Once upon a time, out in the Rubber Boot Reservation, the Stork came
staggering up to a Frame Dwelling with a hefty Infant. The arrival was
under the Zodiacal Sign of Taurus, the Bull. Every Omen was propitious.
When the Gallery was admitted, on the third day, the gaping Spectators
observed that the Youngun had an open Countenance, somewhat like a
Channel Cat, a full head of Hair bushing at the nape of the neck, and
a hypnotic Eye; so they knew he was destined for the Service of the
Public.
Even while he was in the custody of the Old Women of the Township, he
began reaching for everything he saw and testing his Voice. He
claimed his Rations frequently and with insistence.
While he was demonstrating an elastic Capacity, the head Prophetess
called attention to his aggressive Style and predicted a political
Career.
It was a cinch Horoscope, for the Begetters were a successful
Auctioneer and a Poetess of local repute.
The Child was christened Sylvester, in anticipation of his Future
Greatness.
Several years later, when he rebelled against going to the Barber Shop
and began to speak Pieces on the slightest provocation, the Parents
rejoiced over these budding symptoms of Statesmanship and bought him a
Drum.
At school he was a Dummy in Mathematics and a Lummox when it came to
Spelling Down, but every Friday afternoon he was out in the lead,
wearing Bells.
Before he acquired a Vocabulary or accumulated Data, he got by on his
Nerve. In later years he never forgot that Facts are non-essential
if the Vocal Cords are in tune.
When the Pupils tacked the old standby, "Resolved, that Education is
better than Riches," he could tremolo on the Affirmative one week and
then reverberate for the Negative one week later, never doubting his
own Sincerity at any stage of the Game.
The grinding classmates who had secured the mark of A in Geometry and
Rhetoric were not in the running on Commencement Day.
Our Hero got his Diploma on a Fluke, but when he appeared on the
Rostrum between an Oleander and the Members of the Board, with Goose-
Goose on the Aureole, the new Store Suit garnished with a leaf of
Geranium and a yellow Rose-Bud, and the Gates Ajar Collar lashed fast
with his future Trade-Mark: viz., a White Bow Tie--he had all the
Book Worms crushed under his Heel.
He pulled out the stop marked "Vox Humana" and begged his Hearers to
lift the sword of Justice and with it smite the Deluge of Organized
Wealth which was crouched and ready to spring upon the Common People.
In pleading the cause of Labor, he spoke as an expert, for once he had
strung a Clothes-Line for his Mother.
He got the biggest Hand of any one at the Exercises. After denouncing
the predaceous Interests he relapsed into an attitude of Meditation,
with the Chin on the starched Front, very much like a Steel Engraving
of Daniel Webster.
The enthralled Townsmen, seeing him thus, with the Right Hand buried in
the Sack Suit and the raven Mop projecting in the rear, allowed that
there was nothing to it. He was a Genius and billed through for the
Legislature.
Some Boys have to go to College to get a Shellac Finish, but Sylvester
already had the Dark Clothes and the Corrugated Brow and a voice like
a Tuba, so, to complete his Equipment, he merely had to sit tilted back
in a Law Office for a few months and then borrow Money to get a Hat
such as John A. Logan used to wear.
All who saw him move from Group to Group along the Hitch Rack on
Saturday afternoon, shaking hands with the Rustics and applying the
Ointment, remarked that Ves was a young man of Rare Promise and could
not be held back from the Pay-Roll for any considerable length of Time.
He was one of the original 787 Boy Orators of the Timothy Hay Section
of the Imperial Middle West.
At every hotel Banquet, whether by the Alumni of the Shorthand College
or under the auspices of the Piano Movers' Pleasure Club, he was right
up at the Head Table with his Hair rumpled, ready to exchange a
Monologue for a few warm Oysters and a cut of withered Chicken.
On Memorial Day it was Sylvester who choked up while laying his
Benediction on the Cumrads of the G. A. R..
On Labor Day he unbuttoned his Vest all the way down, held a trembling
Fist clear above the leonine Mat, and demanded a living Wage for every
Toiler.
Consequently he acquired repute as a Staunch Friend of the
Agriculturist, the Steam Fitter, the Old Soldier, the Department Store
Employee, and others accustomed to voting in Shoals. In order to
mature himself and be seasoned for onerous Responsibilities, he waited
until he was 22 years of age before attempting to gain a frontage at
the Trough.
It was highly important that he should serve the Suvrin People in some
Capacity involving Compensation. It was fairly important to him and it
was vitally important to a certain Woman of gambling Disposition, who
operated a Boarding-House.
Sylvester was the type of Lawyer intensely admired but seldom employed,
save by Criminals entirely bereft of Means.
In addition to his Board, the young Barrister actually required a pouch
of Fine Cut and a clean White Tie every week, so he was impelled by
stern Necessity to endeavor to hook up with a Salary.
Because Sylvester had administered personal Massage to every Voter
within five Miles of his office, he thought he could leap into the
Arena and claim an immediate Laurel Wreath by the mere charm and vigor
of his Personality.
He ignored the Whispering Ikes who met in the dim Back Room, with
Cotton plugged in the Key Hole.
The Convention met, and when it came time to nominate a Candidate for
State's Attorney, all of Sylvester's tried and true Friends among the
Masses were at home working in the Garden and spread out in the Hammock.
