Pg 11

THE PHOTOSPHERE. 11
have no effect. He continues to snore, snort, heave and talk in a
manner that is appalling. Then I say with Juliet:
"Chain me with roaring bears,
Or shut me nightly in a charnel house,
O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones,
With reeky shanks, and yellow, chapless skulls;
Or bid me go into a new-made grave,
And hide me with a dead man in his shroud;
Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble;
And I will do it without fear or doubt,"
Rather than endure this another night.
In the morning Chum wonders what ails his ribs, and what makes
me look so sleepy and worn.
A court that would not grant a divorce to a wife who claims it on
the plea that her husband snoes, ought to be banished from the land.
Chum and I have settled accounts. I like him awake; but I would
rather sleep, four in a bed, with the Three Furies than with him.
MORROW is a town of some importance, a few miles out of Cincin-
ati. A new brakeman on the road who didn't know the names of
the stations, was approached by a stranger the other day while stand-
ing by his tran at the dept, who inquired: "Does this train go to
morrow to-day?"
"No," said the brakeman, who thought the stranger was making
game f him, "it goes to-day yesterday week after next."
"You don't understand me," persisted the stranger. "I want to
go to morrow."
"Well, why don't you wait until to-morrow, then, and not come
bothering round her to-day? You can go to morrow or any other
day you please."
"Won't you answer a civil question civilly? Will this train go to-
day to morrow?"
"Not exactly. It will go to-day and come back to-morrow.
As the gentleman who wanted to go to morrow was about leaving in
disgust, another employee, who know the station alluded to, come
along and gave him the required information.