The Great Majority

"No, it isn't the trampa I complain of," said a WayneCounty farmer, as he oalled for ginger ale yesterday. "I caD drive a tramp off by simply bringing out my shot-gun, but with this other class U's different." "What class?" "Why, these busted theatrical people who are hoofing it back to Detroit. They come along at all hours of the day and night, and in all sorts of shapes. When a chap turas into your gate and announces that he is Damon, and that Pytnias is in a fence-corner half a mile back, too far gone to foot it another rod, and he backs this up by quoting Shakspeare and giving you the route of his company for four weeks, why, you' ve got to do something." 'Of course." "Romeo carne along the other nilit and roused me up, and I went to ii mi Juliet on the grass under a pear tree, resting after a walk of twenty-two miles. They had to have something to stay their stomachs and put new Ufe into 'em, and I thought they'd eat me out of house and homo. I'd had leailing men, loading ladies, villians, lovers, chambermaids and property men walk in on me singly and by droves, and I wish the season was over. Curus how they all teil the same story." "What is it?" "Why, they had the bossplay and the keenest manager. Everything was calculated right down to a cent, company was the best on the road, and therc couldn't bo no such thing as a failure, But there was. The treasurer skipped with the funds - woather too hot - too many roller rinks - allus somogood reason for busting up. Poor critters! Whenever I am woke up at niglit by a voice calling out: 'Me noble lord, a stranger begs a glass of butterrailk of thee, I get into my olothes and go down, feeRng as if all the cold meat in the house likewise beloneed to him." -