Once there was a Boy who had been told twice a Day ever since he could
remember that if he started to go into one of those Doggeries with
swinging Doors in front and Mirrors along the Side, a Blue Flame would
shoot out and burn him to a Cinder.
Also he had been warned that every Playing Card in the whole Deck was a
Complimentary Ticket admitting one to a Hot Griddle in the Main
Parquette of the Fiery Furnace.
And every little Paper Cigar was another Spike in the Burial Casket.
With seven or eight Guardians trailing him Day and Night to keep him
away from the Lures of the Wicked World it looked like a Pipe that he
would grow up to be the Dean of a Theological Seminary.
Across the Street lived a poor unfortunate Lad whose Father was making
the Futile Endeavor to take it away faster than the Revenue Officers
could put Stamps on it. He was the original Blotter. When they were
trying to pry him away from it, he would take a chance on anything from
Arnica to Extract of Vanilla.
According to all the Laws of Heredity the only Son was cast for the
Part of Joe Morgan.
He is now the Head of a Mail-Order House. When he sees a Corkscrew he
pulls his Hat firmly over his Ears and runs a Mile.
The Graduate of the Lecture Bureau may be found in a swagger Club any
evening with a Bourbon H. B. at his Right, a stack of Student Lamps at
his Left and Two Small Pair pressed closely against his Bosom.
MORAL: The Modern Ambition seems to be to vary the Program.