want it in the Hand. Whatever I own from this time on, I carry right
in my Clothes, and any Relative who separates me from it will have to
set his Request to Music." Then he went to a Physician.
"Doc," he says, "they are counting nine on me, but I figure that
before I cash in, I have time to spend all that I have. Look me over
and tell me how long I would last on a Waldorf diet. I want to gauge
my Expenses so as to leave nothing behind for Joel except a Ha-Ha
Message and a few Heirlooms."
"If you want to euchre your Family, why don't you leave it to an
Orphan Asylum?" suggested the Lawyer.
[Illustration: _Second Time on Earth._]
"Nix the Orphan Asylum," said the Old Residenter. "They would bring
a million witnesses to prove that I had been out of my Head for 20
years, and I wouldn't be there to contradict them. I learn that by
a singular Coincidence, all the Old People who leave their Money to
Hospitals and the like are Mentally Irresponsible. In order to prove
that I am in my right Senses, I will Blow mine."
So he went to Palm Beach and other Winter Resorts, at which they
charge by the Minute, and wherever he went he gave a faithful
Imitation of the Cowboy's first Night in Town.
He bought himself a hot Raglan with a Surcingle around it, and a very
doggy line of Cravats, and when he went into the Dining-Room he picked
out a Table which commanded a View of the Door at which the Girls came
in.
All this time Joel was worried. It seemed a Sin and a Shame for an Old
Man to go around spending his own Money.
The Residenter had so much Fun during his Second Time on Earth that
he decided to make it a sure-enough Renaissance, so he married a
Type-Writer 19 years old, that he met in a Hotel Lobby, and then Joel
did go up in the Air.
When she began to pick out Snake Rings, and Diamond Wish-Bones, the
Old Gentleman saw that there was no longer any Hope for Joel.
* * * * *
MORAL: When buncoing a Relative always be sure that the Knock-Out
Drops are Regulation Strength.
* * * * *
_TWO YOUNG PEOPLE, TWO PHOTOGRAPHERS AND THE CORRESPONDENCE SCHOOL OF
WOOING_
Once there was a lovely Two-Stepper who went to a Swell Hop and there
met a Corkerina who had come to visit a School Friend.
He gavotted a few Lines with the Lily. They found it very easy to
catch Step together and he did an expert Job of Piloting during the
Waltz so as not to get her mussed up, and the consequence was that he
made a Grand Impression.
Whenever a Debutter goes away to visit a School Friend, she always
meets some Local Adonis who looks to her to be about 60 per cent.
better than the stock of Johnnies in her own Burg. And after a Nice
Girl has had a long and prosperous Run on the Home Circuit and then
begins to curl up on the Edges and show signs of Frost, she will find
it a very wise Shift to try new Territory and the Chances are that she
will make a Ten-Strike.
[Illustration: _The Two-Stepper._]
To prove that this is no Idle Jest, it can be demonstrated that the
marrying Girl usually goes on the Road a while before she closes a
Contract.
The Two-Stepper could not forget the Girl from Another Town. She
pulled out next Day but he looked up the Address and sent her the
Dance Programme that he had found in his Overcoat Pocket. She wrote
back that it was Awfully Sweet of him to remember poor little Me and
then she asked one or two Questions. That gave him a Hunch, so he
bought a new kind of Writing Paper, said to be the Latest Agony, and
he wrote a nice Long Letter in which he told her that she was very
easy to look at, and that when it came to picking them up and setting
them down in the Slow and Dreamy, she made all the other Girls of his
Acquaintance look like a Set of Cripples.
She returned the Serve with one of these chummy Epistles, written on
all sides of the Paper, with the P.S. crawling up one Margin like a
Pea-Vine. She chucked in a few mushy Extracts from the Oatmeal School
of Thought and asked him the Name of his Favorite Poet.
Her Pace was a trifle Swift for Harry J., who had derived his
Education from the Sporting Section of the Daily Papers, but he bought
a Lover's Guide and a Dictionary and decided to stay in.
The size of it was that little Harry had been Harpooned all the way
through. He was the original Sweetheart à la Brochette. He carried
with him, Night and Day, a Vision of Her in the $200 Rig that she had
flashed on the Night of the Party. It never occurred to him that she
could wear any other Costume. He would close his Eyes and try to hear
once again the dulcet and mellifluous Tones of that Voice which, to
him, sounded as Good as an Æolian Harp moved by gentle Zephyrs within
a Bower of Orchids costing $7 each.
So they exchanged Photos.
