{"collection":"folklore-oral-tradition","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_11930/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_11930","id":"gutenberg_11930","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11930","summary":null,"tags":["American wit and humor","Category: American Literature","Category: Humour","Category: Short Stories","Fables","Folklore"],"text":"MORE FABLES\n\nby GEORGE ADE\n\n\nauthor of\n\nFABLES in SLANG\n\n\nILLUSTRATED by\n\nCLYDE J. NEWMAN\n\n\n1900.\n\n\n\n\nTable _of_ Contents\n\n\n_The_ Fable _of_ How Uncle Brewster was _Too_ Shifty _for the_ Tempter\n\n_The_ Fable _of the_ Grass Widow _and the_ Mesmeree _and the_ Six\nDollars\n\n_The_ Fable _of the_ Honest Money-Maker and the Partner of His Joys,\n_Such as They Were_\n\n_The_ Fable _of_ Why Sweetie Flew _the_ Track\n\n_The_ Fable _of the_ Ex-Chattel _and the_ Awful Swat _that_ was Waiting\n_for the_ Colonel\n\n_The_ Fable _of the_ Corporation Director _and the_ Mislaid Ambition\n\n_The_ Fable _of_ What Happened _the_ Night the Men Came _to the_ Women's\nClub\n\n_The_ Fable _of_ Why Essie's Tall Friend Got _the_ Fresh Air\n\n_The_ Fable _of the_ Michigan Counterfeit _Who_ Wasn't One Thing _or\nthe_ Other\n\n_The_ Fable _of the_ Adult Girl Who Got Busy Before They Could Ring\n_the_ Bell _on_ Her\n\n_The_ Fable _of the_ Man-Grabber Who Went Out _of_ His Class\n\n_The_ Fable _of the_ Inveterate Joker who Remained _in_ Montana\n\n_The_ Fable _of the_ Cruel Insult _and the_ Arrival _of the_ Lover\n_from_ No. 6\n\n_The_ Fable _of the_ Lodge Fiend, _and the_ Delilah Trick Played _by_\nHis Wife\n\n_The_ Fable _of the_ Apprehensive Sparrow _and_ Her Daily Escape\n\n_The_ Fable _of the_ Regular Customer _and the_ Copper-Lined Entertainer\n\n_The_ Fable _of_ Lutie, _the_ False Alarm, _and_ How She Finished about\n_the_ Time _that_ She Started\n\n_The_ Fable _of the_ Cotillon Leader _from the_ Huckleberry District\n_with the_ Intermittent Memory\n\n_The_ Fable _of the_ He-Gossip _and the_ Man's Wife _and the_ Man\n\n_The_ Fable _of the_ Author Who was Sorry _for_ What He Did _to_ Willie\n\n\n\n\n_THE_ FABLE _OF_ HOW UNCLE BREWSTER WAS _TOO_ SHIFTY _FOR THE_ TEMPTER\n\n\nWhen Uncle Brewster had put on his Annual Collar and combed his Beard\nand was about to start to the Depot, his Wife, Aunt Mehely, looked at\nhim through her Specs and shook her Head doubtfully.\n\nThen she spoke as follows: \"You go slow there in the City. You know your\nFailin's. You're just full of the Old Harry, and when you're Het Up\nyou're just like as not to Raise Ned.\"\n\n\"I guess I can take keer of myse'f about as well as the Next One,\"\nretorted Uncle Brewster. \"I've been to the Mill an' got my Grist, if any\none should ask. I ain't no Greeny.\"\n\nWith that he started for the Train, which was due in one Hour.\n\nAs he rode toward the Great City he smoked a Baby Mine Cigar, purchased\nof the Butcher, and told the Brakeman a few Joe Millers just to throw\nout the Impression that he was Fine and Fancy.\n\nAfter he had Registered at the Hotel and Swelled Up properly when\naddressed as \"Mister\" by the Clerk, he wanted to know if there was a\nLively Show in Town. The Clerk told him to follow the Street until he\ncame to all the Electric Lights, and there he would find a Ballet. Uncle\nBrewster found the Place, and looked in through the Hole at an Assistant\nTreasurer, who was Pale and wore a Red Vest.\n\n[Illustration: UNCLE BREWSTER]\n\n\"I want a Chair near the Band,\" said Uncle Brewster. \"How much does one\nof 'em Fetch?\"\n\n\"Two Dollars,\" replied the Assistant Treasurer, pulling down his Cuffs\nand then examining himself in a small Mirror at one side of the Diagram.\n\n\"Great Grief!\" ejaculated Uncle Brewster. \"I only paid Thirty-Five Cents\nfor the Glass Blowers, an' I'll warrant you they beat your Troupe as bad\nas Cranberries beats Glue. I'll see you plumb in Halifax before I--\"\n\n\"Stand aside, please,\" said the Assistant Treasurer.\n\nUncle Brewster saw a Policeman, and thought it his Duty to tell the\nOfficer that the Theater Folks were a Pack of Robbers.\n\n\"Up an Alley,\" said the Policeman.\n\nInstead of going to a Show, Uncle Brewster stood in front of a Clothing\nStore and watched the Wax Figures.\n\nWhen he got back to his Room the Bell-Hopper came around and asked him\nif he cared to Sit in a Quiet Game. Uncle Brewster wanted to know\nwhether they were Gamblers or Business Men, and the Boy said they were\nBusiness Men. It was all Friendly, with an Ante of Two Bits and the\nChandelier as the Limit. Uncle Brewster said he was accustomed to\nplaying with Lima Beans, Three for a Cent and One call Two and no fair\nto Bluff. The Bell-Hopper told him to Turn In and get a Good Night's\nRest.\n\nNext Morning at the Hotel he spotted a stylish little Chunk of a Woman\nwho kept the Cigar Case and sold Books with Actress Photos on the\noutside.