with his Head out of a Trolley Window, he recalled dimly that a large
number of long-legged Ponies came out on the Track. One of them was
the color of an Old Glove and was doing a Two-Step. There was about
twenty minutes of Fussing around at the Bend in the Track and then
they all kited away like a flight of Swallows and there was one Horse
in front and Mr. Piker had a Convulsion and frothed at the mouth.
Presently the Tonic seemed to die away and something Blew and Rinkaboo
fell down and stepped on his Lip. He came in about the time they were
blowing the Horn for the next Race.
And now Mr. Piker can take Callers up to his Room and tell them how he
stood to win $1,340.
* * * * *
MORAL: Even the Best cannot pick them every Whirl out of the Box.
* * * * *
_THE HIGH ART THAT WAS A LITTLE TOO HIGH FOR THE VULGARIAN WHO PAID
THE BILLS_
Once there was a Husband who was stuck on Plain Living and Home
Comforts. He would walk around an Angel Cake any old Time to get
action on some Farm Sausage. He was not very strong for Romaine
Salad or any Speckled Cheese left over from Year before last, but he
did a very neat vanishing Act with a Sirloin Steak and he had the
Coffee come right along in a large Cup. He refused to dally with
the Demi-Tasse. For this true American the Course Dinner was a weak
Invention of the benighted Foreigner. When he squared up to his Food
he cut out all the Trimmings.
This is the kind of Husband who peels his Coat in the Evening and gets
himself all spread out in a Rocking Chair with a fat Cushion under
him.
He loves to wear old Velvet Slippers with pink Roses worked on the
Toes and the Heels run over.
Give him about two Cigars that pull freely and a Daily Paper and he
is fixed for the Session.
Along about 10.30, if he can connect with a Triangle of Desiccated
Apple Pie and a Goblet of Milk, he is ready to sink back on the Husks,
feeling simply Immense.
Now this Husband had a Fireside that suited him nearly to Death
until the Better Half began to read these Magazines that tell how to
beautify the Home.
Her first Play was to take out all the Carpets and have the Floors
massaged until they were as slick as Glass, so that when the
Bread-Winner stepped on one of the Okra or Bokhara Rugs he usually
gave an Imitation of a Player trying to reach Second.
He told her that he did not care to live in a Rink, but what he said
cut very few Lemons with the Side-Partner. She was looking at the
half-tone Pictures of up-to-date Homes and beginning to realize that
the Wall-Paper, Steel Engravings and the Enlarged Photographs of Yap
Relatives would have to go.
[Illustration: _Artistic Living Room._]
One Day when the Provider struck the Premises he found the Workmen
putting Red Burlap on the Walls of the Sitting-Room.
"Why the Gunny-Sack?" he asked. "Can't we afford Wall-Paper?"
"Love of Art is the True Essence of the Higher Life," said the
Æsthete, and she began to read a Booklet bound in the same Paper that
the Butcher uses when he wraps up a Soup Bone.
"Come again," said the Wage Earner, who was slow at catching these
Ruskin Twisters.
"This is Art Burlap and not the kind that they use for sacking
Peanuts," explained the Disciple of Beauty. "Above the Burlap will be
a Shelf of Weathered Oak, and then above that a Frieze of Blue Jimson
Flowers. Then when we draw all of the Curtains and light one Candle in
here it will make a Swell Effect."
"I feel that we are going to be very Happy," he said, and then he
went out and sat behind the Barn, where he could smoke his Pipe and
meditate on the Uncertainties of Life.
[Illustration: _Artistic Dining-Room._]
Next Day he discovered that she had condemned his Rocking-Chair and
the old-style Centre Table on which he used to stack his Reading
Matter and keep a Plate of Apples handy.
When he entered the improved and modernized Living Room, he found
himself up against a Job Lot of Beauty and no Mistake.
All the Furniture was straight up and down. It seemed to have been
chopped out with an Axe, and was meant to hold up Members of the
Rhinoceros Family.
