The Fat Contributor At The Exposition

mis is Ule way ít happened. I was standing in tho departnient devoted to uiachinery. A forlorn individual, whose nountenance wore an expression of bewilderment that was quite touching appioached me and said in an appealing tone, " Be you a guide ?" I told him that I w.'isn't a regularly ordained guide, but I was willing to show him around if he so desired. His face brightened up at once. He said he had been to the Exposition every day since it opened, but oouldn't ïnake anything out of it- hadii't any one to point things out to him. He was thivstiug for information, and thought if I was a guide he would pay me to take him around. I assured him that I stood ready to give him any information that I possessed. " Now this," said I, plunging at oiice in the midst of things. " is a stationary saw-mill." " What is it f ur p" said he, making a note in a well-wom memorandum book. ' T saw up stationery," I replied ; formerly they sawed it up by hand, but since so much stationery was required to keep our members of Congress supplied, steam had to be substituted. It runs you peroeive, by steam." The man muttered something to the effect that he would like to see it run by him, and made another note. " This I coutinued, gaiuing fresh interest in machiuery inyself iu my efforts to inform a benighted mind, " is a reversible steam engine for hoistinernurDOses " " What do they waut to hoist ' purposes' tbr?'' he inquired, vaguely. "What has purposes been doingV" I had a good inind to hoist him, bnt I restrained myself. " This is an automatic boiler-feeder. It is to bnil 'er feed before it is admiuistered. Matic does it." " So he auto," put in my simple friend. I looked at hirn closely, but he was busy with his niemorandum-book "Here, iny inquiring friend," said I, " is sotnething that will interest you greatly ; it is a portable farm-engine. Now if you are a farmer " " Yes, I own a farm, but it is not a portable farm, so that engine wouldn't do me any good. Show me something else. " Well, we have everything in the inachinery line, and can suit all tastes. Here is a traction road engine, although it hasn't been rode yet." Stranger said if it should the track bhun he wouldn't wish to ride it himself. He had a far away look, and didn't appear to know exactly what he was talking about. "To the right of you," I eontinued, resolved that the man should know something before I got through with him, " is a water pressure engine," and the man with the note-book asked, with pencil in hand, w'at'er pressure was. Oh, but he had such lamb-like eyes when he propounded the question. I couldn't think he tneant anything. We moved along. " What is that '{" said he stopping in front of a queer-looking and somewhut complicated piece of machinery. j. Luiu uiiu n was a Dung macnine, He said he had one of those machines which he thought was ahead of that, and doubling up his fiat he offered to bung me in the eye with it, just to show how it worked, but èye declined. I began to fear the man was out of his head, and regretted that I had undertaken to guide him. But I resolved to see him through. I then called his attention to a " blind writing machine," and he wanted to know if it was born blind. He thought it ought to go with the " lead pipe machine," go they could lead each other. He was the queerest man I ever met. I showed him a machine for general wood-work, and he remarked that he never saw a general who would work if he could help it. He was getting altogether too smart for me, and I asked him if he hadn't better try a little gin. " What kind of gin ?" said ho. " Cotton gin," said I. "Good enough," said he, "but I saw some rum that is better.'" " What kind of rum r " Snared rum ?" There was a " riding cultivator " alongside of a " sulky hay-rake," and this gave me an opportunity to explain that the hay-rake was sulky because the cultivator was riding. My mysterieus friend remarked that there was a power of conshellation in those " Powor Corn Shellers," although a soothing influence pervade'd the washer and wringer. He knew a man, he said, who bought one for his wife. He deolared if it didn't wash 'er he would wring 'er neck off.