The Traction Engine pulled the Juggernaut over the Popular Idol.
They lit on him spraddled out. They gave him the Doo-Doo.
When the Battle had ended, he was a mile from the cheerful Bivouac,
lying stark in the Moonlight.
He was supposed to be eliminated. The only further recognition
accorded him would be at the Autopsy.
Next day he was back in his usual Haunts, with an immaculate Bow Tie
and a prop Smile, shaking hands with all who had so recently harpooned
him. As a Come-Back he was certainly the resilient Kid.
Those who had marveled at his sole-leather Organ of Speech, now had to
admire his sheet metal Sensibilities, nor could they deny that he
possessed all the attributes of a sound and durable Candidate.
He had learned his Primer lesson in Politics. As soon as he saw that
he could not throw the Combination, he joined it.
He came into the Corral and lay down in the Dust and allowed them to
brand him as a Regular.
Sylvester became the White Slave of the Central Committee, knowing that
eventually true Patriotism would have to be recognized and recompensed.
When he came to bat the second time he had the Permanent Chairman and
the Tellers and all the Rough-Necks plugging for him, consequently it
was a Pipe.
But it was a case of Reverse English on Election Day, for the venal
Opposition rode into power on a Tidal Wave.
After the Tide had receded, Sylvester was found asleep among the Clams
and Sea-Weed, apparently so far gone that a Pulmotor would be no help.
Three days later, however, he was on hand, with chaste Neckwear and a
jaunty Front, to make a Presentation Speech to the Chief of the Fire
Department.
Talk about your Rubber Cores! The harder they run him down the higher
he bounced back.
Those who had been marked by Fate to be his Constits began to see that
Sylvester was something invincible and not to be denied.
What though his Detractors called him a Four-Flush and a False Alarm,
alleging that a true analysis of his Mentality would be just about as
profitable as dissecting a Bass Drum?
The more they knocked, the more oleo-margarine became his beaming
Countenance, for he knew that Calumny avails naught against a White Tie
in the Hot-Bed of cut-and-dried Orthodoxy.
He played the social String from the W. C. T. U. to the Elks and was a
blood-brother of the Tin Horn and the acidulated Elder with the scant
Skilligans.
In order to keep the High-Binders and the Epworth Leaguers both on his
Staff at one and the same time, he had to be some Equilibrist, so he
never hoisted a Slug except in his own Office, where he kept it behind
the Supreme Court Reports.
When he went out the third time for the same Job, the Voters saw it was
no use trying to block him off, so he landed.
In the full crimson of Triumph, with new Patent Leather Shoes and as
much as $40 in his Kick at one time, he never forgot for a moment he
was a servant of the Pe-hee-pul and might want to run for something
else in the near future.
He tempered Justice with Mercy and quashed many an Indictment if the
Defendant looked like a grateful Geezer who might be useful in his own
Precinct.
No one dared to attack him because of the fact that he had delivered a
Lecture to the eager young souls at the Y. M. C. A., in which he had
exhibited a Road Map and proved that adherence to the Cardinal Virtues
leads unerringly to Success.
At the age of thirty-two he broke into the Legislature and began to
wear a White Vest, of the kind affected by the more exclusive Bar
Tenders. Also a variety of Shroud known as the Prince Albert.
He was fearless in discussing any proposed Measure that did not worry
the Farmer Vote in his own District.
As for Wall Street and the Plunder-bund, when he got after them, he was
a raving Bosco. A regular Woof-Woofer and bite their heads off.
About the time he came up for re-election, a lot of Character-Assassins
tried to shell-road him and hand him the Guff and crowd him into the
9-hole. They said he had been flirting with the Corporations and sitting
in on Jack-Pots and smearing himself at the Pie Counter.
Did they secure his Goat by such crude Methods?
Not while the 5-octave Voice and the enveloping Prince Albert and the
snow-white Necktie were in working Trim.
He went over the whole District in an Auto (one of the fruits of his
Frugality), and everywhere that Sylvester went the American Eagle was
sure to go, riding on the Wind-Shield, and a Starry Banner draped over
the Hood.
He waved aside all Charges made against him. To give them serious Heed
would be an Insult to the high Intelligence of the Hired Hands gathered
within Sound of his Voice. He believed in discussing the Paramount
Issues.
So he would discuss them in such a way that the Railway Trains passing
by were no interruption whatsoever.
In course of time his Hair outgrew the Legislature. He was on
whispering terms with a clean majority of all the Partisans in three
connecting Counties, so he bought one Gross of the White String Kind
and a pair of Gum Sneakers and began to run amuck as a Candidate for
Congress.
Even his trusty Henchmen were frightened to know that he had become
obsessed of such a vaulting Ambition.
They did not have him sized, that was all. The farther from home he
traveled, the more resounding was the Hit he registered.
The Days of Spring were lengthening and the Campaign was not far
distant when Sylvester, after looking at the Signs in the Sky and
putting his Ear to the Ground, discovered that he was thoroughly
impregnated with the new Progressive Doctrines.
The change came overnight, but he was in the Band Wagon ahead of the
Driver.
As nearly as he could formulate his private Platform, he was still true
to his Party but likewise very keen for any Reform Measure that 55 per
cent. of the Voters might favor, either at the present time or previous
to any future Election.
