The Tribe of the Absent-Minded
THE tribe of the ab
flourished for so many
generations that it has now become
difficult for the best of them to do any
thing really original, while the final
story of absent-mindedness will probably
never be told. And yet the feat of
originality in this line is occasionally
shown, as well as cases where the ab
sent-mindedness has really gone to seed.
It was absence of mind that made
the Dutch cooper head himself into his
hogshead, where he would have stayed if
the neighbors had not heard him call
through the bung-hole. But what caused
another mistake was absence of feelings,
an absence common to artificial limbs.
It is a droll story, and happened not long
ago down South.
Anson S. of Shelton Center, a wooden
legged veteran, set to work to make a
frame for the support of his tomato
vines. To keep the posts steady while
nailing the slats he placed his left, or
wooden, leg against them, and drove the
nails home with a vim.
After nailing one end he started to go
to the next post, but found to his surprise
that he could not move. Visions of
paralysis flashed over his mind, but on
examining carefully he found that he had
driven the nail through slat and post
into his wooden leg, and that he was
nailed fast to the tomato frame.
One of the most absent-minded of men
lived and died not long, ago in a town
not far from Concord, New-Hampshire.
He was a worthy minister of the Gospel.
and conducted the greater part of one
long midsummer service with one pair of
heavy spectacles or. his nose and another
canted high up on his massive forehead.
He onco called on a woman parishioner
and invited her with characteristic
politeness to go to ride. She accepted
gladly, and "fixed up," only to find
when the dominie reached the door that
he had made his call on horseback,
and that his chaise was at his home a
half-do/en miles away.
This same fondness tor horseback
riding led him to make another ridicu
lous blunder: when he led his old brindle
cow from the barn one day with the
saddle strapped tightly on her back.
the old horse neighing under the seeming
Tin- horse was often led to a brook
to drink. One morning the loafers on
the piazza of the village store were
dnmfounded to see the parson come out
of the barn with the halter dragging
from his hands folded behind his back,
pass slowly down to the brook, then turn
By George Bancroft Griffith
IS A M-RK 4>B OH 11 101 H
OLD ENGLISH CANDY
An. l I »ant t.i say to the readers of THE Sunday MAGA
zine that it's just the undy for the »holr family, and the
< hildrrn in ;^rti« ul..r I here is nothing "just as h<mkl "at
"j.i-.t like it. Your .Iralcr an supply you If n,.t. »rite
me. an. l *en.i mr h:s name, an.l 1 will talk »ith him.
Trial parkag* arat IW ll*. la •Maps ar 4.1b. Pan.
Hy Tl. ana hr *l.»(l. »m* I aajr IW Mama rkanm
Wept. 67 78 lladaon HU. New V«rk
RED CHIEF MARCH AND TWO-MTEP
COI'LD I BIT KNOW —
Hick «r Law Valee— C. J. Wilson
16 cents each, or the two (or 86 oenta, postpaid .
Wm. A. POND & CO.
148 Kifth Avenue N*»w York
SUNDAY MAGAZINE, for OCTOBER 30. 1904
and look at the horseless halter, and
hasten back to the barn, where thirsty
old Dobbin in this box-stall was pitying
his kind, forgetful, old master.
A Western lawyer has an office in a
large building, and the other afternoon
had occasion to visit the clerk-of-court's
office to look up the records in a case in
which he had been retained As he went
out he pinned a card upon the door:
"Return at four-thirty."
He was not gone so long as he had
expected. In fact, it was only quarter
ast four when he returned. He walked
•p the stairs, his mind full of his case,
and was about entering the door of his
office when his eye caught the notice:
"Return at four-thirty." He pulled out
his watch, saw that it was only four
rifteen, and began pacing up and down
the corridor, glancing about now ;tn<l
then as if expecting some one's arrival,
and every few minutes looking impa
tiently at his watch. Half-past four
came, and still the door remained un
opened. He waited a few minutes
longer, and then, with a look of disgiist,
started down the stairs. Before he
reached the outside door, however, be
came to himself, and went back. He
unlocked his own door, took flown the
card, and went about his business.