\n\nHe walked over to buy a Cigar, but he happened to see the \"3 for 50c.\"\nLabel and his Feet got cold.\n\nSo, instead of buying a Cigar, he conversed with the Proprietress. He\nseemed to be a Success with her, and ventured to say that he was a\nStranger in Town and would like first-rate to go out to a Lecture or\nsome other kind of Entertainment that Evening if he could find a Nice\nGirl that didn't mind going with a Respectable Man who could give\nReferences, and besides was nearly old enough to be her Father. Then\nafter the Lecture they could go to a First-Class Restaurant and have an\nOyster Stew.\n\n[Illustration: THE INVITATION]\n\nUncle Brewster had read the Illustrated Papers in the Barber Shop out\nHome, and he certainly knew what was Expected of a Man who wanted to\ngive a Gay Girl the Time of her Life.\n\nThe Cigar and Literary Girl said she would be Charmed to Accompany him\nonly for one Thing: She said she didn't have a Hat that was Fit to Wear.\nShe said she could tell by his Looks that he was a Gentleman that\nwouldn't want to go anywhere with a Lady whose Lid was Tacky. Possibly\nhe would be willing to Stake her to a Hat.\n\n\"What would the Hat come to?\" asked Uncle Brewster, somewhat Leary.\n\n\"Only Fourteen Dollars,\" she replied.\n\n\"I'll Think it Over,\" quoth Uncle Brewster, in a choking Voice, and he\nwas so Groggy he walked into the Elevator instead of going out the\nStreet Door.\n\nA little while later Uncle Brewster met an Acquaintance who gave him a\nComplimentary Badge to the Races. He walked out to the Track, so as to\nmake the Expense as Reasonable as possible.\n\nAs soon as he was in the Ring a Tout took him back of a Hot Sausage\nBooth and told him not to Give it Out, but Green Pill in the First Race\nwas sure to Win as far as a man could throw an Anvil, and to hurry and\nget a Piece of Money on. Uncle Brewster looked at the Entries and began\nto Quiver. He wished that Doc Jimmison could be there to Advise him.\nGreen Pill was 30 to 1, and the Tout had his information from a Stable\nBoy that slept with the Horse.\n\nA Reckless Spirit seized Uncle Brewster. He said he would take a Chance\neven if he didn't know for Sure that he would Win. So he walked up to a\nBookie and said to him: \"I want to Bet Fifty Cents on Green Pill, and\nthis is a Dollar here, so you want to give me Fifty Cents Change.\"\n\nWhereupon the Bookie told him to Back Up and Fade and do a Disappearing\nSpecialty.\n\nUncle Brewster Escaped and found himself at a Bar. He decided that he\nwould take a Drink, because he wouldn't be Home until next Day and by\nthat time it would be off his Breath.\n\n[Illustration: NON-COMBUSTIBLE]\n\nSo he laid his Bosom against the Brass Railing and said to the Man in\nWhite, \"You might as well draw me a Glass of Beer.\"\n\n\"We've got it in Bottles,\" said the Barkeep, regarding Uncle Brewster\nwithout a sign of Enthusiasm.\n\n\"What do you git for a Bottle?\" asked Uncle Brewster.\n\n\"Twenty Cents,\" was the Reply of the Liquor Clerk.\n\n\"Keep it,\" said Uncle Brewster.\n\nPerceiving that the Race-Track was in the hands of Gougers, Uncle\nBrewster walked back to the Hotel. By that Time his New Shoes had\nCrippled him, and he decided to take the Afternoon Train for home\ninstead of Waiting Over.\n\nThat Evening he was back at his own Fireside, with the Bunged-Up Feet\nresting in Carpet Slippers. As he sat and read the Poultry Magazine,\nAunt Mehely looked at him sidewise, and full of Suspicion said, \"I\ns'pose you just Played Hob there in the City.\"\n\nAnd Uncle Brewster replied as follows: \"No, Mother, I didn't Drink and I\ndidn't Gamble. I didn't do Nothin'--not even go to a Theayter.\"\n\nAnd as he spoke an Aureole of Virtue seemed to curdle above him, while\nhis Countenance bore an Expression of Placid Triumph, which meant that\nhe was the real Asbestos Paragon who had been tried in the Furnace and\ndeclared Non-Combustible.\n\nMORAL: _Some People are Good because it Comes High to be Otherwise_.\n\n\n\n\n_THE_ FABLE _OF THE_ GRASS WIDOW _AND THE_ MESMEREE _AND THE_ SIX\nDOLLARS\n\n\nOne Day a keen Business manager who thought nobody could Show him was\nsitting at his Desk. A Grass Widow floated in, and stood Smiling at him.\nShe was a Blonde, and had a Gown that fit her as if she had been Packed\ninto it by Hydraulic Pressure. She was just as Demure as Edna May ever\ntried to be, but the Business Manager was a Lightning Calculator, and he\nSurmised that the Bunk was about to be Handed to him. The Cold Chills\nwent down his Spine when he caught a Flash of the Half-Morocco\nProspectus.\n\nIf it had been a Man Agent he would have shouted \"Sick 'em\" and reached\nfor a Paper-Weight. But when the Agent has the Venus de Milo beaten on\nPoints and Style, and when the Way the Skirt sets isn't so Poor, and she\nis Coy and introduces the Startled Fawn way of backing up without\ngetting any farther away, and when she comes on with short Steps, and he\ngets the remote Swish of the Real Silk, to say nothing of the Faint\nAroma of New-Mown Hay, and her Hesitating Manner seems to ask, \"Have I\nor have I not met a Friend?