time you want my views about pisciculture you'll have to send for me."

Then the professor aimed again at the spittoon, missed it, rubbed the
ragged crown of his forlorn hat with his shining elbow, buttoned up
his coat over a shirt-bosom which last saw the washerwoman during the
presidency of General Harrison, and sauntered out and down stairs. The
impression that he left was that he would be more available to the
Fish Commission as bait than in any other capacity.

Upon another occasion a more forlorn and dismal vagabond, a cripple,
too, sauntered into Brown's grocery-store, where a crowd was sitting
around the stove discussing politics. Taking position upon a nail-keg,
he remarked,

"Mr. Brown, you don't want to buy a first-rate wooden leg, do you?
I've got one that I've been wearing for two or three years, and I want
to sell it. I'm hard up for money; and although I'm attached to that
leg, I'm willing to part with it so's I kin get the necessaries of
life. Legs are all well enough; they are handy to have around the
house, and all that; but a man must attend to his stomach if he has
to walk about on the small of his back. Now, I'm going to make you an
offer. That leg is Fairchild's patent; steel springs, India-rubber
joints, elastic toes and everything, and it's in better order now than
it was when I bought it. It'd be a comfort to any man. It's the most
luxurious leg I ever came across. If bliss ever kin be reached by a
man this side of the tomb, it belongs to the person that gets that leg
on and feels the consciousness creeping over his soul that it is his.
Consequently, I say that when I offer it to you I'm doing a personal
favor; and I think I see you jump at the chance and want to clinch the
bargain before I mention--you'll hardly believe it, I know--that I'll