ered Snyder's nose, which was a big one at any time, swollen and
blistered by the sun, until it looked like a dead-ripe tomato.

"Why, Snyder, what's the matter with your nose?" said the caller.

"I peen out fishing mit der poys," replied Snyder, laying his finger
tenderly against his proboscis; "the sun it pese hot like ash never
vas, und I purns my nose. Nice nose, don't it?" And Snyder viewed it
with a look of comical sadness in the little mirror back of his bar.
It entered at once into the head of the mischievous fellow in front of
the bar to play a joke upon Snyder; so he went out and collected half
a dozen of his comrades, with whom he arranged that they should drop
in at the saloon one after another, and ask Snyder, "What's the matter
with that nose?" to see how long he would stand it. The man who put
up the job went in first with a companion, and seating themselves at
a table called for beer. Snyder brought it to them, and the new-comer
exclaimed as he saw him, "Snyder, what's the matter with your nose?"

"I yust dell your friend here I peen out fishin' mit der poys, unt de
sun he purnt 'em--zwi lager--den cents--all right."

Another boy rushes in. "Halloo, boys, you're ahead of me this time;
s'pose I'm in, though. Here, Snyder, bring me a glass of lager and
a pret"--(appears to catch a sudden glimpse of Snyder's nose, looks
wonderingly a moment and then bursts out laughing)--"ha! ha! ha! Why,
Snyder--ha!--ha!--what's the matter with that nose?"

Snyder, of course, can't see any fun in having a burnt nose or having
it laughed at; and he says, in a tone sternly emphatic:

"I peen out fishin' mit der poys, unt de sun it yust ash hot ash
blazes, unt I purnt my nose; dat ish all right."

Another tormentor comes in, and insists on "setting 'em up" for the
whole house. "Snyder," says he, "fill up the boys' glasses, and take
a drink yourse----ho! ho! ho! ho! ha! ha! ha! Snyder, wha--ha!
ha!--what's the matter with that nose?"

Snyder's brow darkens with wrath by this time, and his voice grows
deeper and sterner:

"I peen out fishin' mit der poys on the Leedle Miami. De sun pese hot
like ash--vel, I burn my pugle. Now that is more vot I don't got to
say. Vot gind o' peseness? Dat ish all right; I purn my _own_ nose,
don't it?"

"Burn your nose--burn all the hair off your head for what I care; you
needn't get mad about it."

It was evident that Snyder wouldn't stand more than one tweak at that
nose; for he w