I  decline  to  detail  the  dialogue  which  then  took  place  between  my  wife  and
myself.     Whatever  claim  the  public  may  have  on  me,  it  has  no  right  to


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312


EEMAEKS    BY    BILL    NYE.
demand  this.  It  will  continue  to  remain  sacred.  That  is,  not  so  very  saered
of  course,  if  I  remember  my  exact  language  at  the  time,  but  sacredly  secret
from  the  prying  eyes  of  the  public.
It  is  singular,  but  it  is  none  the  less  the  never  dying  truth,  that  the  only
time  that  paste  ever  stuck  anything  at  all,  was  when  I  applied  it  to  my  wife

and  that  picture.  After  that  it
did  everything  but  adhere.  It
gourmed  and  it  gummed  every-
thing, but  that  was  all.
The  man  who  wrote  the  rec-
ipe may  have  been  stuck  on  it,
but  nothing  else  ever  was.
Finally  a  friend  came  along
who  helped  me  pick  the  paper
o£P  the  dog  and  soothe  my
wife.  He  said  that  what  this
paste  needed  was  more  glue
and  a  quart  of  molasses.  I
added  these  ingredients,  and
constructed  a  quart  of  chem-
ical molasses  which  looked  like
crude  ginger  bread  in  a  molten
state.
Then,  with  the  aid  of  my
friend,  I  proceeded  to  paper  the
room.  The  paper  would  seem  to  adhere  at  times,  and  then  it  would  refrain
from  adhering.  This  was  annoying,  but  we  succeeded  in  applying  the  paper
to  the  walls  in  a  way  that  showed  we  were  perfectly  sincere  about  it.  We
didn't  seek  to  mislead  anybody  or  cover  up  anything.  Any  one  could  see
where  each  roll  of  paper  tried  to  be  amicable  with  its  neighbor — also  where
we  had  tried  the  laying  on  of  hands  in  applying  the  paper.
