Joe and Aunt Melinda, who live eight
miles back from East Aurora, at Wales Hollow. They had been married
for forty-seven years, and had never taken a wedding-journey. They
decided to go to Buffalo and spend two days at a hotel regardless of
expense.

Much had been told them about the Confidence Men who hang around the
railroad-station, and they were prepared.

They arrived at East Aurora, where they were to take the train, an
hour ahead of time. The Jerkwater came in and they were duly seated,
when all at once Uncle Joe rushed for the door, jumped off and made
for the waiting-room looking for his carpetbag. It was on the train
all right, but he just forgot, and feeling sure he had left it in the
station made the grand skirmish as aforesaid.

The result was that the train went off and left your Uncle Joseph.

Aunt Melinda was much exercised, but the train-hands pacified her by
assurances that her husband would follow on the next train, and she
should simply wait for him in the depot at Buffalo.

Now the Flyer was right behind the Jerkwater, and Uncle Joe took the
Flyer and got to Buffalo first. When the Jerkwater came in, Uncle Joe
was on the platform waiting for Aunt Melinda.

As she disembarked he approached her.

She shied and passed on.

He persisted in his attentions.

Then it was that she shook her umbrella at him and bade him hike. The
eternally feminine in her nature prompted self-preservation. She
banked on her reason--woman's reason--not her intuition. She had started
first--her husband could only come on a later train.

"Go 'way and leave me alone," she shouted in shrill falsetto. "You
have got yourself up to look like my Joe--and that idiotic grin on your
homely face is just like my Joe, but no city sharper can fool me, and
if you don't go right along I'll call for the perlice!"

She called for the police, and Uncle Joe had to show a strawberry-mark
to prove his identity, before he received recognition.

-------------------------------------

To be your brother's keeper is beautiful if you do
not cease to be his friend.

BILLY AND THE BOOK

One day last Winter in New York I attended a police court on a side
street, just off lower Broadway. I was waiting to see my old friend
Rosenfeld in the Equitable Life Building, but as his office didn't
open up until nine o'clock, I put in my time at the police court.

There was the usual as