Next to the Miniature painted on Ivory, the Modern Photo is the prize
Bunk of the Universe.
A successful Photographer, who has learned the Tricks and made a
slight Study of Human Nature, can take a Grass Widow of 48, who is
troubled with Wild Hairs and other Excess Ornaments, and by tampering
with the Negative, he can make her out to look something like Ethel
Barrymore. Then she can send the Picture to her Relations who live a
long way off and they will never know the Difference.
The Girl sent Harry a High Art Panel of herself, in which she was
looking at something in a Tree, and when he gazed at it, he had a
Palpitation and said, "This is better than I thought it was."
He told himself that it would be a Pleasure and a Privilege to walk
up to something like that the 1st of every Month and hand it the
Envelope.
He got a clean Shave and put on his Other Clothes and went and had
himself Taken by an Artist who charged $8 a Dozen--$4 for the Pictures
and $4 to square his Conscience.
[Illustration: _The Artist._]
This Specialist could take any Set of Misfit Features and rearrange
them into a Work of Art. He put Harry in front of the Bull's-Eye
and scrooged him around so as to blanket the White Wings as much as
possible and then he told him to think of Money and look Pleasant.
When the Pictures were delivered, Harry realized for the first time
that he was a Beautiful Creature. He sent one to the Girl and wrote
that it was a bum Likeness and did not do him Justice, and so on.
In acknowledging Receipt, she cut out the "Dear Mister" and came right
at him with "Dear Friend," which gave him such a Stroke of Joy that he
did very little Work that Day.
Harry did not have Gumption enough to evolve any deep System for
landing a Tid-Bit, but he had accidentally hit upon the Cinch Method.
So long as Courtship consists of sending idealized Cabinets and
exchanging Nice Long Letters, there is but little chance of making
Miscues. He never drops in of an Afternoon to find her in a Blue
Wrapper and drying her Hair and she never catches him smelling of
Cigarettes.
When it comes down to close Work in a Parlor, there is always the Risk
of having Herbert Buttinsky on hand to make his Party Call. He who
tells his Love by U.S. Mail never hears anything about the Third
Party. He lives in the sweet Delusion that he has bought up the whole
House.
Harry's Letters to the Girl and the Girl's Letters to Harry became
more and more on that Order, until at last they began to burn holes in
the Mail Bags.
After comparing her Picture with all the Parlor Favorites that he
met on his Social Rounds, he realized that she outclassed all other
Representatives of her sex.
In her cosy Flat, far away, she had him propped up on the Piano in a
Silver-Gilt Frame and featured to beat the Cars. Any one who dropped
in to see her was made to understand that he was merely an Understudy,
who was being used as a Time-Killer.
She used to write to Harry and tell him about her Callers and what
Chumps they were, and then let him draw his own Conclusions as to who
was the real white-haired Papa.
Finally Harry took an Overdose of Nerve Food and asked her right out,
would she? The answer came back by Wire and the same Day he sent a
sealed Express Package containing the Ring.
After which they began to lay Plans to have a Wedding and become
better acquainted.
To be continued in our Next.
* * * * *
MORAL: Absence makes the Heart grow foolish.
* * * * *
_THE MARRIED COUPLE THAT WENT TO HOUSEKEEPING AND BEGAN TO FIND OUT
THINGS_
Once there was a Happy Pair, each of whom got stuck on the Photograph
of the other and thereupon a Marriage was arranged by Mail.
Shortly after taking the Life Risk, they started in to get acquainted.
Up to the time that they moved into the Arcadian Flats and began to
take Orders from the Janitor, he never had seen little Sunshine except
in her Evening Frock.
He had a sort of sneaking Suspicion that she arose every Morning
already attired in a Paris Gown and all the Diamonds.
And she supposed that he went to the Office every Day in his regular
John Drew effect with the Folding Hat.
After she began to see Hubby around the Flat in his Other Clothes the
Horrible Truth dawned upon her that he was not such a Hot Swell as he
had looked to be in the Bunko Photograph.
Sometimes, on Rainy Sundays, he would cut out the Morning Service and
decide not to Shave, and then when she got a good long Look at him,
she would begin to doubt her own Judgment.
And so far as that is concerned, there were Mornings, after they had
been out Late to a Welsh Rabbit Party, when she was a little Lumpy, if
any one should ask.
Love's Young Dream was handed several goshawful Whacks about the Time
that they started in to get a Line on each other.
For instance, the first Morning at Breakfast it came out that her
Idea of a Dainty Snack with which to usher in the Day was a Lettuce
Sandwich, a Couple of Olives and a Child's Cup full of Cocoa, while
he wanted $35 worth of Ham and Eggs, a stack of Griddle Cakes and a
Tureen of Coffee.
