A Pleasant Little Story

Washington Cor. oí the Pittabnrg Leader. I do not care to say that Chandler drinka to excusa ; he might arrest mo for criminal libel, but I think I inay vonture' with inipunity tho statement that he is not a strictly temperance man, and that after dinner he inclines to become excessively garrulous. A friend reporta me a sample of Chandler's style as follows : Chandler loves to boast of his strength. Upon this particular occasion he raised up his arm over the table. " See my muscle," said he. "I can lick un y man of my size any where, if I am an oíd man ; that is because I am scienced in the business. But I won't lick a man unlegs he is a gentleman. Now when a man tells damlize about me, my way is to go and liuk him if he is a gentleman. Now look at Don Pott (Piatt) ; he tells more Hze about me, and I would link him, bui Don Pott is n o gen tletnan. George To wnsend I was going to lick once for telling a damlie about nie, and I hunted for him over a week, but beforn I found him, I learned that he waB no gentleman, and so his hide was saved." Chandler's great hobby is his skill as a pugilist. Eoscoe Conklin is also a great boxer. He has a private gymnasium in his residence at Washington, where after dinner he invites such of his friends as are gymnastically inclined for a friendly Httle bout with the gloves. Conklin is a very good amateur boxer, and as he is a very large, powerful man, he generally has it all his own way with the guests who are bold enough to put the gloves on with him. For some time it was an open dispute between Conkling and Chandler, which was the better boxer of the two. Chandler would, after every dinner party of which he was a member, calmly assert that he could lick any man of his weight in the United States. One day last winter Chandler dined with Conkling, and the latter inveigled the great war Senator into the private gymnasium. Tbe gloves were donned and the two doughty ohampions began to make graceful senatorial passes toward one another, according to the most approved rules of the P. R. The bout, however, was of rery short duration. Chandler suddenly reoeived a blow between the eyes, whioh cansed the huge senatorial fortn to go over backward ; his trusty legs failed him and then he sat down so hard that tears came out of his eyes. It took four men to get the war senator upon his legs, but he threw up the spong e at once, without any further effort to punish Conkling. The only remark he was heard to mako was, " Damstrange," and " I'U fis him yet." HOW HE FIXED HIM. Conkling and Chandler were much together in a social way, and xt was not long after the above occurrence when Chandler received another invitation to come up to his house and spread his legs under Conkling's social board. Chandler sent back word that he regretted very much his inability to be present, but he had at his house a guest, a valued constituent from Michigan, and could not leave him. Conkling sent back word, " Brine your friend alone." With thia form of invitation, Chandler consented to come up. He brought hiB friend with him, and introduced him as Mr. Howard, of Detroit, Michigan. Howard was a sad-eyed man of diffident manners, who contented himself with paying very close attention to the themes of the bill of f are, rather than join in the general conversation at the dinner table. Conkling was in great glee during the dinner. He told over and over again the story of Chandler's discomiiture as a boxer, and never seemed to tire of asking him what he thought about his ability to lick any man in the United States. vyiiaLKutir Luuü au luetse remarKS in an absent-minded way, as if, suddenly, he had become lifted above any such petty ambition of considering himself a fine athlete. After dinner, Conkling led his guests into the gymnasium for a general smoke and chat. " Come," said he, pleasantly, to Chandler, " don't you want another bout with the gloves t"' and then Conkling laughed again in his most cbeerful, turkey-gobbler Btyle, as he put on a pair of gloves. " No, I don't want to box," said Chandler ; " but, perhaps, my friend here would consent to amuse you." Turning to Mr. Howard, Chandler remarked, " You box, do you not ?" Mr. Howard still looked sad-eyei and absent-minded. He did once know something about it, but it was such a long while ago. " Come, come," said Conkling, " let us have a friendly bout ; I won't hurt you." Evidently the great New York senator was pining to knock gome one down. The sad-eyed Mr. Howard, evidently flattered at the prospect of being knocked down by so distinguished a man began to slowly put on a pair of gloves. As he was drawing on the gloves Chandler was observed to walk down a little to the back ground. A contentad look was upon his face, and every now and then he would raise his huge right foot up under his swaying voluminous coat-tail, and give hiinself a oongratulatory kick, expreaaive of rapture. The sad-eyed man now came forward, and the round began. Conkling waa for proceeding at once to knock his opponent down, and would have done so liad he not found great difficulty in getting anywhere near the sad-eyed man. The afifair culminated by the sad-eyed man's suddenly rushing forward and landing a thunderbolt of a fist between Conkling's eyea. The senator went over like a great tree, and rolled into the córner of the room, where he lay for a moment stunned by the concussion. He wag heard to say afterward that he thought a house had fallen, on him. Conkling had enough of boxing for once. Chandler made several pleasant little remarks about the skill of his friend Conkling, which were not received in the moat cheerful way. Judge of Conkling's feelings the next day when he heard that Chandler had played a joke upon him by giving Mr. Howard $ 100 to come up and bounoe Conkling. The Mr. Howard, of Detroit Michigan, was none other than the notorious pugilist, Jem Mace.