After the heated Radicals in every School District had listened to
Sylvester and learned that all his Views coincided to a T with their
own revised Schedule, they lined up and landslided.
One November morning Our Hero, no longer a penniless Law Student, but
owing, at a conservative Estimate, between $6000 and $8000, sat
tranquilly in front of the T-Bone Steak, the Eggs, the Batter Cakes,
the Cinnamon Rolls, and the Reservoir of Coffee, comprising the
Breakfast of one who always remained near to the Rank and File.
His Hair was roached in a new way, for the Bulletins at Midnight had
told him that he was a Congressman.
Those who had known him in the old Free-Lunch Days, when a Tie lasted
him for a Week, now felt honored to receive his stately Salutation as
he moved slowly from the Post Office up to the Drug Store, to buy his
Bronchial Lozenges.
Many of the Lower Classes, as well as the more Prominent People
belonging to the Silver Cornet Band, were gathered at the Station when
he started for Washington to fight in the impending Battle between the
Corn-Shuckers and the Allies of Standard Oil.
Men and Women standing right there in the Crowd could remember when he
had borrowed his first Dollar.
And now he was going to stand beneath the dome of the Capitol to weave
a new Fabric of Government and see that it didn't crock or unravel.
Sylvester and his glossy Trunk arrived at the Mecca, where they were
pleasantly received by the Agent of the Transfer Company in full
Uniform, and a Senegambian with a Red Cap, who hunted up the Taxi.
After waiting many weary Years, Sylvester once more had a School Desk
of his own. It was in the far corner of a crowded Pit surrounded by
elevated Seats.
The Hon. Sylvester found himself entirely surrounded by victims of
involuntary Dumbness.
By referring to a printed List he ascertained that he was a member of
the Committee on Manual Training for the Alaskan Indians.
In his Boarding House he became acquainted with Department Clerks who
were well advanced in the technology of Base Ball.
After a few weeks, he was on chatting Terms with a Young Lady in charge
of a Cigar and News Counter.
As soon as the Paper was delivered every morning he could find out what
had happened in Congress the day before.
If confused by the Cares of State, he sought diversion by taking a
Visitor from Home to see the Washington Monument.
After three months, he met a National Committeeman with a Pull who
promised to secure him an introduction to the Speaker so that he could
maneuver around and get something into the Record before his time was
up.
In the meantime, he is heard to advantage on every Roll Call, and the
Traducers back in the District have not been able to lay a finger on
anything Crooked.
MORAL: There is always Room and Board at the Top.
THE NEW FABLE OF THE AERIAL PERFORMER, THE BUZZING BLONDINE, AND THE
DAUGHTER OF MR. JACKSON
Once upon a time a Lad with Cinnamon Hair and wide blue Eyes lived in
a half-portion Town.
He had received more than 2000 Tickets for answering "Here" at the
M. E. Sunday School.
His kinfolk hoped that some day he would be President of the Town Board.
Shortly after he learned to roll a safe game of Pool, the Governor
demised.
Robert, such being the full front name of the sole Heir, found that he
could not spread his Pinions in the narrow Streets of the lichen-
covered Hamlet.
So he blew. He went to find an Avenue that would accommodate seven
Zeppelin Air-Ships moving abreast at one time.
He closed out the Dry Goods Emporium with the Shirt-Waists and the
shameless Hosiery in the Windows.
An Apartment Building, with Packages delivered at the rear, soon began
to flaunt itself on the site of the old Manse.
With all the currency corralled by the late Store-Keeper padded into
his Norfolk Jacket, the gallus Offspring hurried to the Metrop to pick
the Primroses.
In a short time he was out at the Track every day, barking at the Goats
as they hove into the Stretch.
The pencil-borrowing Touts and the Wine Pushers began to call him Bob,
which proved that he was a Man about Town.
When the final Kiflukus was put on the Ponies, he assembled the residue
of his Bundle and began to work steady as a Guesser in a Broker's
Office.
His job was to show at 10 A. M. with a big Reina Victoria at one
extreme corner of his Face and pretend to know what was coming off when
the Boy put the funny marks on the Blackboard.
Ever and anon he would buy 1000 Shares of something, as if Negotiating
for a Bread-Ticket.
As a rule, the tall-grass Plunger with a wad of new Kale has about the
same percentage in his favor as that enjoyed by a Shoat out at the
well-known Establishment of Armour & Co.
The Cleaners go forth to meet him, bearing as Gifts a Dream-Book and a
new kind of Cocktail with a Kick like a Coast-Defense Gun.
A few weeks later they are casting lots for his Union Suit.
Bob came from Simpville, but he had acquired a couple of Wrinkles
associating with the Wing Shots in the Paddock.
He could shift to either Foot and he kept his Maxillary covered.
Sometimes he picked up the wrong Walnut. It would begin to look like
a quick change from Caviar to Crackers.
More than once his Heels were beating a tattoo on the grassy brink of
a Precipice.
Then he would smell around until he discovered Something Doing. A
couple of lucky shots and he would be on Velvet again and whanging
away like a Demon.
At last, with a Bull Market and a system of Pyramids, he began to sweep
it in with his Fore-Arm.
Head Waiters paid him the most grovelling Attentions and bright eyes
grew brighter yet when he suggested pulling a little Supper, with a
$400 Souvenir at each Plate.
He was admitted to full membership in the Tango Tribe of the Tenderloin
Night-Riders.