She was a case of Ambrosia and Nectar and he was plain old Ham and
Spinach.
It used to give her Hysterics to see him bark at an Ear of Green Corn,
at the same time making a Sound like a Dredge.
[Illustration: _Inhaling It._]
For Dinner she liked a little Consommé en Tasse and then a Nice Salad,
while he insisted on a Steak the size of a Door Mat and German Fried
to come along.
They did not Mocha and Java at all on their Reading Matter. She liked
Henry James and Walter Pater and he preferred Horse Papers and the
Comic Supplement. Sometimes when she would wander off into the Realms
of Poesy he would follow her as far as he could, and then sit down and
wait for her to get through rambling and come back.
If they took in a Show she was always plugging for Mrs. Fiske or
Duse, while he claimed that Rogers Brothers were better than Booth and
Barrett had been in their Prime.
She could weep over a Tosti Serenade, and he would walk a Mile at any
time to see a good Buck Dance.
When they got around to fixing up Invitation Lists, there was more or
less Geeing and Hawing.
All of his Friends belonged to the Hitemup Division. Their only
Conception of a Happy Evening was to put the Buck in the Centre of the
Table, break a fresh Pack and go out for Blood.
Wifey found her most delirious Joy in putting passionate Shades on
all the Lamps, and sitting there in the Crimson Glow to discuss
Maeterlinck and Maarten Maartens and a few others that were New Ones
on the he-end of the Sketch.
When they had an Evening At Home up in the Flat, it was usually a
two-ring Affair. She would have the Cerebellums in the Front Room
looking at the New Books and eating Peppermint Wafers, while he and
the other Comanches would be out in the Dining-Room trying to make
their House Rent and tossing off that which made Scotland famous.
Sometimes it would take half the Night to get the Smoke out of the
House.
Although she feared that she had turned up the wrong Street while
searching for her Affinity, the Partnership Arrangement had to stand.
They came to the Conclusion that Married Life is a Series of
Compromises. If he did well while sitting in with some of his Friends,
he would divide up with her and she would take the Money and buy Art
Pastels.
He would spot the Afternoons on which the Ethical Researchers were due
at his Premises and he would go to a Dutch Restaurant.
She permitted him to have a Room and call it his Den, so that he and
his Friends could do the Escape in case somebody in the Parlor started
a Reading.
He put up the Coin to enable her to attend State Conventions, and when
she was elected Recording Secretary of the Society for trying to find
out what Browning was up to, he took her Picture around to all the
Newspapers and told every one that he had a little Woman up at the
House who was as Keen as a Hawk, as Swift as an Eagle, and Sharper
than Chained Lightning.
[Illustration: _The Comanches._]
He fumbled a great many of her In-Shoots, but that did not prevent him
from admiring her Delivery.
Finally they arranged their separate Schedules so that they did
not see much of each other and they began to get along all right.
Occasionally they had a slight Difference, but they could always patch
it up. For instance, she selected Aubrey De Courcey as a Name for the
First Born, while he held out for Bill, so they had to compromise on
Aubrey De Courcey.
Aubrey is now ten years of age. Mother is teaching him to Crochet and
Father is showing him how to Draw without tipping off his Hand, while
all the Friends are sitting around, waiting to see Aubrey's Finish.
* * * * *
MORAL: The Two of a Kind is not always the Strongest Combination.
* * * * *
_THE SAMARITAN WHO GOT PARALYSIS OF THE HELPING HAND_
Once there was a moving Target who was strong on the Brotherhood of
Man. He ran a little Sunshine Factory all of his own. When it came to
scattering Seeds of Kindness, the Farm Drill was a Poor Second.
Every time he started down Town he would have to zigzag so as to cover
both sides of the Street and glad-hand all of his Acquaintances.
From time to time he joined Fraternal Organizations and took
blistering Oaths that he would always love his Fellow-Man and stand
for any Touch within Reason. Consequently a good many People found it
cheaper to send for him than to hire a Professional Nurse. He would
travel Miles in order to have the Pleasure of sitting up with a
Corpse. And he was one of the handiest Pall-Bearers in the Business.
Any one who happened to be nursing a Hard-Luck Story would hunt
up sympathetic Jasper and give him the Grip and then weep on his
Shoulder. Usually he promised to do what he could to square Matters,
even though he had to cut in where he wasn't wanted. In flying around,
trying to reinstate No-Goods who had lost their Jobs and secure
Salaried Positions for Nice Fellows who were willing to do anything
except Work, he got many a Jolt, but he was not discouraged.
