My soul is agreeable tonight!
Am I? It seems to be I am reclining
Among the Irish-flowers of dear Japan,
Such fragral!
Birds is songing from memory,
Breezes is also there to some extent;
Japanese Boy is there by moonlight
To naturally take it pleasantly—
And yet he do not!!
O why, then? Because this:
Mountain Fujiyama is setting on his breastbone expecting to remain for
conversation about topicks.
Japanese Boy is very polite to this Fuji
Because it is entirely holy.
So he speak gentle,
Gentle like cockroaches waltzing on Brussels carpets.
“O Fuji,” dictate this Boy,
“You are too elderly to mention, place of thundering climate & sacred
mildew, nice peak for sublime thought, also for Hon. Tourist to pay
guide make walk-up—
Excuse me, please, when I express it
How I feel you was more better been
Where you was than where you is.
Therefore I hint you get from off
From my collarbone, if convenient!”
But Fuji, important hill,
Make rumbling from fire in nose.
“Togo,” he say,
“You know what about Japan?
It have got one new god to run everything!”
“What called is this diety person?” I collapse.
“He is called Hon. Gasolene,” say Fuji.
(I make American eye-wink)
“Prior gods of Japan led Simply Life,
Water God turn wheel,
Air God blow sail,
Fire God bake potatoes—
Then what say-so Japan?
‘Too slow!!’
Japan say, ‘Look what’s there!
Why do America wheel
Go buzz-around so fastly?
How she do-it make Waterbury watch
Including soap and other civilization?
How she do-it which make Marquis of St. Louis
Speed-away all time
In red chug-chug jinrikisha?’
Then answer one great Japanese scientist,
‘Gasolene, please!’
With such result,” deject O-Fujiyama,
“Japan get hurry-off-do-quick
Bang-up, slam-down, bust-trust excitement.
Temple bells is rung by steam,
Shrines of ancestors whistle like factory,
Gods of Japan is buying tickets for Nirvana—
So long for all them happy history,
Fare-bye, times of dear gone off!
Japan is getting too smart
For old fashion Volcano.”
With such say-so
Hon. Fujiyama kick Japanese Boy
Outside of his dream.
Wake to dawn-rise, Japanese Boy,
Eject yourself to duty of day!
Morn has came
And hymn of praise is telling about it from 85c alarm clock and doing
so quite well, thank you!
Once more to speak of crime and then not to mention Gasolene again.
I hear by editorial print how 12,000,000 mans has been arrested in
automobiles for past year. All forms of burglary, including murder &
assassination, has been much less arrested than this. Therefore it prove
how sinful is automobiles.
American society is divided into two sharp classes with police between
them. Them who has automobiles is called Predatory Rich, them who has not
is called Propaganders. When Socialism is elected each person will have 1
automobile; but them machinery will be out of style by then-time. Such a
discouraging thought to enjoy!
Yours truly,
HASHIMURA TOGO.
S. P.—I enquire to know from my Cousin Nogi, “Why is automobiles painted
blue?”
“To distinguish them from horses which is seldom found in them fast
colours,” collapse that idle Japanese.
Is this scientifick fact?
H. T.
XVIII
AMERICA’S BASE GAME OF BALL
SAN FRANCISCO, July 9th.
_To Editor New York Newspaper which have no Sporty Column and
are careless about Which Lickt in Prize Fite exercises, yet are
willing to report all Human Races._
DEAREST SIR—Uncle Nichi recently-time make home-come with extra pink
sporty edition of last week New York newspaper-print. He-say, “I buy it
because it are a blush-colour to resemble Hon. Police Gazat, sweet family
paper.”
On them sporty-page, Mr. Editor, was considerable chatter-talk about
baseballing and other crimes left over from front page. There I learn-how
one N. Y. gentleman of name McGraw have “discovered two new stars” and
I are glad, because Astronomy are a nice knowledge to revere; but when
I read “Hon. McGraw have broken a fresh Pitcher” I enjoy tense disgust.
Why such excitement about a milkman which are nothing but a Swede born in
Switzerland?