\"--in a Case of that kind, the Victim is just\nthe same as Strapped to the Operating-Table. He has about One Chance in\na Million.\n\nThe timorous but trusting little Grass Widow sat beside the Business\nManager and told him her Hard-Luck Story in low, bird-like Notes. She\nsaid she was the only Support of her Little Boy, who was attending a\nMilitary School at Syracuse, N.Y. She turned the Liquid Orbs on him and\nhad him to the Bad. He thought he would tell her that already he had\nmore Books at Home than he could get on the Shelves, but when he tried\nto Talk he only Yammered. She Kept on with her little Song, and Smiled\nall the Time, and sat a little Closer, and he got so Dizzy he had to\nlock his Legs under the Office Chair to keep from Sinking Away.\n\n[Illustration: GRASS WIDOW]\n\nWhen she had him in the Hypnotic State she pushed the Silver Pencil into\nhis Right Hand, and showed him where to sign his Name. He wrote it,\nwhile the dim Sub-Consciousness told him that probably he was the\nSoftest Thing the Lady Robber had Stood Up that Season. Then she\nrecovered the Pencil, which he was confusedly trying to put into his\nVest Pocket, and missing it about Six Inches, and with a cheery Good By\nshe was gone.\n\nHe shook himself and took a Long Breath, and asked where he was. Then it\nall came back to him and he felt Ornery, and called himself Names and\nroasted the Office Boy in the Next Room, and made a Rule that hereafter\nNobody could get at him except by Card, and if any Blonde Sharks in\nExpensive Costumes asked for him, to call up the Chief and ask for a\nSquad.\n\n[Illustration: THE OFFICE BOY]\n\nHe was so Wrothy at himself for being Held Up that he could not find any\nConsolation except in the Fact that he had seen on the List of\nSubscribers the name of nearly every well-known married Citizen above\nthe Age of 35. He was not the Only One. She had Corralled the Street.\n\nWhen the Man came around to deliver the seven-pound copy of \"Happy Hours\nwith the Poets,\" and he paid out his Six Silver Pieces for a queer\nVolume that he would not have Read for Six an Hour, he hated himself\nworse than ever. He thought some of giving the Book to the Office Boy,\nby way of Revenge, but he hit upon a Better Use for it. He put it back\ninto the Box and carried it Home, and said to his Wife, \"See what I have\nBought for you.\"\n\nIt occurred to him that after getting a Present like that, she ought to\nlet him stay out every Night for a Month. But she could not see it that\nWay. He had to tell her that Some Women never seem to Appreciate having\nHusbands to Grind and Toil all day, so as to be able to purchase\nBeautiful Gifts for them. Then she told him that all the Women of her\nAcquaintance had received these Books as Presents, and a crowd of\nMarried Men must have been given a Club Rate. Then he Spunked up and\nsaid that if she was going to look a Gift Horse in the Mouth, they\nwouldn't Talk about it any more.\n\nIn the meantime the Grass Widow was living at the Waldorf-Astoria.\n\nMORAL: _Those who are Entitled to it Get it sooner or later_.\n\n\n\n\n_THE_ FABLE _OF THE_ HONEST MONEY-MAKER AND THE PARTNER OF HIS JOYS,\n_SUCH AS THEY WERE_\n\n\nThe Prosperous Farmer lived in an Agricultural Section of the Middle\nWest. He commanded the Respect of all his Neighbors. He owned a Section,\nand had a Raft of big Horses and white-faced Cows and Farm Machinery,\nand Money in the Bank besides. He still had the first Dollar he ever\nmade, and it could not have been taken away from him with Pincers.\n\nHenry was a ponderous, Clydesdale kind of Man, with Warts on his Hands.\nHe did not have to travel on Appearances, because the whole County knew\nwhat he was Worth. Of course he was Married. Years before he had\nselected a willing Country Girl with Pink Cheeks, and put her into his\nKitchen to serve the Remainder of her Natural Life. He let her have as\nhigh as Two Dollars a Year to spend for herself. Her Hours were from 6\nA.M. to 6 A.M., and if she got any Sleep she had to take it out of her\nTime. The Eight-Hour Day was not recognized on Henry's Place.\n\n[Illustration: HENRY]\n\nAfter Ten Years of raising Children, Steaming over the Washtub, Milking\nthe Cows, Carrying in Wood, Cooking for the Hands, and other Delsarte\nsuch as the Respected Farmer usually Frames Up for his Wife, she was as\nthin as a Rail and humped over in the Shoulders. She was Thirty, and\nlooked Sixty. Her Complexion was like Parchment and her Voice had been\nworn to a Cackle. She was losing her Teeth, too, but Henry could not\nafford to pay Dentist Bills because he needed all his Money to buy more\nPoland Chinas and build other Cribs. If she wanted a Summer Kitchen or a\nnew Wringer or a Sewing Machine, or Anything Else that would lighten her\nLabors, Henry would Moan and Grumble and say she was trying to land him\nin the Poorhouse.