One of his regular Assignments was to arbitrate a Domestic Scrap,
merely out of the Goodness of his Heart.
In this way he managed to re-unite quite a number of Couples who were
afterward sorry that they had been reuned, and what they said about
him would get the Blue Pencil if inserted at this Point.
When a kind-hearted Herring starts out to be a Relief Bureau and First
Aid to the Injured and a portable Home for the Friendless, nobody
tries to take the Job away from him. His Acquaintances do what they
can to boost his Game.
[Illustration: _A Touch._]
Therefore when any one in that Community sought out a Busy Man of
Affairs and began to unwrap his Tale of Woe and offer to exhibit his
wounds, the B.M. of A. would say, "Here, I'll give you a Letter of
Introduction to my old friend Jasper. He is a Samaritan from away
back."
It came about that Jasper's Outer Office was frequently coagulated
with a Choice Assortment of Pan-Handlers, and all the short-winded
Brothers who want to hitch on to somebody's else Pull, as they say in
Boston.
At times Jasper would become weary of having Folks come along and
turn their Private Griefs over to him, but he did not want to become
a Cynic and lose his Faith in Human Nature. He was frequently Stung,
but still he could not resist any Appeal that was backed up by a few
Weeps.
In the Course of Time he came into quite a Bundle of Money, and then
all the Bread that he had cast on the Waters came back to him, a
Bakery at a time. Those whom he had succored came around to Sucker
him.
[Illustration: _The Promoter._]
A Promoter whose Schemes he had guaranteed, because the Man's Children
needed Shoes, now had a Chance to show his Gratitude. He let Jasper
in on the Ground Floor of a Company organized to manufacture an
Automobile that could be turned out of the Shop for $35 and would run
90 Miles on a pint of Gasoline.
Gentlemen who were getting along without Overcoats came in to see him
about Mining Stock that was sure to touch Par by January 1st. The only
Reason they came to him first, instead of tackling John W. Gates, was
that he had always been a True Friend and they wanted to put him next
to a Good Thing.
After one or two of these Gift Enterprises had been slipped to him, he
began to back water and be a trifle Sore. Yet he found it very Hard to
be discourteous to one who came in and did the Brother Act. Besides,
the Bunk who has the Joint Note already made out and ready to be
signed, usually has a Talk calculated to make a Heart of Stone mellow
to the Consistency of a Baked Apple.
What really did more than any other one Thing to cure him of his
Innate Goodness was an Experience with a Sweet Girl who was being
courted by a Hound quite unworthy of her.
The unselfish Benefactor who tries to sidetrack Weddings that are sure
to turn out unhappily is always a Candidate for the Hospital, with a
Long Shot at the Morgue.
The Sweet Girl in Question was the daughter of an Old Friend, for
whose Funeral Expenses he had been landed. She was a Confiding Thing,
and did not know that the Bachelor who had started in to Rush her
seven nights a Week was a Rounder and a Poker-Player and somewhat of a
Lush.
Every one who knew the Sweet Girl said it was too Bad and that some
one ought to go to her and warn her. After the Old Ladies and the
Elders had talked the Matter over on the side, it was decided that
Jasper was It. He was known to be kind and disinterested and was
accustomed to dealing out Good Advice. Anything that he said would go
a long Way to head off the Deal.
Accordingly he did a Fatherly Talk to the Daughter of his Old Friend,
giving her a Straight Line on the Conduct of the High-Roller who was
trying to warm up to her.
She thanked him right from the Bottom of her heart. Then she sent a
Messenger Boy to hunt up the High-Roller, because she wanted to know
if it was all True or merely a Cruel Slander.
When she sprung his Record on him he leaned right over against her
and cried and said that no matter what he had been, she was the one to
make him a Good Man. Then she stroked his Hair and begged Forgiveness
and he asked her who had been Knocking and she gave the whole Snap
away and begged him not to do anything Desperate. He said that
whatever he did, he would do out of Love for her.
After which he went home to oil up his Pocket Hardware.
[Illustration: _Fatherly Advice._]
Next Morning the Man who wanted to help Everybody did a Flying Leap
down the Back Stairway of his Office. Just as he ducked a Bullet and
cut into the Alley back of the Post-Office, it occurred to him that
the True Friend Gag had its Drawbacks.
He escaped with his Life, but there was always more or less Dark Talk
of his being mixed up in a Woman Case.