Sporty Editor of this paper make a very kind offer by large tipe. He-say,
_“Eech reader of this Page what got a Question to ask it about
Baseballing, please do so & we endeavor to reply if possibly
can-do.”_
So I am very grateful to him & send following Bally question about a Game
I seen & got worried:
“Please, when Hon. Knock batt Hon. Ball with knock-stick till it make
streek to sky & of finally lower itself followed by Second Basso & 3
Herders while Hon. Knock make running from Bass to Bass & Hon. Ball
come more lowly and still lower till 2 Herders hold uply their hands
for grabb & downd come Ball & aint caught because someone negleckt to
(great rory-yall from bleached seats) so Hon. Knock he gallop-to Thirdly
Bass while all struggly to grasp Ball which do a bounce with deceptive
expression & Hon. Knock stob toe & fall paralell while running, so Hon.
Catch get Ball & hasten with it to where it started from—how much would
such a Play count for both sides?”
To-day I receive following reply:
_“Your intelligent letter was read by our Puzzle Editor who is
dangerously dead.”_
Yoni Hashimoto, Japanese boot-cobble, have gone entirely mania on subjeck
of Baseballing. He oftenly speaks of White Sox and Giants with voice,
and many Japanese Boys supposes he is right. Of recently he come me with
National League expression of teeth to say it.
“Togo, we are gathering up a Japanese baseball 9 for play with.”
“How many must be in such a 9?” I ask to know.
“About 15 are sufficiently numberous,” expose Yoni. “There must be 1
Catch, 1 Stopper, 3 Bassos, 1 Pitch—”
(“A Pitch in time saves a Nine,” I report for cute smart quotation.)
“Also 3 Knockers and 6 Herders.”
“What are duties for them Herders, if they got any?” is query I make.
“Herders is most skilful of all ballplays,” parade Yoni. “They must
be able to play inside & outside of Grounds. They must be fearless
fence-climbers & able to arrive over before Hon. Ball do. They must be
reckless about colleckting Ball on 3d or 4th bounce when all others can’t
do-so. Lots of teams loses entire games because they has not got enough
of them Herders.”
“If you gather up such a Japanese team who would play with it?” I subsist.
“Some Christian team perhapsly,” corrode Yoni.
“Ah not to do!” I dib. “Christian teams is too busy bursting Sabbath
among themselves to do baseballing with such a heathens like us.”
“What to do for a challenge?” submit poor Yoni Hashimoto with entirely
daff expression.
So I go-see Hon. Strunsky, Irish salooner, & I say him,
“Who would be suitable team for play-ball with Japanese Schoolboy 9?”
“Old Soldiers Home might do so,” say he rolling beer-kag.
“Is them Old Soldiers athletick?” I require for answer.
“They are entirely cripples,” say Strunsky. “But they are still
sufficiently brisk to run circles around such a Japanese 9 what you
mention.”
“Are running in circles a necessary skill to do in baseballing?” is next
question for me, but Hon. Strunsky no can answer because a U. S. soldier
arrive filled with drunk & tell how he got a superior brain to most other
Irish.
So I go tell this Yoni man about them Old Soldiers Home what Hon.
Strunsky say might be sufficiently athletick. Yoni he go get talefone
book and search up residence of such a Elderly home & he find one in
Oakland. So sorry I no could go, but I must assist geraniums of Mrs. Lusy
Macdonald, queenly lady of 286 pound beauty. But Yoni with entirely
yellow baseball 9 composed of 15 Japanese, depart off by noontime
ferryboat. Following was on it:
Hon. Pitch—S. Wanda, Japanese socialist.
Hon. Catch—A. Kickahajama, missionary boy.
Hon. Stopper—Bunkio Saguchi.
Hon. 1st Basso—W. Furo, whose brother is still dead.
Hon. 2d Basso—Yoni Hashimoto, Japanese boot-cobble.
Hon. 3d Basso—Cousin Nogi.
Hon. 1st Knocker—Sydney Katsu, Jr., who suppose he can.
Hon. 2d Knocker—Y. Yakamoto, familiar haircut.
Hon. 3d Knocker—Frank the Japanned boot-polish.
6 Hon. Herders—F. Sago, R. Sanjuji, J. C. Shima, B. Ohara, B.
Shimasuki, and a Japanese who call himself Charley Smith to get
a job in bank.
Uncle Nichi, who do not understand sufficient baseballing to do so, were
permitted to go long & keep score, also do what fanning was necessary.
* * * * *
By evening-time Cousin Nogi come back looking tired but entirely
experienced.
“Who beat it in this game?” were first question for me.
“When you knows you will understand,” dignify Nogi. “Following were the
Score:
“Japanese Schoolboys 48
Old Soldiers Home 103”
“It must be very fine game to have such a large score,” I snaggle.