This select Coterie was organized for the purpose of closing all
Cabarets by 6 A. M..
An early hour was named because many of them were not made up for the
cold Daylight.
About the time he began to discover Vintages he discovered Elphye also.
She was an Actress who was too busy to perform on the Stage.
Elphye had a good Social Position back at her Home lot but, for some
reason, she never sent for it.
Her Parents had arranged for her to be a Brunette, but when Bob met
her, between the Guinea Hen and the Cafe Parfait, she was a Lemon
Meringue.
Elphye wore Clothes that made a noise like a Piccolo.
She was there with the jeweled Heels and the hand-painted Ankles.
In trying to make her Gowns anywhere from six to nine months ahead of
Paris, she sprung several Effects that caused the Chandeliers to
tremble and the Ice to melt in the Buckets.
She had abolished her Shape entirely and abandoned the Perpendicular,
preferring a Droop which indicated that possibly she had been
fashioned over a Barrel.
She tried to model herself on the lines of a string Bean, slightly
warped by the Sun.
The Ascending Star of the Financial World was stunned by the Apparition.
No one had tipped it off to him that the Queen of Sheba was to be
reincarnated.
He found Elphye ever and ever so accomplished.
She knew all the Songs that now blister the Varnish off the Pianos in
so many well-ordered Homes.
She was enough of a Contortionist to get away with several Dances named
for the innocent Poultry.
Being a close student of the Bill-Boards she was in touch with Current
Happenings.
Her Eye-Work was perfect, but she found it hard pumping to Blush at the
right time.
When she tackled Polite Conversation she put a few Tooth-Marks in it.
Still she made a very creditable Stab for a Girl brought up in Michigan
and never east of Sheepshead Bay.
She looked very creamy to Bob, if the Music was loud enough.
He liked to tow something that would cause the Oyster Forks to pause in
midair and the Catty Ones to reach for their hardware.
When Elphye did a little Barnum and Bailey down the main Chute of a
Terrapin Bazaar, rest assured that every Eye in the Resort was aimed at
her gleaming Vertebrae.
Bob showed her his monthly Statements and she confessed to being very
fond of him. So it was planned that they would Marry some afternoon,
if she could get away from the Masseuse early enough.
The Troth was pledged in a few high-priced Trinkets which she had
decided upon before he spoke to her.
Just when it seemed a mortal Pipe that the Bull Tactics would enable
him to cop a Million, so that he could live at a Hotel and finance the
Little Queen, the Unseen Superintendent in the Tower began to throw the
Switches of Destiny.
If Bob had not speeded so far into the Country in the Smell-Wagon,
there would have been no Flat Tire.
If there had been no Flat Tire, he would have been back in time for the
usual round-up of the Irrigation Committee and never would have been a
Great Financier.
Marooned among the Hay-Fields, he stopped at a Farm House and took a
long chance on some Well-Water, dipped in a Gourd from the Moss-Covered
Bucket.
Scotch Whiskey is never contaminated by Surface Drains, but each
sparkling Drop of the Fluid that Bob quaffed, there beneath the
Willows, contained more than 2,000,000 of the Germs made notorious by
Dr. Woods Hutchinson.
A few days later a swarm of Bees settled in each ear. Every Sky-
Scraper gave an imitation of the Leaning Tower of Pisa.
He knew he was out of Kelter, but he had to watch the Board, for he had
put every Bean in the World on an acrobatic Industrial known as Tin
Bucket Preferred.
Already the Paper Profits were enormous. Bob figured confidently on
another Whoop of 50 points and a double string of Pearls for Elphye.
But when the poor Loon had a Temperature of 5 above Par and had to
cling to the Brass Rail to keep from taking the Count, he lost his
Nerve entirely.
He couldn't see anything on the Horizon except Tariff Revision, Hard
Times, Weeping Women, Starving Kiddies, Closed Factories, Soup
Kitchens, and Bread Lines.
While in this dotty State and quite irresponsible, he directed the
Manager to close out the whole Smear and sell short.
Furthermore, he was so daffy and curdled in the Filbert that he sold
three times as much as he had.
Then he did a couple of Spins and a Flop, and the White Ambulance bore
him away to the big Hospital.
If Mr. Hornung Jackson of Round Grove, Maryland, had not entered upon
his Second Childhood at the age of 55, his Family would have remained
on Easy Street.
Mr. Jackson thought he could sit in his Front Room and read the
burglarious Meditations of the High-Binders in Wall Street.
Consequently, when the Tin Box was searched, the Day after the Masons
had marched out to the Cemetery, it contained a little of everything
except Assets.
Annie was the name of the Daughter.
On the Clean-up she received enough to put her through the School.
When Bob arrived at the Hospital, in a State of Conflagration, Annie
was waiting in the starched Uniform to tackle her first real Case.
For days and nights he rambled through the ghostly labyrinths of
Delirium, Annie holding him by the Hand and lifting the cool Draughts
to his parched Lips.
He mumbled and raved about the decisions of the Umpire in the game
between the Academy and the Knitting Works.
He gave Annie his entire performance of Ralph Rackstraw in "Pinafore"
for the benefit of the Library Fund, including Cues.
He scolded his Aunt Mary for doing her own Housework and told the
Colored Men how to lay the Cement Walk down through the Grape Arbor.
