His Glasses Stolen Off His Nose.
He is a well-known figure in Chicago, particularly among the old settlers. It was 4 o’clock and the daily afternoon stream of homegoers had set in. He had made his uneventful way from his editorial sanctum, as he does, with few exceptions, every day in the year, to the stairs on Congress street, which lead to the trains on the Alley L road. As is his wont, he was pursuing a wholly subjective train of thought as he jostled along with the tide of humanity which was moving up the stairs to board a train.
Suddenly, just as he was reaching the landing, his gold-bowed spectacles were swept off his nose and he found himself dazed and blinking, too much astonished for the moment to cry out, and quite unable to see anything distinctly. As soon as he fairly realized what had happened he cried out:
“I’ve been robbed! Officer! Where is an officer?” While the usual stampede which invariably attends excitement of any sort in a crowd was going on the train moved off, and the officer put in an appearance. By this time the editor, full of years and experience, who had of a truth had his property stolen before his very eyes, had reflected that probably his spectacles were already in a pawn shop, and also that he did not care to see his name in print in connection with the incident. He, therefore, coolly stated to the officer that he had been the victim of a practical joke, and made his way home as best he could, not being able to see anything distinctly.