“We merely play 5 Inns,” say Nogi. “Them Elderly Vets was just beginning
to get active when twilight arrived. If game was continued to finish them
Hon. Score would of got several thousands extra.”
“Tell me entire story of the game,” I collapse patiently.
“It was in second Inn,” debat Nogi for Jack London expression. “Score
were then 12 to minus in flavour of the Japanese. Hon. Pitch for Old
Soldiers were Capt. Hirum Jones, oldly hero who lost right arm in battle
of Shylock.”
“How can a hero be a baseball Pitch when he lost his arm?” are my earnest
enquire.
“His left arm were still entirely there,” dib Nogi. “With this he make
some very gentle throws. I am next to go batt. I stand uply with brave
expression & when Hon. Ball come soring to me I make fierce knock. Ball
go to heaven with loud report. (Maddy banzai from Uncle Nichi who was
there to fan it.) I make 4 entire home-runnings before them Hon. Vets
could find Ball which was roosting in a tree. Then I am put entirely out
& Hon. Vets enjoy a Inn.”
Nogi make trajick puff with cigar.
“Hon. Jeremiah Willkins, a sweet soldier who lost 2 legs in Battle of
Bully Run, next go batt. He were a very nice knocker, so when he hit
ball for high sore he attempt to approach 2d Bass, but are deliciously
slow, thank you, because of footlus condition. W. Furo grabb ball quickly
& Hon. Umperor yall ‘Out, please!’ When Uncle Nichi hear this he cry
for sorrow, ‘O! not to do! what brutal Umperor to put oldy man outside
because he lost 2 legs!’ Intense sensations for all Japanese present. S.
Wanda, Japanese socialist, approach Hon. Willkins with polite hat. ‘Hon.
Sir,’ he say-so, ‘permit me for hellup you make home-run,’ So Wanda,
assisted by Bunkio Saguchi & Sydney Katsu, Jr., give helluping aid to
Hon. Willkins for 5 home-runs, when he say he are tired so he set down.
“After that,” say Nogi, “it were a very pleasant outing for them Hon.
Vets. Eech Old Soldier what go batt are some kind of a delicious
cripple & other hon. wounds, so we must also aid _him_ to enjoy several
home-runs.”
“How long this loving attention go on?” I ask to know.
“Bye-bye darkness fall & dinner-bell from Elderly Hero Establishment
announce quit-time for all. So handclasp were enjoyed with 3-cheer
ceremony & we go ferry-boat.”
“103 runs were a hard afternoon for such oldy mans,” I snuggest.
“It were a splandid lesson in politeness for all National Leagues,”
corrugate Nogi.
“It were a splandid lesson in bookkeeping for Uncle Nichi who kept
score,” was answer for Japanese Schoolboy.
Please print following rhythm for practice:
_FANATICAL POEM ABOUT ICHI-BAN, AN ANTIQUE ROOT_
Ichi-ban
Of Old Japan
He were a famous Baseball Fan—
PIN-PIN
Come in!
He ust to skreech,
He ust to preech
And set for hours upon the Bleech
With howels
& growels
And when the Home Team missed a play them swaring-words he ust to say
was very noted in his day from Fujiyama to Cathay.
He knowed the score
And something more
Of every Team what Pennants bore
In days that was entirely yore.
He knowed the batting-records, too,
Of Hokasai & Tingapu—
O-SAN, O-SAN!
A wildly fan
Was Ichi-ban of Old Japan.
Now Ichi-ban
Them famous man
He stay at Baseball Grounds so long
His Wife she feel there something wrong
Because her husband been away
For 60-night & 60-day.
She very cross. And so, of course,
She go and buy 1 nice divorce
And when it was entirely got
She sell the family house & lott
And runny way from Ichi-ban
With Kokomo, a railroad man.
So all the neighbors they suppose,
“When Ichi-ban come home & knows
What trajick have occur to him
He tare his Wife from lim to lim.”
So K. Batsu,
A neighbor true,
To Baseball Ground he straightly go
For tell poor Ichi-ban what-so;
But Ichi-ban, who still was there, he gaz ahead with fixy stare,
sometime a snort, sometime a sware, but otherwise what do he care?
“Your wife,” say Batsu, “run away.”
But Ichi-ban just snuff & say,
“The Pitcher very punk today.”
