The day upon which he died, every newspaper in the 
city published a biographical sketch, which, being entitled, 
“The Moonshine Comedian Has Passed Away,” caused the 
inhabitants of the city in which he lived to give a memorial 
that they called “A Twentieth Century Feast of Bacchus. 
LOST WOMEN 
There is an intellectual friend of mine of whom I am de- 
sirous of introducing to you, a young fellow of twenty-five 
ears, being short, well formed, and good-looking; besides, 
aving a very pleasing personality, a voice between that of a 
man and a woman, a voice of silver, oratorical sweetness, one 
that penetrates the beautiful soul of the listener, simultan- 
eously giving the hearer’s body the best satisfaction of sub- 
lime sensation. Hence, the youth about whom we speak, a 
citizen of Chicago, is known by the name of Alexander Bona- 
spe having the first name of a great American, Alexander 
amilton, the last name of a great Frenchman, Napoleon 
Bonaparte. 
ae I have always called him Bony, while he has al- 
ways called me Paty. Bony used to visit me two, and some- 
times three, times a weék, whereupon he and I would talk 
about everything that we could think of, anything that we 
knew something about. Animals, plants, the heavens, the 
geological products of the earth, great wars, famous men 
and women, all used to fill our brain with imaginations, 
scenes of the past, happenings of the present, and the pre- 
dictions of the future. When Bony and I did not converse 
on said subjects, we perused some of my books; for, that 
I have five thousand and four hundred books, and shall 
continue collecting them until I be possessed of six thousand 
volumes, the same amount that Voltaire had. I must say 
that he and I have always found something interesting 
between said pages. Because, having such a wonderful 
variety of books in my possession we have the pictures of 
the greatest artists, the philosophy of the master thinkers 
of all ages, and the history, fiction, poetry, drama, orations, 
and biographs in the palm of our hands, hands that held the 
astronomical universe, the sun, moon, stars, comets, every- 
thing in creation. 
at Bony had been sick for two weeks, he had not 
been enabled to pay me a visit. So, it being a matter of 
profound respect on my part to go to his sick bed every 
evening, I did so, where, on being seated besides him, we 
resumed our usual chats, little talks that are eternal memories, 
tiny for-get-me-nots of yesterday, today and tomorrow. 
54 
een see a a ge a 