\n\nThey had a dandy big Barn, painted Red With White Trimmings, and a\nPatent Fork to lift the Hay into the Mow, and the Family lived in a Pine\nBox that had not been Painted in Years and had Dog-Fennel all around the\nFront of it.\n\nThe Wife of the Respected Farmer was the only Work Animal around the\nPlace that was not kept Fat and Sleek. But, of course, Henry did not\ncount on Selling her. Henry often would fix up his Blooded Stock for the\nCounty Fair and tie Blue Ribbons on the Percherons and Herefords, but it\nwas never noticed that he tied any Blue Ribbons on the Wife.\n\nAnd yet Henry was a Man to be Proud of. He never Drank and he was a Good\nHand with Horses, and he used to go to Church on Sunday Morning and hold\na Cud of Tobacco in his Face during Services and sing Hymns with Extreme\nUnction. He would sing that he was a Lamb and had put on the Snow-White\nRobes and that Peace attended him. People would see him there in his\nStore Suit, with the Emaciated Wife and the Scared Children sitting in\nthe Shadow of his Greatness, and they said that she was Lucky to have a\nMan who was so Well Off and lived in the Fear of the Lord.\n\nHenry was Patriotic as well as Pious. He had a Picture of Abraham\nLincoln in the Front Room, which no one was permitted to Enter, and he\nwas glad that Slavery had been abolished.\n\nHenry robbed the Cradle in order to get Farm-Hands. As soon as the\nChildren were able to Walk without holding on, he started them for the\nCorn-Field, and told them to Pay for the Board that they had been\nSponging off of him up to that Time. He did not want them to get too\nmuch Schooling for fear that they would want to sit up at Night and Read\ninstead of Turning In so as to get an Early Start along before Daylight\nnext Morning. So they did not get any too much, rest easy. And he never\nFoundered them on Stick Candy or Raisins or any such Delicatessen for\nsale at a General Store. Henry was undoubtedly the Tightest Wad in the\nTownship. Some of the Folks who had got into a Box through Poor\nManagement, and had been Foreclosed out of House and Home by Henry and\nhis Lawyer, used to say that Henry was a Skin, and was too Stingy to\ngive his Family enough to Eat, but most People looked up to Henry, for\nthere was no getting around it that he was Successful.\n\n[Illustration: THE FARM]\n\nWhen the Respected Farmer had been Married for Twenty Years and the\nChildren had developed into long Gawks who did not know Anything except\nto get out and Toil all Day for Pa and not be paid anything for it, and\nafter Henry had scraped together more Money than you could load on a\nHay-Rack, an Unfortunate Thing happened. His Wife began to Fail. She was\nnow Forty, but the Fair and Fat did not go with it. At that Age some\nWomen are Buxom and just blossoming into the Full Charm of Matronly\nWomanhood. But Henry's Wife was Gaunt and Homely and all Run Down. She\nhad been Poorly for Years, but she had to keep up and do the Chores as\nwell as the House-Work, because Henry could not afford to hire a Girl.\nAt last her Back gave out, so that she had to sit down and Rest every\nOnce in a While. Henry would come in for his Meals and to let her know\nhow Hearty all the Calves seemed to be, and he began to Notice that she\nwas not very Chipper. It Worried him more than a little, because he did\nnot care to pay any Doctor Bills. He told her she had better go and get\nsome Patent Medicine that he had seen advertised on the Fence coming out\nfrom Town. It was only Twenty-Five cents a Bottle, and was warranted to\nCure Anything. So she tried it, but it did not seem to restore her Youth\nand she got Weaker, and at last Henry just had to have the Doctor,\nExpense or No Expense. The Doctor said that as nearly as he could\nDiagnose her Case, she seemed to be Worn Out. Henry was Surprised, and\nsaid she had not been Complaining any more than Usual.\n\nNext Afternoon he was out Dickering for a Bull, and his Woman, lying on\nthe cheap Bedstead, up under the hot Roof, folded her lean Hands and\nslipped away to the only Rest she had known since she tied up with a\nProsperous and Respected Farmer.\n\n[Illustration: THE FAMILY]\n\nHenry was all Broken Up. He Wailed and Sobbed and made an Awful Fuss at\nthe Church. The Preacher tried to Comfort him by saying that the Ways of\nProvidence were beyond all Finding Out. He said that probably there was\nsome Reason why the Sister had been taken right in the Prime of her\nUsefulness, but it was not for Henry to know it. He said the only\nConsolation he could offer was the Hope that possibly she was Better\nOff. There did not seem to be much Doubt about that.