IN AN IRISH MIST
He read all the newspapers and magazines he could get his hands on at the hut and mailed three picture postcards, and after that strolled along the one main street of the town and wondered whether any of the citizens of Queenstown ever did any work. So far as he could see most of the inhabitants were holding up the fronts of the buildings along the water! He yielded to the blandishments of four beggars, tried to understand the tearful tale of a stranded Norwegian sailor, bought some butterscotch and got his jaws stuck so firmly together that he feared he would have to seek the aid of a surgeon, and then literally walked into the arms of Martin.
"Hello, Nep," laughed the latter, releasing him. "Lost your eyesight?"
"Nobagamatetutugada," replied Nelson earnestly.
"Come again, please!"
"IhayIgamate"
"Yes, I understand that," said Martin gravely, "but what happened after the torpedo struck?"
Nelson seized him by the arm, in desperation, and started him up the hill.
"Oh, I see," jabbered the other. "You've hidden the corpse on top of the hill, eh? Better look back and see if we're followed, Nep. The last
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