Millard County Chronicle | 1912-09-26 | Page 3 | Limit of Gail.

Limit of Call. John V. Conlcy, business agent for the Uoston Bartenders' union. Is repeating re-peating a story told by on of the members of his local, which, ho says, shows the limit of pure unadulterated nerve. It seems that a thirsty Individ ual strolled Into the "wet goods em-porftim," em-porftim," where this particular bar tender presided and asked for a beer. After his glass was filled he said: "Take one yourself." The bartender drew one and the two drank. "Now," said he of the thirst. "I'll match you to see who pays. Lend me a coin to mntch with?" Amazed at the gall of the party, the bartender compiled with his request and down he slapped them on the counter. One was a head and the other was a tall "Didn't you say you were matching me?" asked the mixer of liquids. "Now," replied the nervy party as he strolled toward the door, "You are matchln' mo an' lost." Boston Traveler.