thought the major had such touchy kind a feelins. Anything wrong just about yer goggler. Interrupts romescos, giving the vender a quizzical look, and a halfway wink. Then, setting his slouch hat on an extra poise, he contorts his face into a dozen grimaces. Keep conscience down, and strike up trade, he says, very coolly, drawing a large piece of tobacco from his breastpocket and filling his mouth to its utmost capacity. Feelings are over all things, responds the sheriff, who stands by, and will speak for the vender, who is less accustomed to speaking