On the High Shelf was a Row of double-handled Shaving Mugs, crippled
Beer Steins, undersized Coal Scuttles and various Copper Kettles that
had seen Better Days.
"At last we have a Room that satisfies every Craving of my Soul," said
the Wife.
"I am more than Satisfied," observed the Treasurer. "I am delirious
with Joy. My only regret is that an All-Wise Providence did not mould
me into a different Shape so that I might sit down in some of these
Chairs. What are those Iron Dinkuses sticking out from the Wall?"
[Illustration: _Artistic Bed-Chamber._]
"Those are Florentine Lanterns," she replied; "and they are very
Roycroftie, even if they don't give any Light."
Next she started in on the Dining-Room.
Rule No. 1 for making Home more Cheerful is to put in a Shelf wherever
there is room for one. After which the Shelf is loaded down with
Etruscan Growlers and Antique Jugs.
The low-browed Husband could not tell the difference between High Art
and Junk.
The female Bradleyite covered the Walls with about 400 Plates, each
with a Blue Curly-Cue on it. They looked very Cheap to him until he
received the Bill, and then he learned that they were Old Delft and
came to $11 apiece.
In fact, after his Wife had been haunting the Second-Hand Places for
a while, he learned that any Article which happened to be old and
shopworn and cracked was the one that commanded the Top Price.
She never let up until she had made the whole House thoroughly
Artistic.
Her Women Acquaintances would come in, and she would show them the
Dark Oak Effects and the Sea-Green Frescoes and the Monastery Settee
with the Sole-Leather Bottom in it and the corroded Tea-Pot that she
had bought for $95 and the Table Spread made from Overall Material
with just one Yellow Poppy in the Middle, and they would have 37
different kinds of Duck Fits and say that it was Grand and that her
Taste was simply Faultless. After that she wouldn't care what Husband
said.
He was a fairly patient Man, and all he complained of was that when
he sat down he dislocated his Spine, while the Brass Knobs wore
black-and-blue Spots on him; and the dining-room Table should have
had a couple of Holes for him to put his Legs through; and he couldn't
find a Place in which to stretch out; and he needed a Derrick to move
one of the Chairs; and at Night when the Moonlight came into his Room
and he saw all the bummy Bean-Pots lined up on the Foot-Board and the
Instruments of Torture staring at him from every corner of the Room,
he would crawl down under the Covers and dream of his Childhood Home,
with the old-fashioned Sofas and the deep Rocking-Chairs and the big
Bureaus that were meant to hold Things and not to look at. However,
he has been unable to arrest the reaching-out after the Beautiful, for
only last Week she purchased a broken-down Clock--price $115.
* * * * *
MORAL: There is no Place like Home, and some Husbands are glad of it.
* * * * *
_THE PATIENT TOILER WHO GOT IT IN THE USUAL PLACE_
Once there was an Office Employee with a Copy-Book Education.
He believed it was his Duty to learn to Labor and to Wait.
He read Pamphlets and Magazine Articles on Success and how to make it
a Cinch. He knew that if he made no Changes and never beefed for more
Salary, but just buckled down and put in Extra Time and pulled for the
House, he would Arrive in time.
The Faithful Worker wanted to be Department Manager. The Hours were
short and the Salary large and the Work easy.
He plugged on for many Moons, keeping his Eye on that Roll-Top Desk,
for the Manager was getting into the Has-Been Division and he knew
there would be a Vacancy.
At last the House gave the old Manager the Privilege of retiring and
living on whatever he had saved.
"Ah, this is where Humble Merit gets its Reward," said the Patient
Toiler. "I can see myself counting Money."
That very Day the Main Gazooks led into the Office one of the
handsomest Tennis Players that ever worked on Long Island and
introduced him all around as the new Department Manager.
"I shall expect you to tell Archibald all about the Business," said
the Main Gazooks to the Patient Toiler. "You see he has just graduated
from Yale and he doesn't know a dum Thing about Managing anything
except a Cat-Boat, but his Father is one of our principal
Stock-Holders and he is engaged to a Young Woman whose Uncle is at the
head of the Trust."