\n\nIn about a Month the Respected Farmer was riding around the Country in\nhis Buck-Board looking for Number Two. He had a business Head and he\nknew it was Cheaper to Marry than to Hire one. His Daughter was only\nEleven and not quite Big Enough as yet to do all the Work for five Men.\n\nFinally he found one who had the Reputation of being a Good Worker. When\nhe took her over to his House to Break Her In, the Paper at the County\nSeat referred to them as the Happy Couple.\n\nMORAL: _Be Honest and Respected and it Goes_.\n\n\n\n\n_THE_ FABLE _OF_ WHY SWEETIE FLEW _THE_ TRACK\n\n\nOnce there were two Married People who used \"Lovey\" and \"Pet\" when they\nwere in Company, and as soon as they were at Home they Threw Things at\neach other. She used to watch him through a Hole in the Curtain to see\nif he Flirted with any Women as he walked up the Street, and he bribed\nthe Hired Girl to tell him Everything that happened while he was off the\nReservation.\n\nThey did not Mocha and Java worth a Cent.\n\nThe Cardboard Motto in the Dining Room said, \"Love One Another,\" but\nthey were too Busy to Read.\n\nHe had a Clearing on the top of his Head and wore Side-Whiskers and bore\na general Resemblance to the Before in an Ad for a Facial Treatment, and\nyet she suspected that all the Women in Town were Crazy to steal him\naway from her.\n\nLikewise, inasmuch as she was the same Width all the way up and down,\nthe same as a Poster Girl, and used to sport a Velvet Shroud with Black\nBeads on it, and could wield a Tooth-Pick and carry on a Conversation at\nthe same time, he knew that sooner or later some Handsome Wretch with\nMoney would try to Abduct her.\n\nSometimes he would bring a Friend Home to Dinner, and then if the Friend\nextended himself and told the Missus how well she was looking or\nPerjured himself over her Hand-Painting, Papa would get a Grouch and\nhide in the Corner.\n\n[Illustration: BABY]\n\nThen she would Fan herself rapidly and ask, \"Aren't you well, Dear?\"\n\nDear would force one of those Dying-Martyr Smiles and reply, \"I am quite\nwell, Puss.\"\n\nThen Puss would tell the Visitor that Baby was simply ruining his Health\nthrough Devotion to his Employers, but they didn't seem to Appreciate\nhim at all.\n\nAfter the Visitor went away there would be Language all over the Shop,\nand the poor Hired Girl would lock the Door and write to the\nIntelligence Office for a new Place.\n\nTruly, it was a Happy Little Home, with the Reverse English.\n\nShe would Frisk his Wardrobe every day or two, looking for Evidence, and\nhe would compel her to Itemize her Accounts so that he might be sure she\nwas not giving Jewelry to the Iceman.\n\nShe would find a certain Passage in a Book, relating to Man's Cruelty\nand Woman's Silent Suffering, and then she would Mark the Passage and\nput it where he could Find it. Then when he Found it, he would Mark it\n\"Rot!\" and put it where She could find it, and then she would Weep and\nwrite Letters to Lady Authors telling them how Sad and Lonely she was.\n\nBut all the Time they kept up an Affectionate Front before their\nAcquaintances. They thought it better to avoid Scenes in Public; and\nalthough each knew that the other was False and had ceased to Love, they\ncould not bring themselves to think of a Separation or a Divorce on\naccount of the Cat--their Cat! The Cat must never know.\n\nHowever, one of his Business Associates was On. He was a Bachelor and\nhad lived at a European Hotel for Years, and he knew just how to\nArbitrate a Domestic Scrap. So he sat down one day and gave the Husband\na Good Talking-To. He said it was a Shame that such Nice People should\nhave their Differences when it was so easy to be Happy. With that he\nhanded over a Slew of Platitudes and Proverbs, such as: \"A Soft Answer\nTurneth Away Wrath,\" \"It takes Two to Make a Quarrel,\" \"Think Twice\nbefore you Speak once,\" _et cetera._\n\n[Illustration: SWEETIE]\n\nThe Gist of his heart-to-heart Talk was that any Husband could stop\nRough House Proceedings and shoot all kinds of Sweetness and Light into\nthe sassiest Mooch a Wife ever got on to herself, if only he would\nrefuse to Quarrel with her, receive her Flings without a Show of Wrath,\nand get up every Morning ready to Plug for a Renaissance of their Early\nLove.\n\nOh, but it was a Beauty Bright System! The European Hotel Bachelor said\nit couldn't Lose.\n\nThe Husband decided to give it a Trial. That very Afternoon he met his\nWife, who had come out in her long Fawn-Colored Coat that fell straight\nin the Back. She had her Upper Rigging set, and was trying to Blanket\neverything on the Street. He flashed a Smiling Countenance, and said he\nwas glad to see her. Then, instead of asking her When she left the\nHouse, and Where she had been since then, and How Soon she expected to\ngo Home again, he told her she was looking Unusually Charming. She was\nStartled.