Whilst the greatest effort has been made to ensure the quality of this text, due to the historical nature of this content, in some rare cases there may be minor issues with legibility. Now there was young Deboon from Boston, who was a very learned man; in fact he was one of those fearfully learned young men. A man who could talk in all tongues – and think in none. Perhaps he had some time been a waiter. I am bound to say that in my observations, reaching over many years of travel, that the most dreadfully learned young men I have ever met are the waiters in the Continental hotels.<br><br>Then there was Chipper Charley – smart enough, and a man, too, who had read at least a dozen books; but the Forks didn’t want him for an Alcalde any more than it did Deboon.<br><br>Then there was Limber Tim, and Limber certainly could write his name, for he was always leaning up against trees and houses and fences, when he could find them, and writing the day and date, and making grotesque pictures with a great carpenter’s pencil, which he carried in the capacious depths of his duck breeches’ pocket.
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