"I had been hoping to get this Job for myself," said the Faithful
Worker, faintly.
[Illustration: _His Ambition._]
"You are so valuable as a Subordinate and have shown such an Aptitude
for Detail Work that it would be a Shame to waste you on a $5,000
Job," said the Main Gazooks. "Besides you are not Equipped. You have
not been to Yale. Your Father is not a Stock-Holder. You are not
engaged to a Trust. Get back to your High Stool and whatever Archibald
wants to know, you tell him."
* * * * *
MORAL: One who wishes to be a Figure-Head should not Overtrain.
* * * * *
_THE SUMMER VACATION THAT WAS TOO GOOD TO LAST_
Once there was a Wife who gave the Money-Getter a Vacation by going
into the Country for a Month. Dearie took her to the Train, and all
the way she kept saying that it did not seem just Right to romp away
on a Pleasure Trip and leave him Shell-Roaded.
He began to fear that she would Weaken, so he told her that while he
was slaving and humping in the City, it would give him sufficient Joy
to know that Darling was out in the Woods, listening to the Birds.
He insisted that she should stay until she was thoroughly Rested.
Of course, he did not dare to make it too Strong. He played the
Self-Sacrifice Gag and threw in a Dash of Marital Solicitude, and made
an awful Try at imitating one who has been soaked by a Great Sorrow.
As the Missus looked at him through her Tears and held his Salary-Hook
in hers, little did she suspect that he had framed up a Poker Festival
for that Night and already the Wet Goods were spread out on the Ice.
He had told her that he was going to sit up in the Library every
Evening and read Macaulay's History of England. By opening the Windows
on both sides he could get a nice Breeze from the West. Along about 10
o'clock, if he got Sleepy, he could turn in. Why not?
It was a lovely Time-Table that he had mapped out. He submitted it to
Pet before she went away and she put her O.K. on it, even though her
Heart ached for him. Breakfast at the strange Boarding-House. A day of
Toil interrupted by a small Bunch of Food at the Dairy Lunch.
Then back to the unfamiliar Faces at the Boarding-House.
Then sitting alone in the Gloaming, thinking of the Absent One.
Then an Hour or two in the Library with the jovial Macaulay.
Then to Bed in the lonesome House and Dreams of Sweetie.
[Illustration: _Calling Up the Pirate Crew._]
He gave her a Schedule which she could consult at any time, Day or
Night, and thereby find out what he was doing at that Moment. It was
just as convenient as sending a Marconi every Hour or so.
He held himself down until the Train had flirted around the Curve, for
he knew that she was watching him from the Observation Car. Then he
threw his Hat in the Air and began to do Flip-Flops.
"O, I suppose this is Miserable," he said. "I can see a very poor
Month ahead of me--yes--not. Me wearing all my Bells and taking a
Hurdle every Furlong."
He rushed in to the Telegraph Office and sent a Wire to her, so that
it would catch her at the first Station up the Road. It said not to
worry and to take a Good Rest and everything was moving along about
the same as usual. With Love and Kisses.
After which he went over to the Brewery to see if they would make a
Reduction on Wholesale Orders.
Hubby went up street with his Straw dipped down in Front, the same as
the College Rakes wear them, and his Coat was thrown wide open to show
the dizzy Pleats. His Cuban Blood was all het up and he told himself
that he was 19 years old and never had a Home.
Oh, but he was Nifty. He was out of the Corral and into the Red Clover
and nix any Halter and Box Stall for him. At least not for a Month.
It happened that he had the usual number of disreputable Friends.
They were All Right, but he did not dare to have them up to the House,
because Angel-Face had investigated them and returned True Bills.
They were a little too Gamey for Presbyterian Circles, but they fitted
right in at any Function where every man takes off his Coat.
