The Abdication of King Wilkins I
Whisker. She has even begun to set the natives against me, and is actually preaching the damnable doctrine that their pride in their whiskers is sinful and disgusting. As for the King, he is not like himself. I have the gravest doubts of his being able to make a firm stand against the New England conscience when reinforced by a pair of fine gray eyes.
May 15.—Early this evening Wilkins launched into a story of his troubles. His impassioned monologue lasted an hour, and the gist of it was as follows:
"Mr. McKackney, I have never failed you yet, nor sidestepped any proposition that I once laid my hand to. You will recall that I took my life in one hand and my camera in the other when I got you the picture of the Insane Cossack with the Pink Whiskers that is the gem of your collection to this day. But I never lost my sleep o' nights before, nor watched my appetite slide out from under me till it would disgrace a hard-working humming bird. And what is it all about? Why, the very thing that you and me have made the
