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Newspaper Page Text
DAILY SHORT STORY
A Nation Saved.
"I.m going to take the stump"
declared Mr. Merriwell, in a low,
"What stump?" asked "Mrs.
i "The great stump of American
acivic education," said Mr. Merri
well, becoming oratorical. "The
nation is rotten to the core. The
great common people"
" are happy digging
ditches, raising corn and dodging
automobiles," took up Mrs. Mer
riwell. You d better let them
, Mr. Merriwell was set in his
purpose. The campaign was in
progress. Mr. Merriwell's ap
pointment was for the densely
populated eleventh ward. He
found awaiting him probably a
thousand Lithuanians, ' Czechs,
Hungarians, Slayonians and
Finns. As soon as he mounted
the goods-box from which he was
to declaim, other hundreds of
Greeks, Bohemians, Syrians, Ar
menians and Turks came running
up. Mr. Merriwell bowed in his
most pleasing manner.
"Pipe' de swell guy!" cried a
shrill voice in 'front of him.
Mr.' Merriwell smiled benevo
lently and waved his right hand
in an encompassing gesture.
"Friends, fellow citizens," he be
gan, in a voice into which he en
deavored to put feeling, "I am for
the man in harness, the man with
the hoe, the man."
There was a roar from the as
semblage. "We don't care a ting
about yer men with hoes and
bridles," cried an auditor. "Are
youse for Gas House McConnell?
Are youse fer Slippery Heel Di
neen? What yer tink of de wharf
Mr. Merriwell did not cease to
smile benevolently. He raised his
hand for silence. It was well that
he did. In his early days Mr.
Merriwell had been a splendid
sand-lot base ball artist. The
outstretched hand was just in
time to seize and neatly hold a
"Good ketch! Out at first!"
shouted the crowd.
Mr. Merriwell, in an effort to
be funny and carry the crowd, bit
into the turnip. Days had passed
since it had been a good turnip.
He frowned and choked and spat
all over the swarthy Sicilian di
rectly beneath him.
"Ah, looka outa! Spitta lika
da spreenkler !" sputtered the out
Mr. Merriwell, still game,
raised both hands and began
anew. "The time has come"
he shouted vigorously, when he
was interrupted by a strolling
street piano performer. "When
all good citizens should pause to
think" shouted Mr. Merriwell
at the top o'f his thin, treble voice.
tee, ooh !" ' chimed the noisy,
gaudy piano. The crowd clapped
hands in glee. A hundred young
Americans in the making danced
and shouted about the street
piano. Someone kicked the box
on which Mr. Merriwell stood
wildly gesticulating. Into the
crowd he sprawled. By the time