least, Victoria could have lost it.” Here I mused no more, 
pocketed the hairpin, and departed for my room, then, upoo 
my arrival therein, I enclosed the wonderful hairpin in the 
box that you know of. , 
Almost everybody has found a handkerchief, but the one 
I am going to tell you about has not been found by, me, 
but given to me. She who gave it to me was Victoria; I 
became possessed of it in this manner: She and I were 
sitting on a sofa, being very close to each other, whereupon, 
playing with the handkerchief by throwing it up and down, 
then passing it in front of my face for me to smell the 
perfume, I suddenly took it from her. Then she tried to 
take it from me, which caused us to get closer to each other, 
having our little handkerchief battle, until, I being the strong- 
est, I won the battle, and pocketed the little piece of cloth. 
So, when I arrived home, I also enclosed this handkerchief, 
with perfume and the letter V, in forementioned box. 
One winter evening, it not being very co d, I went to 
a bookstore, where, after looking over many books, I foun 
“Old Creole Days” by G. W. Cable, which I bought, the 
price being one dollar and a quarter. Upon giving this 
volume a perusal, I found a piece of paper between its leaves. 
After I unfolded said paper, upon which was some writing, 
I found a piece of hair. The writing read as follows: 
have read this book; I find it to be very interesting. ore- 
over, I like “Pite Poulette” best. Why? eh, I am an 
Octoroon myself. This being the case, I herein enclose @ 
piece of Octoroon’s hair for somebody!” 
Now, dear reader, let me tell you the cause of my death. 
After coming in contact with the girls I have told you of, 
after I have studied every department of nature I could, 
received many pleasures in various ways, solitude, peo le, 
things. all, became a boredom, whereupon, seeing that I ha 
lost all my girls, they, the greatest creatures on earth, 
naturally began to die a slow death, most of the time think- 
ing of Ruby, Victoria, Florence, Pasaline and Polisky. 
Alexander Bonaparte. 
— ened 
UNCLE JOF’S BANJO 
The man about whom we are going. to relate a story, 
a person of musical talent, was born at New Orleans, 
Louisiana, in the French quarter. Being a Creole, and Cre- 
oles run from black to white, this old man, for he was elderly, 
was black, being known throughout the French Quarter as 
Uncle Joe. This Creole, being sixty years of age, six feet 
tall, weight one hundred and fifty peunds, and having white 
$e 