\n\n[Illustration: THE CAT]\n\nHe handed her a Ten and told her to have a Good Time. Now, usually, when\nshe wanted any Pin Money, she had to Pry it out of him.\n\nOn her way home her Mind was in a Tumult. Why had he given her the Con\nSpeech and all that Money? What was the Ulterior Motive? What had he\nbeen Doing that he should attempt to Coddle her into a Forgiving Mood?\nDid he Fear that she would get next to his Past? Huh?\n\nHe just couldn't Fool her. She knew Something was Doing. Else why should\nhe try to Fix her?\n\nAs soon as he came Home that Evening she Accused him and said she knew\nAll. Instead of Countering with the usual Gibe, he told her that she was\nthe Only Woman he had ever Loved and would she go to a Show that\nEvening? She went, thinking that perhaps the Other Woman might be there\nand she could detect some Signal passing between them. While at the\nTheater he fanned her and explained the Plot, and was all Attention.\nThey rode Home in a Cab, because he said a Car wasn't good enough for\nHis Queen. After they were at Home he asked her to sing the Song he had\nliked so much in the Old Days, \"My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean.\" This was\nConclusive Proof to her that the Hussy's Name was Bonnie.\n\nNext Morning before he started away he Kissed her, and it wasn't any\nMake-Believe such as you see in Comic Opera. It was a genuine Olga\nNethersole Buss, full of Linger and Adhesion. To cap the Climax he said\nhe would stop in and order some Violets.\n\nAs soon as the Door slammed she Staggered toward the Kitchen, holding on\nto the Furniture here and there, the same as a Sardou Heroine. In the\nKitchen was a Box of Rough on Rats. Hastily Concealing it beneath the\nloose Folds of her Morning Gown, she went to her Room and looked in the\nMirror.\n\nAh, when he saw that Cold, White Face, then he would be Sorry. Upon\nSecond Thought, this didn't seem to be a Moral Certainty, so she\nWeakened and had the Girl take the Poison and Hide it. She said she\nwould Live--Live to Forget his Perfidy.\n\nThat day she went back to Mamma, and took the Cat with her.\n\nWhen he came Home in the Twilight he found no Wife, no Cat--only a\nScribbled Note saying that he could no longer Deceive her; that she had\nseen through his Diabolical Plan to Lull her Suspicions, and that she\nwas no longer Safe in the Same House.\n\nWhen the Deserted Husband went to the Friend and told him what had\nHappened, the Wise Bachelor said:\n\n\"I see. You did not go at her Strong enough.\"\n\nMORAL: _They don't know Anything about it_.\n\n\n\n\n_THE_ FABLE _OF THE_ EX-CHATTEL _AND THE_ AWFUL SWAT _THAT_ WAS WAITING\n_FOR THE COLONEL_\n\n\nIn one of the States of the Sunny South there stood a war-time House\nthat had six white Columns along the Veranda, and the Chimney ran up the\noutside of the Wall.\n\nThis House was the Abode of a Colonel who had a silver-gray Goatee and\nthe Manners of the Old School. All the First Families in the State were\nrelated to him, and therefore he was somewhat Particular as to who Lined\nUp with him when he took his Toddy.\n\nHe was proud of his Ancestry, and he carried the Scars to prove that he\nwould Resent an Insult.\n\nNow it happened that the Thirteenth Amendment signified nothing to him.\nHe had been Reconstructed, but it didn't Take.\n\nWhile on a Business Trip to the North he stopped at a Gaudy Hotel with\nall kinds of Mirrors and Onyx Stairways.\n\nThe Head Waiter at this Hotel was a Colored Gentleman with a False Front\nand a Dress Suit that fit him too soon. His Name was Mr. Winfield. He\nwas President of the Colored Waiters' Union, Vice-President of the\nRepublican County Central Committee, and Regal Commander of the Princes\nof Ethiopia.\n\nHis Honors lay Heavily upon him. He showed People where to sit in the\nDining Room, and those who failed to Obey usually had to wait fifteen or\ntwenty Minutes for their Vermicelli.\n\n[Illustration: THE COLONEL]\n\nMr. Winfield favored his Feet somewhat, which caused him to walk\nSyncopated, but, everything considered, he was quite Important and\nfairly Warm.\n\nOne morning the Colonel went into the Dining Room, and after he had\nseated himself he called Mr. Winfield to him and said he wanted some Hot\nBiscuit. At the same time he addressed Mr. Winfield as a Black Hound.\nMr. Winfield did not know that this was a Term of Endearment in\nApahatchie County, so he picked up a Silver Fruit Dish and bounced it\nagainst the Colonel's Head.\n\nThe Colonel arose and pulled his Persuader, expecting to make it a Case\nof Justifiable Homicide, but two Waiters named George and Grant grabbed\nhim and backed him up against the Wall.\n\nThere were other guests in the Dining Room, but they did not jump in\nwith any Gun Plays and make it a Race War, because Apahatchie County was\nEight Hundred Miles away. One of them Co-Operated to the extent of\nRinging three times for a Policeman.