Husband began to use the Telephone, and in the course of an Hour he
had organized a Pirate Crew that would go as far as you like at any
Game from Pitch-and-Toss to Manslaughter.
For when a decent Married Man does start out to find something
different from the calm Joys of connubing in a Side Street, he is the
Village Limit.
Husband had the whole Shop to himself. He employed a Senegambian who
was a good two-handed Worker with the Corkscrew. Then he had $40 worth
of Dutch Lunch sent in from the Rathskeller and arranged the Stacks of
Reds, Whites, and Blues. He told himself that the only True Enjoyment
was found in Bachelor's Hall.
His Hickey Acquaintances came in, showing more or less Stage Fright,
as they were not accustomed to seeing Rugs and Tidies. They told him
that he had a Swell Joint. After they had been to the Tea a couple
of times they began to peel and one of them started some rowdy Work
on the Piano. Another backed into a $30 Statuette and put it out of
Business and then offered to pay for it, but the Host said it cost
only 98 cents at a Bargain Sale.
[Illustration: _Instead of Macaulay._]
At 10 P.M. the Wife, who was in Upper Seven, referred to her
Time-Table and saw Papa sitting by the Student's Lamp, reading
Macaulay. She had no way of knowing that Papa had just been strung for
a Month's Rent in a Progressive Jack Pot.
In the Morning when Papa arose and looked at the cold Welsh Rabbits
and saw the Cigar Ashes all over the Place and when he had a Taste as
if he were taking care of a Lap-Robe, the glad Bohemian Existence did
not look as Good to him as it had when lighted up the Night before.
Especially as he had got the Zoop for some 80 Buckerines.
Still, there is no one case of Remorse that is going to head off a Man
who wants to be rejuvenated. He pulled himself together on the Second
Day and resumed the Merry Clip and there was nothing doing in the
Macaulay Line. Home did not get him until the Lights had winked out
in the other Places. He would not leave the Stag Club or the German
Garden, until they began putting the Chairs on the Tables.
For the first two Weeks it was immense. In time, however, it struck
him that there was a certain Monotony in spending one's Money on the
Night Owls and showing up with the Milkman. The Poker Players were
into him and he began to suspect that he needed a Guardian.
Like every other Man who sends his Wife to a Summer Place, he ended
his Hurrah by making a few Resolutions and begging her to come Home.
And she will always believe that he did the Macaulay Act every Evening
while she was away. Which is just as well.
* * * * *
MORAL: In order to put a true Value on Civilization, one should pace a
few Heats with the Indians now and then.
* * * * *
_HOW AN HUMBLE BEGINNER MOVED FROM ONE PINNACLE TO ANOTHER AND PLAYED
THE ENTIRE CIRCUIT_
A team of Proud Parents had a son named James Henry Guff. On the Day
of his Birth the Wind changed and blew in another Direction, Apples
fell off the Trees, Chickens went to Roost at Mid-Day. All Nature
seemed to have been given a Jolt by the Portentous Event. For James
Henry Guff was born to know all the Brands of Human Greatness. Destiny
had put a Green Tag on him and nothing could stop him.
When he was only 18 years of age, he was elected Captain of a
Volunteer Fire Department, which was a valuable Organization, only
when there was a Fire no one could find the Key to the House in which
they kept the Hand-Pump. But the Papers began to speak of him as
Captain Guff. His Intimates called him Cap. After the Hose Company
disbanded, his Title clung to him and it was generally believed that
he had been with Grant at Appomattox.
Not satisfied with a resounding Title, for which those in the Regular
Army have to struggle for Years, Captain Guff began to give Lessons
on the Flute at 50 cents an Hour, and the first thing he knew he was a
real Professor, just the same as if he had gone up in a Balloon or had
some trained Horses. Now over at Harvard, where they grow the English
Accent, a Student must grind through a long Course, and a Fellowship
and an Instructorship before he blossoms into a simon-pure Professor.
