clerk of mine off the street car he's driving." And then, like the true gentleman he is, he pulled a pack of passes out of his pocket as thick as a deck of cards and fills out an annual for Col. Bowie.
" You know what I think about passes?" he says suddenly. " I think every editor and orator and legislator and councilman ought to have one over every rail-road in the United States. I've told our directors that. Here are all these people, I says, the very salt of the earth, giving up their time and thought for the country and getting nothing for it but the measliest sort of pickings, and yet what does the country do for them ? Lets 'em walk. They ought to have one pass that would take 'em everywhere. And berths in the sleeper. If I have wrote old Pullman about it once I have twenty times telling him to sow sleeper passes among the molders of thought and leaders of opinion. And hotels. I've told Joe Thompson of the Kimball House and Colonel Dodge of the Aragon that all you people ought to be kept free. But you can't make 'eni see the reasonableness and justice of it. Here's Allec. Bowie goes down to Atlanta and stops at Joe Thompson's tavern. All the free-silver people and statesmen flock to see him. They goes into the bar and drinks, maybe, all day. All the time Joe gets a big profit on his whisky and catawba wine and yet charges Allec. Bowie from $2 to $5 per clay hoard. If it wasn't for great men like Allec. Bowie I'd like to know how he'd sell his liquors and segars? Why he charges you $2 a day for a room without feed. Now I