He promised his Father not to play Poker any more and vowed to his
Mother that she was a better Chef than the one up at Del's.
But his sub-conscious Self was so considerate of Elphye that he never
brought in her Name at all, at all.
Sometimes he would get back to the Ticker, but he was ready to leave it
any time to go fishing in the Crick with the Lads from the other side
of the Tracks.
Through the final Crisis he played tag with the Grim Reaper and just
escaped being It.
The Sun was slanting into the little white Room when he crawled feebly
back to Earth and tried to get his Bearings.
Annie was looking right at him, relieved and smiling and happy. She
had won her first game in the Big League.
He noticed that she was not slashed up the side or down the back, had
no metallic Insteps, carried her own Hair, and was in no way concealed
behind the usual pallid Veneering.
He remembered dimly that she had been with him on the Underground.
Then he recalled a previous Existence in which the Dripped Absinthe was
a Breakfast and the Cigarette a Luncheon and Elphye was trotting in her
Glads and he had a Swell Bet down on Tin Bucket Preferred. The whole
Lay-Out seemed unreal and remote and entirely disconnected with Friend
Nurse.
He inquired the Day of the Week, and when he learned it was Next Month
he started to get right up and put on his Things.
Annie quietly spread him back on the Pillow and laid down the Law
regarding Rest and Quiet.
Then he begged her to ring up McCusick & Co. and get the latest Bucket
Preferred.
He said he had plastered his last Samoelon and, not being there to
watch the Board and concentrate his wonderful Trading Instinct on every
jiggle of the Dial, there was no telling what the Bone-Heads had done
to him.
You see, he had no recollection whatever of going Short, for he had
been in a Walking Delirium at the time and crazy as a Cubist.
Annie said it was wrong to Gamble and he was not to read the Papers or
fuss with Visitors until Doc gave the word.
Suddenly he remembered that he was engaged to Elphye and he wondered if
she had forgotten.
So many things can happen in a Great City within two weeks.
He told Nurse about Elphye. Annie did not seem madly interested, but
she wrote a Note to the Sazerack Apartment Building and notified the
Seraphine that her prospective Producer was still extant and would be
willing to renew acquaintance if she could spare an hour or two from
her Dancing.
Elphye came out two days later made up as a Princess in the Christmas
Pantomime and diffusing pleasant Odors in all directions.
She sat down alongside of Annie and immediately she was shown up and
went back to the Minors.
Her Second-Reader Conversation, complicated with the phoney Boston
sound of "A" as in "Squash," did not improve her General Average.
Bob suddenly realized that in getting rid of the Bronxes and the
Nicotine and various other Toxins, he also had lost his appetite for
Elphye.
But he was Game and willing to go through on his own Proposition.
He sent Nurse for a glass of Water and then begged his Fiancee to
smuggle in a Newspaper so he could find out the name of his getting-off
Station.
Next day she brought the Market Page in her wonderful jewel-crusted Bag.
Bob took one Look and crawled under the Covers.
The Market had gone Blooey.
Bucket Preferred was down in the Subway, bleeding from a dozen Wounds.
The Whole List was on the Blinkety Fritz.
"Courage, Dearie," said Bob, taking Elphye by the Rings. "Your little
Playmate is erased from the map."
Elphye upset two Rolling Chairs and one Interne getting from the
Convalescent Department to the open Air.
Annie found the poor Bankrupt much improved as to Pulse and Temperature.
He told her the whole Story of how his Lady Fair had canned him because
he was no longer a Live One.
She held his hand and pushed back his Locks and told him that any Girl
with a Heart would stick closer than ever to her Selection when he was
under the Rollers.
Just then a Messenger from McCusick came in and showed Bob that by
going Short and standing pat he was $1,800,000 to the Desirable.
After that, Bob was known up and down the Street as The Wizard.
Annabelle, remembering how they had got to her Father, made him cut out
the Margins and put the whole Chunk into listed Securities and Real
Estate.
He wanted to stick around and parlee up to a Billion, but she raised a
most emphatic Nixey.
He was so used to taking orders from her as a Trained Nurse that he cut
out speculating and played Safe.
The whole game was punk for months after, so every one said he had been
a Wise Mug for backing away.
The Missus allows him a light one (mostly Vermouth) before Dinner each
evening and has taught him a private Signal which means that she is
ready to duck and go Home.
At present they are in Paris, where she is working to get the same
hilarious _Tout Ensemble_ formerly exhibited by Elphye, the Ex-Empress
of the White Light Reservation.
The latter went to see a Lawyer when she learned that she had been
tricked out of her Happiness.
Unfortunately for her, she had nothing on Robert, thanks to his native
shrewdness and Mr. Bell, who invented the Telephone.
She is now playing Utility Parts in a Stock Company in Pennsylvania.
The Jewels pelted at her by Bob are much admired by the Gallery.
MORAL: The City holds no Peril for those who cherish Lucky Ideals.
THE NEW FABLE OF SUSAN AND THE DAUGHTER AND THE GRAND-DAUGHTER, AND
THEN SOMETHING REALLY GRAND
Once there was a full-blown Wild Peach, registered in the Family Bible
as Susan Mahaly.
Her Pap divided his time between collecting at a Toll-Gate and
defending the Military Reputation of Andy Jackson.