\n\nThe Officer of the Law who arrived in a few Minutes was Mr. Otis\nBeasley, Most Worshipful Scribe of the Princes of Ethiopia, of which Mr.\nWinfield was the Regal Commander.\n\nMr. Beasley walked up to Mr. Winfield, and placing his Left Hand on his\nBrow, said, \"Hail, Brother.\"\n\n\"Hail, Most Noble Prince!\" responded Mr. Winfield, making the Mystic\nSign.\n\n\"What are the Objects of our Beloved Fraternity?\" asked Mr. Beasley, in\na whisper.\n\n\"Hope, Coslosterousness, and Polotomy,\" replied the Regal Commander.\n\n\"'Tis Well,\" said the Most Worshipful Scribe, giving him the Grip.\n\nHaving completed the Secret work, Mr. Beasley wanted to know what he\ncould do for Brother Winfield.\n\n\"Remove this Pusson,\" said Mr. Winfield, pointing at the Colonel.\n\nSo it came about that He who in Apahatchie County had trained them to\nhop off the Sidewalk and stand Uncovered until he had passed, now\nsuffered the Hideous Degradation of being marched downstairs by One of\nThem and then slammed into the Hurry-Up Wagon. Under which Circumstances\nthe Colonel had the Rabies.\n\n[Illustration: MR. WINFIELD]\n\nAt the Police Station he was dragged before a Magistrate and was charged\nwith Disorderly Conduct, Carrying Concealed Weapons, Assault and\nBattery, Assault with Intent to Kill, and Resisting an Officer.\n\nThe Magistrate was a White Man, and to him the Colonel appealed for\nJustice, claiming Brotherhood as a Caucasian. He told what would have\nhappened in Apahatchie if any Coon had dared to lay a finger on a\nColonel.\n\nHere was an opening for the Court. It must be known that the Court lived\nin a Ward that was Dark in one End, and he was out for the Colored Vote\nin case he ran for Judge. This was his Chance to make a Grand-Stand\nPlay.\n\nHe handed down a Decision to the Effect that all Men are Free and Equal,\nwith incidental References to the Emancipation Proclamation and Striking\nthe Shackles from Four Millions of Human Beings. He Ratified the\nConstitution and Permitted the Negro to stand in the Free Sunlight. In\nApahatchie County he would have been used for Target Practice, but\nApahatchie County was still Eight Hundred Miles away.\n\nIn Conclusion he Soaked the Colonel for $32.75 in Fines and Costs,\nConfiscating the Weapon, which he afterward presented to Officer Otis\nBeasley as a Slight Token of Esteem.\n\nNext Morning, as a south-bound Passenger Train was crossing the Ohio\nRiver, the Colored Porter on the Atlanta Sleeper jumped eighty feet from\nthe Trestle into the Water in order to Escape with his Life.\n\nMORAL: _A Head Waiter must be Ruled by Kindness_.\n\n\n\n\n_THE_ FABLE _OF THE_ CORPORATION DIRECTOR _AND THE_ MISLAID AMBITION\n\n\nOne of the Most Promising Boys in a Graded School had a Burning Ambition\nto be a Congressman. He loved Politics and Oratory. When there was a\nRally in Town he would carry a Torch and listen to the Spellbinder with\nhis Mouth open.\n\nThe Boy wanted to grow up and wear a Black String Tie and a Bill Cody\nHat and walk stiff-legged, with his Vest unbuttoned at the Top, and be\nDistinguished.\n\nOn Friday Afternoons he would go to School with his Face scrubbed to a\nshiny pink and his Hair roached up on one side, and he would Recite the\nSpeeches of Patrick Henry and Daniel Webster and make Gestures.\n\nWhen he Graduated from the High School he delivered an Oration on \"The\nDuty of the Hour,\" calling on all young Patriots to leap into the Arena\nand with the Shield of Virtue quench the rising Flood of Corruption. He\nsaid that the Curse of Our Times was the Greed for Wealth, and he\npleaded for Unselfish Patriotism among those in High Places.\n\nHe boarded at Home for a while without seeing a chance to jump into the\nArena, and finally his Father worked a Pull and got him a Job with a\nSteel Company. He proved to be a Handy Young Man, and the Manager sent\nHim out to make Contracts. He stopped roaching his Hair, and he didn't\ngive the Arena of Politics any serious Consideration except when the\nTariff on Steel was in Danger.\n\n[Illustration: AMBITIOUS YOUTH]\n\nIn a little while he owned a few Shares, and after that he became a\nDirector. He joined several Clubs and began to enjoy his Food. He drank\na Small Bottle with his Luncheon each Day, and he couldn't talk Business\nunless he held a Scotch High Ball in his Right Hand.\n\nWith the return of Prosperity and the Formation of the Trust and the\nWhoop in all Stocks he made so much Money that he was afraid to tell the\nAmount.\n\nHis Girth increased--he became puffy under the Eyes--you could see the\nlittle blue Veins on his Nose.\n\nHe kept his Name out of the Papers as much as possible, and he never\ngave Congress a Thought except when he talked to his Lawyer of the\nProbable Manner in which they would Evade any Legislation against\nTrusts. He took two Turkish Baths every week and wore Silk Underwear.