sitting in his rickshaw and contemplating the unbeginning endless sea, remarked, "Do you sit here every evening, little man?" by replying:—
"Yeth thir—on principle."
•••••
"Now this is before we're married," said the President to the Vice, "and you've got to tell me wonderful fairy tales, and stories about what you've done, so as to make me fall in love with you. Venus can sit up here and be the Dog of Venice—or is it the Dodge? Anyhow, we'll call him the Dog as he is one. He is my father, you know, and you are my suitor."
"Do I have to shoot you, then?" inquired the Vice.
"I didn't say ‘shooter!’ was the reply. "I said suitor. . . . If you don't suit me, I say 'Hop it,' and you bung off."
"I'm Oh-tell-oh, aren't I?" asked the Vice. "Is it because I have to tell these tales?"
"’Spec so. You have to tell 'moving tales by flood and field,' I think Buster said. . . . Better begin with one about the Flood. And let it be
