LITMIR.BIZ

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a motorboat. Them that seen him said it was sort o’ funny to see him, settin’ back with his mouth wide open an’ them teeth jiggin’ away inside of it. Often he used to joggle clean off onto the floor, an’ if he didn’t grab the table-leg with his free hand he would joggle all ’round the room. I wouldn’t have had the things at no price.”

      “Neither would I,” said Daniel.

      “Yes, you would,” said S. Potts. “You would if I hadn’t been there to stop you. You would have gone an’ bought a pair, like as not. ’Twould have been just like you to sleep with the blame things in your mouth, like Peter did. That’s what spoiled Peter’s looks. He’d been a fair looker before that, but one night he went to bed with them teeth in his mouth, an’ they got touched off accidental whilst he was asleep, an’ they champed all night, an’ the next morning Peter had the top of his mouth all blistered, except where them teeth had worn calluses, an’ his lower jaw was pushed down so far out of plumb that it was permanently lowered, an’ all the rest of his life he had to go ’round lookin’ like a big-mouth bass out of water. He couldn’t git his mouth shut by an inch. No, sir! You bet he never wore them teeth to bed again!”

      “Took ’em out nights, I reckon,” said Daniel.

      “He took ’em out,” said S. Potts, “but he didn’t do like he ought to have done an’ put ’em outside the house. He laid ’em on the stand by his bed, an’ woke up dreamin’ they was stole, an’ when he put out his hand to see if they was there they bit him on the finger. They bit him three times before he could git his finger out, an’ he was so mad he grabbed ’em an’ threw ’em across the room, an’ they lit on the sofa an’ chewed a sofa-pillow till daybreak. When Peter got up in the morning there wasn’t nothin’ left of the sofa-pillow but fine feather dust, an’ the teeth had chewed on through the sofa, an’ fell to the floor an’ chewed the hind leg of the sofa clean off. Peter’s wife was so mad she never smiled again until she got his insurance money. Peter died from them teeth.”

      “I s’pose,” said Daniel thoughtfully, “I s’pose that when them teeth bit Peter they give him the hydrophoby.”

      S. Potts looked at him sorrowfully. “Ef that ain’t just like you, Daniel!” he said. “There ain’t no logic in you. Of course if this was a pack an’ parcel o’ lies I was tellin’ you, it might be that I’d go on an’ say Peter Guppy got the hydrophoby from that bite, but nothin’ of that kind happened. Natchurally. Because them was Peter’s own teeth what bit him. If Peter had had hydrophoby when them teeth bit him then they would have give it to him, like as not, but he didn’t have. The trouble was that he swallered them teeth. I don’t suppose you know anything about physiology, Daniel?”

      “Well,” S. Potts,” said Daniel apologetically, “I ain’t looked into it much. You ain’t never told me much about—what did you say that word was, S. Potts?”

      “Physiology,” said S. Potts. “But if you don’t know nothin’ about it, it ain’t much use tellin’ you about what happened to Peter Guppy, “cause you wouldn’t understand it. I don’t reckon you know what an esophagus is, even?”

      “Now, S. Potts,” began Daniel pleadingly, “you know I never had any esoph—”

      “Daniel,” said S. Potts, “an esophagus is a sort of knob on the inside of your throat, that’s what it is. It’s put there to help you swaller. But the whole inside of Peter Guppy’s throat was spread wide by the constant champin’ of them teeth, an’ where the back end of them rubbed, his esophagus was worn down to a nubbin. So that’s how it happened that whilst Peter Guppy was goin’ downtown one day he swallered his teeth. He threw his head back to sneeze, an’ whilst his mouth was open them teeth slipped on down his throat. That wouldn’t have been much loss. Them teeth was a failure, an’, anyway, if Peter Guppy had wanted to have a pair he could have rigged up another, but on the way down the push-button bumped against his esophagus, an’ it set them teeth goin’. Never shall I forgit that scene, Daniel, an’ I hope it will be a lesson to you.”

      “I hope so, S. Potts,” said Daniel.

      “I hope so, but I doubt it,” said S. Potts. “I heard poor Peter yell, an’ I run, an’ so did everybody, an’ there was poor Peter layin’ on the ground, writhin’ in agony, an’ nobody knowed what was the matter. Some thought he was havin’ a fit, and some thought maybe he was inventin’ some new invention. Then all of a sudden we seen a little lump rise by his left knee, an’ out come them teeth. Whilst we was all dumfounded, they sort of looked around an’ give a champ or two, an’ jumped right at Peter’s other leg, an’ disappeared, sixty champs to the second. There wasn’t much we could do. Some said one thing an’ some said another, but any of them wouldn’t have done no good; if so I would have done it. You know that, Daniel. When the sun went down there wasn’t nothin’ left of Peter Guppy but one shoe, an’ them Auxiliary Motor Teeth had begun on that, sixty bites to a second. But I stopped that right then.”

      “I bet you did, S. Potts,” said Daniel enthusiastically. “I bet you did.”

      “I did,” said S. Potts. “‘Here,’ I says, teeth has had fun enough, an’ it’s time they stopped. We’d best stop ’em whilst there’s enough of Peter Guppy left to have a funeral with.’ That’s what I said, but I had to git an ax before I could kill them teeth, an’ then they nearly sprang on me an’ bit me. But I was just a little too quick for ’em.”

      “There ain’t no false teeth goin’ to git the best of you, S. Potts,” said Daniel admiringly. “But it does seem sort of too bad that they had to be killed off. They might have—”

      “There you go!” said S. Potts. “If that ain’t just like you! Why, them teeth was murderers! That’s what they was—murderers!”

      Daniel shook his head regretfully. “I’d liked to have seen ’em, S. Potts,” he said. “If you hadn’t killed ’em that way maybe I might have seen ’em, an’ if I had seen ’em I might have knowed how to invent ’em a little better. Of course they was murderers, but you might have sort of arrested ’em—put ’em in the penitentiary. Them teeth oughtn’t to have been killed that way with an ax, S. Potts, even if you did do it. They ought to have been arrested an’ tried. They ought to have had a fair trial,”

      “Well, it ain’t much use tellin’ you things, Daniel,” said S. Potts with disgust. “Seems to me like Peter Guppy give them teeth all the trial they deserved. I bet you don’t even see the moral what this talk has got in it for you. Do you, now?”

      Old Daniel wrinkled his brow and thought deeply. Suddenly he smiled. “Sure I do!” he said. “Sure I do, S. Potts! When a feller invents Auxiliary Motor Teeth he don’t want to use ’em; he wants to sell ’em to other folks.”

      “Great howling Christmas candles!” said S. Potts, and he got up and went back to his saloon.

      ARAMINTA AND THE AUTOMOBILE, by Charles Battell Loomis

      Some persons spend their surplus on works of art; some spend it on Italian gardens and pergolas; there are those who sink it in golf, and I have heard of those who expended it on charity.

      None of these forms of getting away with money appeal to Araminta and myself. As soon as it was ascertained that the automobile was practicable and would not cost a king’s ransom, I determined to devote my savings to the purchase of one.

      Araminta and I lived in a suburban town; she because she loves Nature and I because I love Araminta. We have been married for five years.

      I am a bank clerk in New York, and morning and night I go through the monotony of railway travel, and for one who is forbidden to use his eyes on the train and who does not play cards it is monotony, for in the morning my friends are either playing cards or else reading their papers, and one does not like to urge the claims of conversation on one who is deep in politics or the next play of his antagonist; so my getting to business and coming back are in the nature of purgatory. I therefore hailed the automobile as a Heaven-sent means of swift motion with an agreeable companion,

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