The Merriment That Followed Was Subdued - As Though The Story-Teller'S Attitude Were Dual, In A Sense, Appealing Quite As Much To Sorrow As To Mere Delight, According, Haply, To The Listener'S Bent Either Of Sad Or Merry Temperament. - "And Of Your Two Appeals I Much Prefer The Pathos," Said "The Noted Traveler," - "For Should I Live To Twice My Present Years, I Know I Could Not Quite Forget The Tears That Child-Eyes Bleed, The Little Palms Nailed Wide, And Quivering Soul And Body Crucified.... But, Bless 'Em! There Are No Such Children Here To-Night, Thank God! - Come Here To Me, My Dear!" He Said To Little Alex, In A Tone So Winning That The Sound Of It Alone Had Drawn A Child More Lothful To His Knee: - "And, Now-Sir, I'll Agree If You'll Agree, - You Tell Us All A Story, And Then I Will Tell One." "But I Can't." "Well, Can't You Try?" "Yes, Mister: He Kin Tell One. Alex, Tell The One, You Know, 'At You Made Up So Well, About The Bear. He Allus Tells That One," Said Bud, - "He Gits It Mixed Some 'Bout The Gun An' Ax The Little Boy Had, An' Apples, Too." - Then Uncle Mart Said - "There, Now! That'll Do! - Let Alex Tell His Story His Own Way!" And Alex, Prompted Thus, Without Delay Began.