The family dwelt in what was then regarded by Cambridge, Mass., as the
Twilight Zone of Semi-Culture, viz., Swigget County, Pennsylvania.
Susan wore Linsey-Woolsey from Monday to Saturday. She never had
tampered with her Venus de Milo Topography and she did not even suspect
that Women had Nerves.
When she was seventeen she had a Fore-Arm like a Member of the
Turnverein.
She knew how to Card and Weave and Dye. Also she could make Loose Soap
in a kettle out in the Open Air.
Susan never fell down on her Salt-Rising Bread. Her Apple Butter was
always A1.
It was commonly agreed that she would make some Man a good Housekeeper,
for she was never sickly and could stay on her Feet sixteen hours at a
Stretch.
Already she was beginning to look down the Pike for a regular Fellow.
In the year 1840, the Lass of seventeen who failed to get her Hooks on
some roaming specimen of the Opposite Gender was in danger of being
whispered about as an Old Maid. Celibacy was listed with Arson and
Manslaughter.
Rufus was destined to be an Early Victorian Rummy, but he could lift a
Saw-Log, and he would stand without being hitched, so Susan nailed him
the third time he came snooping around the Toll-Gate.
Rufus did not have a Window to hoist or a Fence to lean on. But there
is no Poverty in any Pocket of the Universe until Wealth arrives and
begins to get Luggy.
Susan thought she was playing in rare Luck to snare a Six-Footer who
owned a good Squirrel Rifle and could out-wrastle all Comers.
The Hills of Pennsylvania were becoming congested, with Neighbors not
more than two or three miles apart, so Rufus and his Bride decided to
hit a New Trail into the Dark Timber and grow up with the Boundless
West.
Relatives of the Young Couple staked them to a team of Pelters, a Muley
Cow, a Bird Dog of dubious Ancestry, an Axe and a Skillet, and started
them over the Divide toward the perilous Frontier, away out yender in
Illinoy.
It was a Hard Life. As they trundled slowly over the rotten Roads,
toward the Land of Promise, they had to subsist largely on Venison,
Prairie Chicken, Quail, Black Bass, Berries, and Wild Honey. They
carried their own Coffee.
Arrived at the Jumping-Off Place, they settled down among the Mink and
Musk-Rats. Rufus hewed out and jammed together a little two by twice
Cabin with the Flue running up the outside. It looked ornery enough
to be the Birthplace of almost any successful American.
The Malaria Mosquito was waiting for the Pioneers. In those good old
Chills-and-Fever days, no one ever blamed it on the Female of the
Species. Those who had the Shakes allowed that they were being jarred
by the Hand of Providence.
When the family ran low on Quinine, all he had to do was hook up and
drive fifty miles to the nearest Town, where he would trade the Furs
for Necessities such as Apple-Jack and Navy Twist, and possibly a few
Luxuries such as Tea and Salt.
On one of these memorable Trips to the Store, a Mood which combined
Sentiment with reckless Prodigality seized upon him.
He thought of the brave Woman who was back there in the lonesome Shack,
shooing the Prairie Wolves away from the Cradle, and he resolved to
reward her.
With only three Gills of Stone Fence under his Wammus, he spread his
Wild-Cat Currency on the Counter and purchased a $6 Clock, with jig-saw
ornaments, a shiny coat of Varnish, and a Bouquet of Pink Roses on the
door.
Susan burst into Tears when she saw it on the Wall, alongside of the
Turkey Wing, and vowed that she had married the Best Man in the World.
Twenty years later, Jennie, the first begotten Chick at the Log House
in the Clearing, had matured and married, and was living at the County-
Seat with Hiram, Money-Changer and Merchant.
Railroad Trains, Side-Bar Buggies, Coal-Oil Lamps, and the Civil War
had come along with a Rush and disarranged primitive Conditions. The
Frontier had retreated away over into Kansas.
In the very Township where, of late, the Beaver had toiled without
Hindrance and the Red Fox dug his hole unscared, people were now eating
Cove Oysters, and going to see "East Lynne."
Hiram was in rugged Health, having defended the flag by Proxy during
the recent outcropping of Acrimony between the devotees of Cold Bread
and the slaves of Hot Biscuit. The Substitute had been perforated
beyond repair at the Battle of Kennesaw Mountain, proving that Hiram
made no mistake in remaining behind to tend Store.
When Jennie moved in where she could hear the Trains whistle and began
to sport a Cameo Brooch, she could barely remember wearing a Slip and
having Stone Bruises.
Hiram was Near, but he would Loosen up a trifle for his own Fireside.
The fact that Jennie was his wife gave her quite a Standing with him.
He admired her for having made such a Success of her Life.
They dwelt in a two-story Frame with countless Dewdads and Thingumbobs
tacked along the Eaves and Scalloped around the Bay Windows.
The Country People who came in to see the Eighth Wonder of the World
used to stand in silent Awe, breathing through their Noses.
Out on the lawn, surrounded by Geraniums, was a Cast-Iron Deer which
seemed to be looking at the Court House in a startled Manner. It was
that kind of a Court House.
In her Front Room, the daughter of Rufus and Susan had Wonderful Wax
Flowers, sprinkled with Diamond Dust; a What-Not bearing Mineral
Specimens, Conch-Shells, and a Star-Fish, also some Hair-Cloth
Furniture, very slippery and upholstered with Sand.