Say Batsu, “Worser news I got—
Your Wife have stole your house & lott—
It are a very wrong disgrace.”
Say Ichi-ban with fixy face,
“That nothing!—man just stole 3d Base.”
So Batsu, when them words he hear,
Enjoy some sympathy & fear,
“I sorry, friend, what grief have came——”
“Cut out!” say Ich, “you spoil the game.”
So Batsu for them heartless speech
Leave Ichi-ban upon the Bleech
To snorty sporty howly screech,
To hooty tooty rooty squawk
In latest style of Baseball Talk.
So Ichi-ban, all world forgot,
Stay 7-year in that same spot.
He lose his friends, improve his voice
And live on Peanuts & rejoice
Til one day when the Home Team beat
He got some spasms in his feet
Which gave such banzais to his tongue
He die by shouting up a lung.
So on his Tomb to-day for see
Some Tourists finds this Repartee:
“Ichi-ban
Of Old Japan
Were just a average Baseball Fan
PIN-PIN
Come-in!”
Hoping you will,
Yours truly,
HASHIMURA TOGO.
XIX
IS A VICE-PRES NEARLY A KING?
SAN FRANCISCO, July 12th.
_Editor New York Newspaper which are responsible for
everything._
DEAR SIR—Noted Greek patriot, Erysipelas, were once offered job of Street
Cleaning Department in Athens, Greece, which was then in a very insane
state of dirt. Intimides, Mayor of Athens, offer him this job for a
insult, because it was. How useless however!
“Ah!” commute them Erysipelas, “I will took such a publick jobs & show
what a elegant muck-sweep I can do.”
So he done it by history.
Mr. Editor, some patriot of America should become like Hon. Erysipelas
& be a Vice-President without doing a sulk. To be a Vice-President are
like such a Street Cleansing job, only it are more hummbel. He are
like a street-sweeper without a broom. He are not permitted to carry
turkey-dusters or other dangerous fire-arms. He are placed in a very
high seat & commanded to set there 4 years enjoying silences. Raking,
brooming & dusting are a forbid. If he are caught trying to wipe cobwebs
off of Senate with silk handkerchief he are given a upbraid. He enjoy
very hopeless position—and yet he might do something for somebody some
days. If he start young being a Vice-President might he not work up to
good position by this? Might he not, by eventual time, get a job being 3d
secretary to German Embassy or clerk in Subtreasury Dept?
I ask for anxiety.
I have just-but & recently become sad about Vice-Presidents. Formerly I
imagined it were pretty nice kind of grandeur. Some weeks past-time I
hear wildly news & go with run-step to saloon of Hon. Strunsky who thinks
politically because he are Irish.
“Hon. Jim Sherman got it!” I collapse for excitement.
“Who in politicks are Jim Sherman?” require Hon. Strunsky.
“He are man what was nominate,” I snagger.
“Nominate for what?” crossly examine him.
“For Vice-President,” I rapture.
“O!” say Hon. Strunsky and continue to wipe beer from glass.
I enjoy falling of face.
“Are not Vice-Presidency almost a kingly job?” I ask to know.
“Almost,” degrade Strunsky with towel.
“What you mean by ‘almost’?” I research.
“By ‘almost’ I mean ‘nearly,’” irritate that Irish patriot. “When a thing
are ‘almost good’ it are ‘nearly bad,’” he dib. “When I chase a ferryboat
and almost catch it, that do not help me much about arriving to Oakland
in time for German banquit. A Vice-Pres are a statesman what have nearly
caught the Ship of State.”
“Situation of Vice-President were offered to many Favourite Sons,” I
regret.
“It were refused by many Favourite Sons,” say Strunsky, “but it were
accepted by a Political Orphan.”
So I leave that Strunsky enjoying feel of considerable depress near
shoulder-blade. I have a slammed ideal. Such a useless to young mans
studying bookkeeping & stenography of hope to become President some day!
It are awfully well to make walk-up by stairway of Fame—but supposing for
imagination that foot slipped? Ah then! Japanese Boy might get downdy
tumble to be a Vice-President or some other equal crime.
Soonly I meet up with my Uncle Nichi, who are taking lessons in American
cigar smoking from Cousin Nogi. My dear ¼ ancestor are permitted to
discuss about Hon. William Jenny Bryan because of reverence for ancient
history.
“Hon. Thos. Lawson of Mass. have offer $1,000,000 to Hon. Bryan to take
it and be a Vice-President,” say-he for news.