Which only goes to show that the Real Boy can gain by one stroke of
Genius the Renown for which the ordinary Skates must go forth and
Rustle.
James Henry Guff at the age of 30 was both a Captain and a Professor,
but his insatiable Ambition spurred him to go out and gather other
Laurels. So he ran for Justice of the Peace, and was elected the third
time he ran, because the other Candidate pulled out. As Magistrate he
became custodian of a Law-Book, a Checker-Board, and a stack of Blank
Affidavits. Once every three Months or so somebody would levy on a
Cow or threaten to Assault, and then the Judge would get a chance to
operate his Graft. But he didn't care so much about the Income, so
long as he could be addressed as Judge. He allowed his Hair to grow
into a long, graceful Cow-Lick that kept falling into his Eyes, and he
looked at the Sidewalk meditatively as he went over to the Grocery to
get his Fine-Cut. Sometimes, when he was far enough from Home, those
who met him and heard him called Judge thought that he was on the
Supreme Bench.
In the course of Time he began to crave a Political Job, so he
began to stump around in the Interests of the Machine. He drove out
to District School-Houses with the American Eagle seated on the
Dash-Board of his Buggy, and when he got on the Platform he waved Old
Glory until both Arms gave out. All of which went to prove that the
Machine should be kept in Power. After he had been spellbinding for
a couple of Seasons a Job Printer conferred upon him the Title of
Honorable. Every time there was a Jim-Crow Speaking, then the Hon.
James Henry Guff showed up with his Voice in a Shawl-Strap and also a
fine Assortment of Platitudes. When the Congressman wrote to him and
asked him to get the Swazey County Delegates into Line, he always
addressed his letter to the Hon. James Henry Guff and in the Course of
Time Guff began to believe.
[Illustration: _Hon. James Henry Guff._]
But a prouder Distinction awaited him. In view of the fact that he had
plugged for the Regular Organization and delivered the Goods at the
State Convention, he was made a Colonel on the Governor's Staff. It is
the Duty of a Colonel on the Governor's Staff to ride in a Pullman Car
and take a Ball every time he is touched on the Back. Colonel Guff was
a Dream when he got into his $275 Uniform with the Gold Braid rigged
all over the Front. He wore a Chapeau similar to the one worn by
Napoleon at Austerlitz, but he had on top of it seven Tail-Feathers of
the Loo-Loo Bird, which rather laid over anything that Napoleon ever
wore. And when Colonel James Henry Guff in his magnificent Regalia
and smoking a ten-cent Cigar, leaned back in an Open Carriage drawn
by White Horses and allowed the People to gaze at him, the Grandeur of
the Spectacle made one forget the real Horrors of War.
Many of the ardent Admirers of Prof. Guff, and Capt. Guff, and Judge
Guff, and Col. Guff believed that he had climbed to the Summit of
Greatness when he appeared in his $42 Plume. Not so. One Year the
State Militia was to have an Encampment and the Governor gave Col.
James Henry Guff the Job of buying all the Beans, Fresh Beef, and
other Supplies, because there promised to be a slight rake-off.
Officially he was known as the Commissary-General.
Thus it came about that after Years of Endeavor, James Henry Guff,
who left the Post a poor and unknown Boy, went under the Wire a real
General.
When his Daughters went away to Boarding School and were introduced as
the Offspring of Gen. James H. Guff they assumed a Social Leadership.
Gen. Guff led the Grand March at a great many Military Balls. At
a Banquet costing $8 per Plate he sat at the Right of the Chairman
wearing Medals which had been presented to him by the 4th Ward
Marching Club. In his Address he always defended the Soldier against
unwarranted Attacks and protested against hauling down the Flag at any
Time or Place.
If the Government adopted a new Machine Gun, all the Reporters went
over and interviewed Gen. James Henry Guff about it. He wrote a
Magazine Article on the Mistakes of the British in South Africa and
likewise got rid of a few ponderous Opinions on our Policy in the
Philippines.
