Jasper County Democrat, Volume 2, Number 22, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 9 September 1899 — COACHMAN KEPT HIS DIGNITY. [ARTICLE]

COACHMAN KEPT HIS DIGNITY.

Incidentally Hia Employer J'ad His Way in a Roundabout Fashion. This is one of the many stories that are floating about town concerning a man very well known In the capital, who is spending the summer in England, says the Washington Post. He has taken a country house over there for the season, and is living a grand seigneur with a troop of dear only knows how many servants. These English servants, so their American master has discovered, are quite unlike the menials to whom he is accustomed in his own country. They are specialists. Each one of them is hired for some one particular work, and professional etiquette forbids them to trespass on each other’s preserves. How strictly they keep them each to his own work the American did not know till, sauntering idly out of the house one day, he espied a watering can, which had been left by a gardener at a little distance from the mansion on the ed.ge of the drive. It occurred to him that it would be amusing to play at being a gardener. He would water the flowers himself. So, calling to a man servant, who happened to be passing, he bade him fetch the watering can. The man straightened himself up and touched his cap. “Beg pardon, sir,” he said, in a tone of respect, not unmixed with surprise, “I’m the coachman, sir.”. “All right,” answered the American; “bring me that can.” “Beg pardon, sir,” repeated the man, “but I’m the coachman, sir.” - “Well, well,” said the American. “I know you’re the coachman. Bring me the can.” The coachman touched his cap again, and repeated his former remark. Light dawned on the American. “Oh,” said he, “you’re the coachman, are you? Well, coachman, you go round to the stables and have my four-in-hand brought round at once.” The coachman saluted and walked away. The coach and four drew up at the door a few minutes later. The master climbed in. “Now,” said he, “drive me to that ■watering can." The order was obeyed. The horses paused a hundred yards down the drive. “Get down and hand me the can, now,” ordered the master. A moment later he was contentedly watering the flowers. He had the can, the coachman’s dignity had been preserved, and all was well. No Book of Instructions, Weary Watkins—l see here in the paper about how to git on a trolley car and off. Hungry Higgles—l bet you won’t see no piece about how to git on and off of freight cars. That klad of thing comes by nature, er it don’t come at all.—lndlananolis JournaL