“That price would be considerable circulation for _The Commutor_, Hon.
Bryan’s newspaper,” I collide. “But could Hon. Bryan do so much for so
little?”
“Honour of such office are beyond goldy riches,” dib Uncle who is a
farmer.
“Honour of such office are beyond caring for,” I notify for editorial
sneers.
“Was not Hon. Roosevelt once a Vice-President?” corrode that relationship
of mine.
“Many poor boys has became famous,” I supine. “Hon. Lincoln once splitted
rails, Hon. Gen. Grant once deliver kindling. Sometimes a Vice-President,
by willing-work industry can lift self from mean & sordy surroundings
which he is in to position of self-respect & desensy.”
“What are duties of Vice-Pres, if he got any?” project that oldy man.
“Following duties,” I say, “must be did by him to make everything
pleasant, etc.:
1—He must be polite to superiors which is almost everybody
around Washington. He will get great dissatisfaction if he
ain’t.
2—He must have neat appearance, including brushed clothes
& hair. He must not come down to work without a collar on
his neck. Hon. Speaker of House can be very second-handed in
appearance & can eat chew-tobacco before all; but Hon. Pres of
Senate should be at least respectable.
3—He must go to work sharply by 8 o’clock each weekly day.
Sunday evenings he can entertain quiet callers in his room.
4—He must address Cabinet Members by their full title, if they
got it.
5—He must not be seen talking with friends in hallways or
lobbies.
6—He must not swear or wear profane neckties.
7—He must be white-coloured American citizen entirely over 21
years age & must be able to write his name in plain business
hand.
“Them is duties what a gentleman must do to be a nice Vice-Pres of these
U. S.,” I announce it.
“Can not anybody do them jobs without enjoying a strain?” ask Uncle Nichi
who is a bore.
“Anybody can do them for a short time,” I dib. “But man what can do them
for 4 years without some serious side-steps must be a great hero to some
extent.”
“Such a mans is considerably limited by law,” abstract-he.
“Either by law or by nature,” I notate for yawns.
(It shall be my duty to make some weep with eye when Uncle Nichi depart
away for dear Japan; and yet I shall live beyond such sorrow.)
* * * * *
Mr. Editor, I have a sad mania about that Vice-President. All American
school-books say: “Office of President are highest gift within power of
people—office of Vice-President are next door to it.” Office-rent should
be very high & stylish in such good neighbourhood.
What, then, is the matter with this office that so many respectable &
wealthy statesmen refuses to move in? Are gas-pipes in bad condition? Do
plumbing need attention to? Are Hon. janitor careless about hot & cold
water? Or what?
When Hon. Real Estate man have a office what nobody will took he decorate
it up with wall-paper, etc., to look rich. Pretty soonly somebody will
be careless & take it. Are not U. S. Government splandid enough business
man to repair Vice-President office so that it will not look so dubyus? I
require no answer.
I am injured in nerve to see so many grand Americans regarding that _To
Let_ sign with eye-wink. Yet what-say following Statesmen about it?
Hon. Cannon say: “I shall be old with dignity.”
Hon. Fairbanks say: “I have tried it, thank you.”
Hon. Hughes say: “It are a hall-room.”
Hon. Haze Hammond say: “Too much salary for repairs.”
Hon. Nox say: “I can hide elsewheres.”
I am confused by such proud answers. To Sydney Katsu, Jr., I inquire:
“I can not understand why persons refuses gifts what is offered to take
free.”
“Sometimes it is done,” he reject coy.
“Presidency of U. S. are greatest gift of American people. Therefore it
are like a barrel filled with diamonds. If I could not got such a jewlery
should I not be gleeful to accept a barrel filled with gold?” is question
for me.
“You might,” negotiate Sydney, “but you might have shyness about
accepting such a barrel if it was filled with gold-bricks.”
Sydney are a very bright Japanese soon to go Harvard Colledge for learn
more of it.
Here is a slight lullaby to be chanted to children when they are pained
by tooth-cut and therefore anxious about their politickal futures:
_ROCKAWAY CRADLE SONG_
Hush, Mr. Infant child,
Cease it!
Do not irritate your Parent with croup-signals and fret,
Or else do it silently.
Remain harmless a while
And I will make bright promuses
Of future,
Which you must believe
Because you are less intelligent.
When you are a mans
You must not strive
To be President,
Because you can’t.