When he died, the Funeral Procession was two miles long. The Family
had to erect two Marble Shafts so as to find Room for all of his
Titles.
* * * * *
MORAL: True Democracy scorns a Title unless it has a real
Significance, with the Reverse English.
* * * * *
_THE MANEUVERS OF JOEL AND THE DISAPPOINTED ORPHAN ASYLUM_
An old Residenter, who owned a Section of Improved Land, and some Town
Property besides, was getting too Feeble to go out and roast the Hired
Hands, so he turned the Job over to his Son. This Son was named Joel.
He was foolish, the same as a Fox. Any one who got ahead of Joel had
to leave a 4:30 Call and start on a Lope. When it came to Skin Games
he was the original High-Binder.
Joel took the Old Gentleman aside one Day and said to him: "Father,
you are not long for this World, and to save Lawyer Fees and avoid a
tie-up in the Probate Court, I think you ought to cut up your Estate
your own self, and then you will know it is done Right."
"How had I better divide it?" asked the Old Gentleman.
"You can put the whole Shooting-Match in my Name," suggested Joel.
"That will save a lot of Writing. Then if any other Relatives need
anything, they can come to me and try to Borrow it."
Joel sent for a cut-rate Shyster, who brought a bundle of Papers tied
with Green Braid, and assured the Old Gentleman that the Proceeding
was a Mere Formality. When a Legal Wolf wants to work the Do-Do on a
Soft Thing, he always springs that Gag about a Mere Formality.
Joel and the Shell-Worker moved the Old Gentleman up to a Table in the
Front Room and put a Cushion under him and slipped a Pen into his Hand
and showed him where to Sign.
After he got through filling the Blank Spaces with his John Hancock,
he didn't have a Window to hoist or a Fence to lean on. He was simply
sponging on Joel.
This went on for about a Month, and then Joel began to Fret.
[Illustration: _Over the Hills._]
"I don't think I am getting a Square Deal," said Joel. "Here is an
Ancient Party without any Assets, who lives with me Week in and Week
out and doesn't pay any Board. He is getting too Old and Wabbly to
do Odd Jobs around the Place, and it looks to me like an awful
Imposition."
So he went to the Old Gentleman and said: "Father, I know the Children
must annoy you a good deal; they make so much Noise when they play
House. Sometimes we want to use the Piano after it is your Bed-Time,
and of course that breaks your Rest, so I have been thinking that
you would be a lot better off in some Institution where they make a
Specialty of looking after Has-Beens. I have discovered a nice, quiet
Place. You, will live in a large Brick Building, with a lovely Cupola
on top. There is a very pretty Lawn, with Flower-Beds, and also an
ornamental Iron Fence, so that the Dogs cannot break in and bite you.
You will be given a nice Suit of Clothes, the same as all the others
are wearing, and if you oversleep yourself in the Morning, a Man will
come around and call you."
"In other Words, me to the Poor-House," said the Old Residenter.
"You need not call it that, unless you want to," said Joel. "If you
choose, you may speak of it as the Home for Aged Persons who got
Foolish with their Fountain Pens."
So Joel put his Father into the Spring Wagon and hauled him over the
Hills to the Charity Pavilion, where all the Old Gentleman had to do
was to sit around in the Sun looking at the Pictures in last year's
Illustrated Papers and telling what a Chump he had been.
But sometimes a Man is not all in, simply because he looks to be
wrinkled and doddering. Joel's Father had a Few Thinks coming to
him. Although he had been double-crossed and put through the Ropes,
he still had a Punch left. He sent for a Lawyer who was even more
Crafty than the one employed by Joel and he said to him: "There is a
Loop-Hole in every Written Instrument, if one only knows how to find
it. I want you to set aside that fool Deed."
Next day the Lawyer came for him in a double-seated Carriage and said,
"They forgot to put on a Revenue Stamp and so the Transfer is off."
"And do I get all of my Property back again?" asked the Old
Residenter.
"You get half and I get half," was the Reply of the Lawyer.