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Show The Last of His Race.. A good story is-told about a purse-proud old nobleman who was traveling through the rural districts of Sweden. Over in th at country the people do not have quite, as miich respect for the titled aristocracy1 as in some other localities on the continent. conti-nent. One day this nobleman came rolling roll-ing up to a country tavern, and, as. he stopped his carriage, he called out in an imperious tone : ' "Horses, landlord; horses 'here at once." "I am very much pained to inform you, my lord, that you will have to wait some time over an hour before fresh horses can be brought in," replied the landlord. . "How !" violently exclaimed the nobleman noble-man ; "this to me? My man, I demand horses at once." Then, observing the fresh and sleek-looking sleek-looking horses which were being led up to another carriage, he said : "For whom are tbose horses?" "They were ordered tor this gentleman," gentle-man," answered the landlord, pointing to a tall, slim . individual a few paces distant. dis-tant. "I say, my man," called out the nole-man nole-man to the slim gent, "will you let me have those horses if I pay you a liberal bonus therefor?" "Not much," answered the slim gent; "I intend using them myself." "This to me I" exclaimed the noble man. "That's what I said," replied the slim man. ' ' Perhaps you are not aware who I am " roared the now thoroughly agitated and irate nobleman. "I am, sir, Field Marshal Mar-shal Baron George Sparre, the last and only one of my race." "I am very glad to hear that," said the slim man, stepping into his carriage: "It would be a terrible thing to think that there might be more of you coming. I am inclined to think that your race will be a foot race." Texas Sitings. |