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"Did you ever know many marquises, Mr. Hobbs?" Cedric inquired, "or earls?" "No," answered Mr. Hobbs, with indignation; "I guess not. I'd like to catch one of 'em inside here; that's all! I'll have no grasping tyrants sittin' 'round on my cracker-barrels!" And he was so proud of the sentiment that he looked around proudly and mopped his forehead.
One of the fine photoplays of primeval life is the story called Man's Genesis, described in chapter two. We face the exigency the world over of vast instruments like national armies being played against each other as idly and aimlessly as the checker-men on the cracker-barrels of corner groceries.
Nothing so embarrassing as this had ever happened to him in his life. He was a little afraid that it might be a trifle embarrassing to Mr. Hobbs, too. "You said," he proceeded, "that you wouldn't have them sitting 'round on your cracker-barrels." "So I did!" returned Mr. Hobbs, stoutly. "And I meant it. Let 'em try it that's all!" "Mr. Hobbs," said Cedric, "one is sitting on this box now!" Mr.
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