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Show OLEOLSONWASDRUNK. He Got On a Bender Last Night and Was Carted Off to tho lockup. IT WAS HAED ON LINGUISTS. Meo of Many Languages Take a Turn at the Prisoner Before Making Him Understand- Nobody would suspect Billy McCurdy of being a linguist. Ho doesn't wear goldrimmed eyeglasses nor does his hair hang over the summit of his backbone back-bone like a Niagara expressing studious habits of its wearer. If you would say he was any sort of a professor you would call him one of tho school of Donaldson or J. Lawrence Sullivan, LL. D. He is short and chunky and has a muscle like an old stove and a fist like a horseblock. Mr. McCurdy occupies a responsible position and a leather cushioned chair in the office of the police department. A part of his duties is to herd John Doe and Richard Roe together in the morning and conduct them before the august or September tribunal conducted by Judgo Laney. It so happens that about every man whogets good and soggy drunk in Salt Lake is a foreigner. Fiulanders, Hot-teutolts, Hot-teutolts, Frenchmen, Danes, Norwcig-ans, Norwcig-ans, Portuguese, all these, but few Americans loaf in the society of tho flowing bowl until it washes them away with other driftwood to the police station. sta-tion. As a consequence, when it comes to arraigning these people, it takes a man who is familiar with dead and living language to get through it and retain his shirt. This morning a man named Olo 01-sen 01-sen eamo up for trial as a plain, blonde drunk. "Are you guilty or not guilty?" asked Judgo Laney. Tho prisoner looked in silent awe at the foicnsic light which the judge lit just then and said nothing. noth-ing. Clerk Dunbar, who was born in Corsica, then reached out and said in purest Corsican: 'II tomato can luin turn oolah?" Mr. Olsen looked sad and changed feet, but that was all. 'He don't smoke that," Dunbar said. "Eichnor, give him some of that pure sour mash Egyptian you wear in your pockets." Assistant City Attorney Eichnor shook hands in bidding good-bye to sanity and reason and then exploded like this: "Com lo oul O'Toole, O'Shaughnessy inon Muldoon Allah il Allah, Little Annie Rooney?" Mr. Olsen picked up the teeth and politely returned them to the attorney, but his sad smilo haunted the court room still. Then Eastman, the county attorney's representative got action in Gevuian: "Geh llcim! Du bist verreicht, mein Kind. Lelinn sie mir cin Thaler!" Colonel Olsen looked kind of bewildered, bewil-dered, but he recovered in a moment and took a chew of tobacco. But he made no motion toward saying anything. any-thing. "This is an Egyptian," quietly observed ob-served a reporter who sat near. "I know them by the book. See that red spot on his neck that looks like a boil was coming. You think that's a boil? Well, it ain't. That's a sign. It means that he's a pasha with eleven wives." "I'll file a complaint at once," said Mr. Eichnor. "They "O, they're in tho Holy land. Look here, you.' Koran Talmud Mahomet Montpelier Vermont Muscovite Ben-Hur Ben-Hur uon compos mentis good morning have you tried Pears' soap parbleau aba la roche cochon?" It was hard to see pride go before a fall that way. It was such a hard fall you would almost call it a winter. But all the same, General Olsen didn't say a word. Then it was that McCurdy came to time. Rolling back his sleeves and loosening loosen-ing his suspenders he expectorated on his hands and threw a voice like scrap-iron scrap-iron into space. "Say!" lie roared, "were you drunk last night?" A glad light broke on the prisoner's face as he heard his native language so far away from home. He straightened up joyfully and said: "Yes. Me drunk like hell." And the judge, Dunbar, Eichnor, Eastman aud tho reporter quit right there and acknowledged in Mr. McCurdy Mc-Curdy a linguist whose powers exceeded their own as the sun pales the stars. But General Olsen got live days in tho gravel pit all the samo. |