defects are conditions quite normal to the country.

It was nearly six o'clock when we arrived at Fremont. The streets
were filled with people in gala attire, the militia were out,
--bands playing, fire-crackers going,--a belated Fourth of July.

When we stopped for water, we casually asked a small patriot,--

"What are you celebrating?"

"The second of August," was the prompt reply. I left it to the
Professor to find out what had happened on the second of August,
for the art of teaching is the concealment of ignorance.

With a fine assumption of his very best lecture-room manner, the
Professor leaned carelessly upon the delicate indicator on the
gasoline tank and began:

"That was a great day, my boy."

"Yes, sir, it was."

"And it comes once a year."

"Why, sure."

"Ahem--" in some confusion, "I mean you celebrate once a year."

"Sure, we celebrate every second of August, and it comes every
year."