blished, Jeffres Hall
would be secured and nightly dividends would be paid.

Charley Wagner, true to the traditions of history handed down from the
days of Babylon, namely, that musicians are the first to stir discord,
laid down his fiddle and bow and declared: "No more music until we get
our money." It then developed that nothing had been paid in the way of
salaries or other expenses since Harrison had assumed the management.

At this juncture Harrison became insolvent. The landlord locked up the
hall with all the belongings of the troupe nor would he release the
goods until the rent was paid in full. Harrison was appealed to. He
sneered at the impecunious minstrels and taunted them by saying: "Now go
get your stuff out. If you all hadn't been so peart I'd seen you
through."

Each minstrel was compelled to pay his proportionate share of the amount
due for rent and lights. His private property was then delivered to him
by the sporting shoemaker.

When he had collected the rent due him he sent for Harrison, escorted
him into the deserted hall and demanded that he (Harrison) have the
partition replaced in its original location. When Harrison angrily
refused, the shoemaker proceeded to give him a drubbing.

Harrison did not collect anything that week from those to whom he gave
favorable mention in the paper as two black eyes compelled him to keep
close to the office.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

And I would learn to better show
My gratitude for favors had,
To see more of the good below
And less of what I think is bad.
To live not always in the day
To come, and count the joys to be,
But to remember, as I stray,
The past and what is brought to me.

Lured by that feeling which impels the criminal to visit the scene of
his crime, Alfred began a pilgrimage to the little red school-house.
Walking along the old pike the sound of a horse's hoofs beating a tattoo
on the road reached his ears. He recognized in the rider, Joe Thornton.

The white pacing mare which Thornton bestrode had one of those peculiar
high-lifting gaits, that, from the sound of the hoofs on the roadbed,
caused one to imagine that she was going at a very rapid gait, while in
fact she was not doing much more than pounding the road. Uncle Joe said
of her: "She'd pace all day in the shade of a tree."

When opposite Alfred, Mr. Thornton slowed up and made numerous inquiries
as to the minstrel show, expressing regret