Casey, a section boss on the Great Northern railway, in making his report
to the superintendent, used considerable profanity, so the superintendent
said: “Casey, I have lady stenographers here and if you must use that
profanity, after this you must write your own reports.” “A train from
Duluth came lickety skoot and passed me hand car by. Some son of a gun
left open a switch and it piled them ten cars high.”
* * * * *
Georges Carpenter lost a battle last July, but he won a greater prize
than the golden purse and the coveted belt offered at Jersey City. The
handsome Frenchman showed America the smile of Napoleon; the stoical
smile of defeat.
As one of the multitude witnessing the brief clash of France and America
at Boyle’s Thirty Acres, permit me to remark that Carpentier =_did not_=
live up to his reputation as great pugilistic champion, but he more than
met his reputation as a great red-blooded gentleman.
The American won, but the applause usually due the winner was lost in the
outburst of surprise of the multitude. Carpentier, instead of hanging his
head at the defeat of his hopes and aspirations for the title, hid his
sorrow behind a great big boyish smile. He wore that smile through the
blood-stained rounds, and it radiated as the gong clanged.
The soul of fighting France was behind that smile; the same as the smile
of Napoleon as he handed over his army to Wellington at Waterloo, and
the likeness of Joffre at the first battle of the Marne. It puzzled
his primitive opponent. Dempsey was bewildered—his face revealed his
knowledge that behind that smile was a superior intellectual being.
* * * * *
=_What good is alimony on a cold night?_=
* * * * *
Many who “kiss and make up” don’t like the taste of the “make-up.”
_Doug’s Peacock Walk_