Speaking of absent-minded people.
however, a woman can beat the nation
at that. It olten loads them into em
barrassing situation';, out of which they
have to scramble as best they may.
Not long ago one whose mind is fit ten
soaring above this world's humdrum
was visiting at the house of a friend in
Boston who is the happy possessor of
many interesting works of art and a fine
collection of bric-a-brac. Some rare bits
were produced for her admiration, and
as she admired each one she put it
carefully away in the pocket of her
dress, much to the dismay of the hostess,
who wonoered if she could have been
understood to have said that she wished
to give away these treasures. After
talking a little while the visitor departed,
taking with her the valuable articles
That evening, as she changed her street
costume, she discovered, to her horror,
the articles she had admired at her
friend's house a few hours before. Imag
ine with what feelings she sent back the
treasures she had unconsciously taken
with a note of embarrassed apology.
Another woman, one of the most
easeful and level-headed women in Chi
cago, one night last winter went to a
large party with her husband, and both,
for special reasons, were more than
anxious to appear well. The wife was
greatly concerned about her husband,
as he was considered the absent-minded
member of the family, and looked him
over critically and carefully after he
left the coat-room and before they
went down-stairs. She was superbly
dressed. Both went down in high
feather and had passed through the
parlors and spent a delightful halt-hour
By McLundburgh "Wilson
I'm the apple, swaying, bobbing,
That Priscilla tries to bin —
On the line,
With her rosy cheeks hobnobbing.
Now the left, and now the right.
I'm ;i mighty lucky fellow
Looking straight into lu-r l;nr.
Blur her eyes
As the skirs
And Priscilla's hair is yellow,
And she has a wondrous grace.
As I kiss her lips so lightly.
Much I wonder what she'd do
If that man
Tried my plan.
Do you think that she would brightly,
daily try to bite him too?
on parade duty, as it
wore, when the woman
turned pale in what her
husband thought was a fainting fit.
He hurried her from the room, and
was about to turn the house upside
down in search of restoratives, when
she clutched his sleeve and pointed at
her feet. Before leaving home she had
drawn over her shoes a pair of her good
man's socks, and had forgotten to remove
thorn. The thought that she had been
parading before three hundred people
with those socks on was too much for her.
HE CUT THE REGULATIONS
WHEN Klihu Root was United States
District Attorney for New-York he
won i reputation as a quick and industrious
At one time when the number of smuggling
cases was large, the District Attorney had a
special agent of the Treasury Department
aligned to his office for the purpose of assisting
him in obtaining evidence in reference to the
ca*es vvhuh were about M com* to trial
It so happened that an unusually com
petent man was sent to il.i this work, and
Mr. Root became much attached to him. In
the meantime, however, the special igent of
the Treasury wh.> w ,-, located in New-Yrrk
city objected to the assignment of ne of his
men to the District Attorney's office without
his permission or coHsent, and he made a
protest to the Secretary oi the Treasury.
Mr Root Mid a Washington official
who was sent to the District Attorney for that
purpose, "we sh.ill have to withdraw Mr.
Smith, the special agent who is n w w
in your office
"Why." exclaimed the ; t . : , | ntn t- -
Attorney, "this man is invalua! !e to me, and
he is doing his work splendidly'
"But," was the reply, "the regulations will
not permit the assignment of a special agent
for this purpose."
"Well." rejoine.l the keen-witted Distn t
Attorney, "it the regulati. ns interfere w;th
this assignment, it will be n.e e<sary I r us t >
cut out the regui itions."
When Judge Polger, who was then Se. retar\
of the Treasury, learned of th:s he '.. ij
heartily and said " I guess we had better ir ■"■
A bright, clean, family monthly maga
zine, filled from cover to cover with
HIOH CLASS FICTION, James Lane
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If you are not a subscriber, better ■
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