He is now what is known in Obituary Notices as a Practical
Philanthropist. That is, he refers all Hard-Luck Tales to a Society
which was never known to give up. The Office Boy has Instructions to
admit only those who are listed in Bradstreet. And, of course, he is
never called in to smooth out Family Fights because of the Blot on his
Character.
* * * * *
MORAL: TO be a successful Benefactor, wait and put the whole Lump Sum
into Libraries.
* * * * *
_THE EFFORT TO CONVERT THE WORK HORSE INTO A HIGH-STEPPER_
Once there was a plain, unvarnished Yank who made his Pile in a Scrub
Town situated midday between the Oats Belt and the Tall Timber. He was
a large and sandy Mortal with a steel-trap Jaw and a cold glittering
Eye. He made his first Stack a Dollar at a Time on straight Deals, but
after a while he learned a few Things. He organized Stock Companies
and then crawled out after hooking up with the Velvet. Every one
called him Mister and treated him with Politeness, but, just the same,
when he walked into an Office Building they all wondered what he had
come after and there was more or less locking of Safes. It is only
fair to remark, on the Side, that he wouldn't take anything which was
securely spiked down, and the Grand Jury never bothered him, because
he worked under a Contract.
The Financier was the high Centre Pole of a Bank and a Department
Store and several Factories that gave Young People a Start in the
World at something like $2.75 per Week.
He was accustomed to having all the Subordinates stand on one Foot
and tremble whenever he showed up. In fact, he was a very hefty
Proposition all through the Business District. But when he struck the
Street leading to his House he began to reef his Sails and lower all
of his Flags.
In his own Domicile he did not even play Second Fiddle. He simply
trailed along at the fag end of the Parade and carried the Music.
The Piercing Eye and the Peremptory Manner that caused all the
Book-keepers to fall off from their High Perches and prostrate
themselves had no visible effect on Laura and the Girls. Popsy was a
High Guy at the Directors' Meeting, but a mighty cheap Soufflé at his
own Fireside. Any time that his Plans did not coincide with those of
the Feminine Bunch, they passed him a backhanded Veto that would cause
him to lie quiet for Days at a time.
[Illustration: _Scrub Town._]
The Financier loved the boundless West, where the Sack Coat abounds
and the Cuss-Word is a common Heritage. Domestic Cigars were good
enough for him, and he figured that one good reliable Hired Girl
who knew how to cook Steak was all the Help that was needed in any
House. But Mother had seen Fifth Avenue in a Dream, and the Girls had
attended a Boarding School at which nearly every one knew some one who
was Prominent Socially. They had done a lot of Hard Work at the Piano
and taken a side-hold on the French Language and it seemed to them
that they were wasting their Time in loitering on the Outskirts of
Civilization when they might be up at Headquarters cutting more or
less of a Gash. All the Young Men in this Reub Town wore Derbies
with their Evening Clothes and came to Dances with their White Gloves
smelling of Gasoline, in addition to which they lacked Repose. If they
had stopped to cultivate Repose, most of them would have landed in the
Villa set aside for Paupers.
When Laura and the Girls first advocated pulling up Stakes and doing
a tall Hike to the East, the Producer emitted a Roar that would have
frightened any one except Laura and the Girls. They closed in on him
from three Directions and beat down his Defence. When they got through
with the living Meal Ticket he was as meek as an English Servant and
ready to take orders from any one.
So the Caravansary moved away toward the Rising Sun. At Wilkesbarre,
Pennsylvania, the Heavens opened and a Great Light struck down upon
them, transforming all except the one who happened to carry the Letter
of Credit. Laura and the Girls suddenly forgot that there was any Land
west of Pittsburg, and they dropped their R's and got the Kangaroo
Walk and began to order their Food in Foreign Languages. After that,
all Father had to do was to follow along and look Pleasant and dig
every few Minutes.
The Outfit stopped at the Waldorf three days so as to obtain a
Residence, and after that they Registered as being from New York. Then
they threw Papa on a Boat and took him to the Other Side, the Place
where Americans are so Popular, if you don't care what you say. By
paying off the Mortgage they obtained a Suite at a Hotel patronized by
the Nobility and Gentry and supported by People from Iowa. After which
they began to present Letters of Introduction and try to butt in.
Laura and the Girls felt that if only they could eat a Meal once or
twice in the gloomy Presence of those who had Handles to their Names,
they would be ready to fall back and die Happy. They had some Trouble
about getting into the Tall Game on account of their Money. In the
States the general Run of People worship the Almighty Dollar, but in
England they hate the Sight of it.