After Hiram gave her the Black Silk and paid for the Crayon
Enlargements of her Parents, Jennie did not have the Face to bone him
for anything more, but she longed in secret and Hiram suspected.
Jennie was a soprano. Not a regular Soprano, but a Country-Town
Soprano, of the kind often used for augmenting the Grief in a Funeral.
Her voice came from a point about two inches above the Right Eye.
She had assisted a Quartette to do things to "Juanita," and sometimes
tossed out little Hints about wishing she could practice at Home.
Jennie was a Nice Woman but she _did_ need Practice.
Although Hiram was tighter than the Bark on a Sycamore, he liked to
have other Women envy the Mother of His Children.
When he spread himself from a Shin-Plaster, he expected a Fanfare of
Trumpets.
It took him a long time to unwind the String from the Wallet, but he
would Dig if he thought he was boosting his own Game.
By stealthy short-weighting of the Country Trade and holding out on the
Assessor, he succeeded in salting away numerous Kopecks in one corner
of the Safe.
While in Chicago to buy his Winter Stock, he bargained for two days and
finally bought a Cottage Melodeon, with the Stool thrown in.
Jennie would sit up and pump for Hours at a time, happy in the
knowledge that she had drawn the Capital Prize in the Lottery of Hymen.
In the year 1886 there was some Church Wedding at the County Seat.
Frances, daughter of Hiram and Jennie, had knocked the Town a Twister
when she came home from the Female College wearing Bangs and toting a
Tennis Racquet.
All the local Gallants, with Cocoa-Oil in their hair and Rings on their
Cravats, backed into the Shrubbery.
Hiram had bought her about $1800 worth of Hauteur at the select
Institution of Learning. All she had to do was look at a Villager
through her Nose-Specs and he would curl up like an Autumn Leaf.
A Cuss from Chicago came to see her every two weeks.
His Trousers seemed to be choking him. The Pompadour was protected by
a Derby of the Fried-Egg species. It was the kind that Joe Weber
helped to keep in Public Remembrance. But in 1886 it was de Rigeur,
au Fait, and a la mode.
Frances would load the hateful City Chap into the high Cart and exhibit
him up and down all the Residence Thoroughfares.
On nearly every Front Porch some Girl whose Father was not interested
in the First National Bank would peer out through the Morning Glories
at the Show-off and then writhe like an Angle-Worm.
The Wedding was the biggest thing that had struck the town since
Forepaugh stopped over on his way from Peoria to Decatur.
Frances was not a popular Girl, on account of being so Uppish, so those
who could not fight their way into the Church climbed up and looked
through the Windows.
The Groom wore a Swallow-Tail.
Most of those present had seen Pictures of the Dress Suit. In the
_Fireside Companion,_ the Gentleman wearing one always had Curls, and
the Wood-Engraving caught him in the act of striking a Lady in the Face
and saying "Curse you!"
The Feeling at the County-Seat was that Frances had taken a Desperate
Chance.
The caterer with Colored Help in White Gloves, the ruby Punch suspected
of containing Liquor, the Japanese Lanterns attached to the Maples, the
real Lace in the Veil, the glittering Array of Pickle-Jars, and a well-
defined Rumor that most of the imported Ushers had been Stewed, gave
the agitated Hamlet something to blat about for many and many a day.
The Bachelor of Arts grabbed off by the daughter of Jennie and the
Grand-daughter of Susan was the owner of Real Estate in the congested
Business District of a Town which came into Public Attention later on
through the efforts of Frank Chance.
His front name was Willoughby, but Frances always called him "Dear," no
matter what she happened to be thinking of at the time.
Part of State Street had been wished on to Willoughby. He was afraid
to sell, not knowing how to reinvest.
So he sat back and played safe. With growing Delight he watched the
Unearned Increment piling up on every Corner. He began to see that he
would be fairly busy all his life, jacking up Rents.
The Red-Brick Fortress to which he conducted Frances had Stone Steps in
front and a secret Entrance for lowly Tradespeople at the rear.
Willoughby and his wife had the high courage of Youth and the Financial
Support of all the Money Spenders along State Street, so they started
in on Period Decoration. Each Room in the House was supposed to stand
for a Period. Some of them stood for a great deal.
A few of the Periods looked like Exclamation Points.
The young couple disregarded the Toll-Gate Period and the Log-Cabin
Period, but they worked in every one of the Louies until the Gilt
Furniture gave out.
The delighted Caller at the House beside the Lake would pass from an
East Indian Corridor through an Early Colonial American Room into a
Japanese Boudoir and, after resting his Hat, would be escorted into
the Italian Renaissance Drawing-Room to meet the Hostess. From this
exquisite Apartment, which ate up one year's Rent of a popular Buffet
near Van Buren Street, there could be obtained a ravishing glimpse of
the Turkish Cozy Corner beyond, including the Battle-Axes and the Red
Lamp.
Frances soon began to hob-nob with the most delicatessen Circles,
including Families that dated back to the Fire of 1871.
She was not at all Dizzy, even when she looked down from the Mountain
Peak at her happy Birthplace, 15,000 feet below.
Willoughby turned out to be a satisfactory Housemate. His Voltage was
not high, but he always ate Peas with a Fork and never pulled at the
Leash when taken to a Musicale.