You are not sufficiently beautiful,
You are less gifted;
How could child of such weak brain like you
Get familiar with White House furniture
And move Cabinets around?
You have not got no Policies,
You could not even scold a Colledge President!
Useless to hope!!
But refrain them tear-drop
Because I got very nice job for you.
Hush, Mr. Infant child,
Repress a croup—
I will make you a gilt promus
For future dates.
Some bye-bye time
If you are always notable for quiet,
Never snap-out,
Never burst windows,
Never run away to study sea-sailing,
Never make bronco-noise
And Wild West,
Never do nothing to nobody
At no time—
Ah!!!
Your loving Parent have got a nice politickal reward for you!
Maybe-so
At Chicago Convention
Of 1940
When shouting are finished,
Excitement are discontinued,
Taft-flags has been all bursted by waving,
Everybody are fatigued out
And Hon. Delegates are counting return tickets while sleeping—
Then Hon. Fame, or Hon. Albany Gang,
Or Somebody,
Will point you out in dark corner
And declaim for earnestness,
“Accept this tag—
You are It!”
Then soonly on slate will be wrote:
_For Vice-President Hon. Hushabye Baby_
Applause from many ushers,
Yawns from all;
You will get picture in papers
And American Publick will decry:
“He got a face like a Trust.”
So dream yet,
Childish infant,
And we will see what we can do
About your future employment.
Mr. Editor, I notice something pathetick by all newspaper-prints. I
notice how all say: “Hon. Roosevelt when he refuse to be a President 3
times made a act of noble renunciation.” But what they say about Hon.
Fairbanks when he refuse to be a Vice-President 2 times? They say
nothing! And yet were it not also a “noble act of renunciation” for that
lofty statesman to refuse another run because he were afraid of becoming
too powerful? Of sure it was! Hon. Fairbanks are a very Roman character
by principals & by residence in Indiana. If Hon. Roosevelt can be noble,
then Hon. Fairbanks can be noble also—and yet newspaper children do not
make holler about it in streets. Hon. Fairbanks must feel pretty fine
inside chest to think how he done a great deed & was a marter without
nobody discovering or even suspecting it.
Hon. Washington say-so that a perpetual President would be a King. What
would a perpetual Vice-President be then? Please answer by 2c stamp which
I have forgotten to put in.
Yours truly,
HASHIMURA TOGO.
XX
MY CONCEPTION OF THE PRESIDENCY
SAN FRANCISCO, July 25th.
_To Editor New York Newspaper which are eeger to make a fare
judge for thoughts of all Great Mans, however sneeking &
hummbel they may be:_
DEAR SIR—At same moment while I are inking these thoughts for fond
reminder, two somewhat immortal Americans is listening for formal
announcement that they are expected to be Presidents. They have got a
slight suspicion that maybe they was mentioned for some job, but it would
be very bad tasty for them to look otherwise than surprise when Hon.
Committee with flours make step-up and say-out, “You are a Nominate!”
Hon. Taft are at Warm Springs training for strength so that he will not
die a shocky death when he learn this suddenly. At humbel village of
Lincoln, Neb., where Hon. Bryan live like a Grand Duke of simple taste,
that eminent representator of Common Persons set by bay-window enjoying
nervous collapse.
“Set quiet, Hon. Wm., and look courageous like a photo,” say Hon. Wife
to be. “Tumult & shouting die and who knows what?” “I are strangely
disturb,” say Wm., arranging his face to look like a famous Roman
janitor. “Something tell me that maybe I are nominate to highest office
in gift of Tammany Hall. Pretty soonly Hon. Committee must come riding
up-hill to say it, and I hope they will be darnly quick about it. At
first I must be astonished speechless—but I can seldom remain long in
such a conditions. I must hesitate & comprise myself with slightly
cracked voice for emotion, then I must read typewritten address of
280,000 words of a entirely impromptu nature. O surely Politicks is
filled with surprises!”
Mr. Editor, some weeks in passed-by Hon. Taft & Hon. Bryan wrote a
delicious page of large tipe for your paper on subjeck, “My Conception
of the Presidency.” Of surely them two Presidents know what-is they are
talking about. Speeches of Hon. Taft is found in rolls of Fame, and
speeches of Hon. Bryan is found in rolls of Edison Phonograf. And yet
there was something deceptive & sidewise about them articles they wrote
for your paper because they sounded so. Hon. Taft say: