A man wearing passably good clothes and a look of mental anxiety entered a fashionable drug-store, and said to the clerk:
“Are you pretty well posted on big words?”
“Yes,” said the clerk, “I know quite a large number of big words.”
“Well, then,” said the stranger, “here’s the situation: Out where I live I am a pretty big gun, and when anything is going on they call on me for a speech. I made one on election day, another the same evening, and another the next morning, and now I’m laying the sleepers for a speech to eclipse them all.”
“What sort of a speech?” asked the clerk.
“Political, of course. My other speeches were political, but were very plain. This time I want to get in some regular old twisters. For one thing I would declare this country in a state of—what do you call it?”
“Peace!”
“No, sir; I mean confusion, excitement, and so on. There’s a word to signify it, but I can’t speak it.”
“Abject terrorism?”
“No—no. Its archany, or something of the kind.”
“I guess you mean anarchy, don’t you?”
“I do—I do! Bless me if I haven’t been trying for a whole hour to get that word! That’s the very thing. When called out I want to lead off with: ‘Fellow citizens, the peace has flown, and arnica reigns supreme!’ I guess that will knock them.”
“You don’t mean arnica—you mean anarchy.”
“That’s what I mean, of course, but every time I think anarchy I get it arnica, and I don’t know but I will have to give up the speech.”
“Why don’t you write it down?”
The man took up a pen and wrote: “A-r-k-a-n-y.” Then he said: “Peace has fled and arkany reigns in the land.”
“I told you it was anarchy.”
“That’s so—that’s so. This suspense is telling on my memory like a fit of illness. Now, then, a-n-a-r-k-y, anarky, and don’t you forget it. You needn’t say anything about my calling in here.”
“Oh, that’s all right. Over seven-eighths of the best speakers in town come to me for big words.”
“Many thanks; and now, ‘Fellow citizens, peace has fled far, far away, and arkany reigns——’ Hold on, is that the right word?”
He halted at the door to examine the slip of paper, and after repeating the right word over several times he went on:
“A state of anchovy is upon us, and where will it end?”
As he walked up the street he was overheard to say:
“Arnica! Arnica! where will it end?”
