and, in a
sense, enthusiasm. Not that there was anything sinister or loathsome
about the plague. Far from it, he reflected, because it had broken out
so soon after his bitter comments on the prolonged absence of the
slightest symptom, or indication that a case was even remotely probable.
And here he was, holding in his hand four fresh and unmistakable signs
that the contagion was spreading. In short, he had just received and
opened four envelopes addressed to Mr. and Mrs. A. Crow, and each
contained an invitation to a wedding.

Alf Reesling, commonly known as the town drunkard, sat on the top step,
whittling.

"No law against gittin' married, is there, constable?" he inquired.

"I don't know much about this new eugenric law," mused Mr. Crow,
gingerly pulling at his whiskers. "So fer as I know, it ain't been
violated up here."

"What's the harm, anyway? You was sayin' yourself only the other day
that it's a crime the way the young fellers in this town _never_ git
married. Just set around the parlour stoves all winter holdin' hands,
and on the front steps all summer----"

"Like as not the gosh-derned cowards heard what I said and got up spunk
enough to tackle matrimony," interrupted the venerable town marshal.
"June seems to be a good month fer weddin's everywhere else in the world
except right here in Tinkletown. The last one we had was in December,
and that was two years ago. Annie Bliss and Joe Hodges. Now we're goin'
to have 'em so thick and fast there won't be an unmarried man in the
place, first thing you know. Up to date, me and Mrs. Crow have had
seventeen printed invitations, and I don't know how many by word o'
mouth. Fellers that never even done any courtin', so fer as I know, are
gittin' married to girls that ain't had a beau since the Methodist
revival in nineteen-ten. They all got religion then, male and female,
and there's nothin' like religion to make people think they ought to
have somebody to share their repentance with."

"George Hoover's been goin' with Bessie Slayback ever sence McKinley
beat Bryan in 'ninety-six. Swore he'd never git married till we had
another democratic president. We've had one fer more'n