t for a new deal. He took the lead.
He says what might I be wanting to use the Garden for?
"Oh, I won't bulge the walls or strain the floor," I says. "I only want it for a Christmas tree. I am going to invite my friends to a little party."
"Whew, but you must be popular!" he says. "Who the dickens are you? Brother Teddy, or Mother Eddy?"
"I'm Colonel D. Austin Crockett, of Waco," I says as meek as I could.
"Pleased to meet you, Colonel," he says. "What you running for?--District Attorney? Or are you starting a new Mutual Benefit Life Assassination?"
"Neither," I says; "I'm a stranger in New York."
"But these friends of yours?" he gasped. "Is all Waco coming up here on an excursion? Is the town going to move bodily?"
"Mr. Prosecutor," I says, "if you'll stop cross-examining a minute, and let me tell how it all happened, it will save right smart of time. I am a stranger here to about four million people. They are strangers to me. We ought to know each othe
Col. Crockett, of Waco, Texas, finds himself alone in New York City for two consecutive Christmases, and decides to do something about it. Though related with entertaining language in a series of letters from Crockett, it doesn't have much of a plot.