In front of each Ear he carried a neat Area of Human Ivy, so that he
could speak up at a Meeting of Directors. Until the year 1895, the
restricted Side-Whisker was an accepted Trade-Mark of Commercial Probity.
This facial Landscaping, the Frock Coat, and a steadfast devotion to
Toilet Soap made him suitable for Exhibition Purposes.
Frances became almost fond of him, after the Honeymoon evaporated and
their Romance ripened into Acquaintanceship.
It was a gladsome day for both when she traced the Dope back through
Swigget County, Pennsylvania, and discovered that she was an honest-to-
goodness Daughter of the American Revolution.
Willoughby could not ask a representative of good old Colonial Stock to
ride around in a stingy Coupe with a Coon planted out on the Weather-
Seat.
He changed the Terms in several Leases and was enabled to slip her a
hot Surprise on the Birthday.
When she came down the Steps for the usual bowl along the Avenue, so as
to get some Fresh Smoke, she beheld a rubber-tired Victoria, drawn by
two expensive Bang-Tails in jingly Harness and surmounted by important
Turks in overwhelming Livery.
She was so trancified with Delight that she went right over to
Willoughby and gave him a Sweet Kiss, after looking about rather
carefully for the exposed portion of the Frontispiece.
Frances did a lot of Calling within the next two weeks, and to all
those who remarked upon the Smartness of the Equipage, she declared
that the Man she had to put up with carried a Throbbing Heart even if
he was an Intellectual Midget.
In the year 1913, a slender Young Thing, all of whose Habiliments
seemed melting and dripping downward, came wearily from Stateroom B as
the Train pulled into Reno, Nevada.
She seemed quite alone, except for a couple of Maids.
After she had given Directions concerning the nine Wardrobe Trunks and
the Live Stock, she was motored to a specially reserved Cottage at the
corner of Liberty Street and Hope Avenue.
Next day she sat at the other side of a Table from a Lawyer, removing
the poisoned Javelins from her fragile Person and holding them up
before the shuddering Shyster.
She had a Tale of Woe calculated to pulp a Heart of Stone. In blocking
out the Affidavit, her sympathetic Attorney made Pencil Notes as
follows:
Her name was Ethel Louise, favorite Daughter of Willoughby and Frances,
the well-known Blue-Bloods of the Western Metropolis.
She had finished off at Miss Sniffle's exclusive School, which
overlooks the Hudson and the Common School Branches.
After she learned to enter a Ball-Room and while on her way to attack
Europe for the third time, the Viper crossed her Pathway.
She accepted him because his name was Hubert, he looked like an
Englishman, and one of his Ancestors turned the water into Chesapeake
Bay.
While some of the Wedding Guests were still in the Hospital, he began
to practice the most diabolical Cruelties.
He induced her to get on his Yacht and go cruising through the
Mediterranean when she wanted to take an Apartment in Paris.
At Monte Carlo he scolded her for borrowing 3000 Francs from a Russian
Grand Duke after she went broke at bucking the Wheel. She had met the
Duke at a Luncheon the day before and his Manners were perfect.
The Lawyer said that Herbert was a Pup, beyond all Cavil.
Cairo, Egypt, yielded up another Dark Chapter of History.
It came out in the sobbing Recital that Hubert had presented her with a
$900 prize-winning Pomeranian, directly related to the famous Fifi,
owned by the Countess Skidoogan of Bilcarty.
Later on, he seemed to feel that the Pomeranian had come between him
and Ethel. The Situation became more and more tense, and finally, one
day in Egypt, within plain sight of the majestic Pyramids, he kicked
Precious ever so hard and raised quite a Swelling.
The Legal Adviser said Death was too good for such a Fiend.
In Vienna, though, that was where he went so far that Separation became
inevitable.
Ethel had decided to take an $80,000 Pearl Necklace she had seen in a
Window. It was easily worth that much, and she felt sure she could get
it in without paying Duty. She had been very successful at bringing
things Home.
She could hardly believe her Ears when Hubert told her to forget it and
back up and come out of the Spirit World and alight on the Planet Earth.
He had been Heartless on previous Occasions, but this was the first
time he had been Mean enough to renig on a mere side-issue such as
coming across with the Loose Change.
Ethel was simply de-termined to have that Necklace, but the unfeeling
Whelp tried to kid her out of the Notion.
Then he started in to Pike. He suggested a $20,000 Tarara of Rubies
and Diamonds as a Compromise. Ethel became wise to the fact that she
had joined out with a Wad.
While she was pulling a daily Sick Headache in the hope of bringing him
to Taw, the Maharajah of Umslopagus came along and bought the Necklace.
That was when Ethel had to be taken to a Rest Cure in the Austrian
Tyrol, and she had never been the Same Woman since.
To all who had come pleading for Reconciliation, Ethel had simply hung
out the Card, "Nothing Doing."
After a Brute has jumped up and down on the Aching Heart of a Girl of
proud Lineage he can't square himself in 1,000,000 years.
So said Ethel, between the flowing Tears.
Furthermore, there had been hopeless Incompatibility. In all the time
they were together, they never had been able to agree on a Turkish
Cigarette.
The professional Home-Blaster said she had enough on Herbert to get her
four Divorces. The Decree would be a Pipe.
Ethel said she hoped so and to please push it along, as she had quite a
Waiting-List.
MORAL: Rufus had no business buying the Clock.