\nWhen an Eminent Politician would come to his Office to shake him down he\nwould send out Word by the Boy in Buttons that he had gone to Europe.\nThat's what he thought of Politics.\n\nOne day while rummaging in a lower Drawer in his Library, looking for a\nBox of Poker Chips, he came upon a Roll of Manuscript and wondered what\nit was. He opened it and read how it was the Duty of all True Americans\nto hop into the Arena and struggle unselfishly for the General Good. It\ncame to him in a Flash--this was his High School Oration!\n\nThen suddenly he remembered that for several Years of his Life his\nconsuming Ambition had been--to go to Congress!\n\nWith a demoniacal Shriek he threw himself at full length on a Leather\nCouch and began to Laugh.\n\nHe rolled off the Sofa and tossed about on a $1,200 Rug in a Paroxysm of\nMerriment.\n\nHis Man came running into the Library and saw the Master in Convulsions.\nThe poor Trust Magnate was purple in the Face.\n\nThey sent for a Great Specialist, who said that his Dear Friend had\nruptured one of the smaller Arteries, and also narrowly escaped Death by\nApoplexy.\n\n[Illustration: THE MAGNATE]\n\nHe advised Rest and Quiet and the avoidance of any Great Shock.\n\nSo they took the High School Oration and put it on the Ice, and the\nMagnate slowly recovered and returned to his nine-course Dinners.\n\nMORAL: _Of all Sad Words of Tongue or Pen, the Saddest are these, \"It\nMight Have Been.\"_\n\n\n\n\n_THE_ FABLE _OF_ WHAT HAPPENED _THE_ NIGHT THE MEN CAME _TO THE_ WOMEN'S\nCLUB\n\n\nIn a Progressive Little City claiming about twice the Population that\nthe Census Enumerators could uncover, there was a Literary Club. It was\none of these Clubs guaranteed to fix you out with Culture while you\nwait. Two or three Matrons, who were too Heavy for Light Amusements, but\nnot old enough to remain at Home and Knit, organized the Club. Nearly\nevery Woman in town rushed to get in, for fear somebody would say she\nhadn't been Asked.\n\nThe Club used to Round Up once a week at the Homes of Members. There\nwould be a Paper, followed by a Discussion, after which somebody would\nPour.\n\nThe Organization seemed to be a Winner. One Thing the Lady Clubbers were\nDead Set On. They were going to have Harmony with an Upper Case H. They\nwere out to cut a seven-foot Swath through English Literature from\nBeowulf to Bangs, inclusive, and no petty Jealousies or Bickerings would\nstand in the Way.\n\nSo while they were at the Club they would pull Kittenish Smiles at each\nother, and Applaud so as not to split the Gloves. Some times they would\nKiss, too, but they always kept their Fingers crossed.\n\nOf course, when they got off in Twos and Threes they would pull the\nlittle Meat-Axes out of the Reticules and hack a few Monograms, but that\nwas to have been expected.\n\n[Illustration: WYCLIF]\n\nEverything considered, the Club was a Tremendous Go. At each Session the\nLady President would announce the Subject for the next Meeting. For\ninstance, she would say that Next Week they would take up Wyclif. Then\nevery one would romp home to look in the Encyclopedia of Authors and\nfind out who in the world Wyclif was. On the following Thursday they\nwould have Wyclif down Pat, and be primed for a Discussion. They would\ntalk about Wyclif as if he had been down to the House for Tea every\nevening that Week.\n\nAfter the Club had been running for Six Months it was beginning to be\nStrong on Quotations and Dates. The Members knew that Mrs. Browning was\nthe wife of Mr. Browning, that Milton had Trouble with his Eyes, and\nthat Lord Byron wasn't all that he should have been, to say the Least.\nThey began to feel their Intellectual Oats. In the meantime the\nJeweler's Wife had designed a Club Badge.\n\nThe Club was doing such Notable Work that some of the Members thought\nthey ought to have a Special Meeting and invite the Men. They wanted to\nput the Cap-Sheaf on a Profitable Season, and at the same time hand the\nMerited Rebuke to some of the Husbands and Brothers who had been making\nFunny Cracks.\n\nIt was decided to give the Star Programme at the Beadle Home, and after\nthe Papers had been read then all the Men and Five Women who did not\nhold Office could file through the Front Room and shake Hands with the\nPresident, the Vice-President, the Recording Secretary, the\nCorresponding Secretary, the Treasurer, and the members of the various\nCommittees, all of whom were to line up and Receive.\n\nThe reason the Club decided to have the Brain Barbecue at the Beadle\nHome was that the Beadles had such beautiful big Rooms and Double Doors.\nThere was more or less quiet Harpoon Work when the Announcement was\nmade. Several of the Elderly Ones said that Josephine Beadle was not a\nRepresentative Member of the Club. She was Fair to look upon, but she\nwas not pulling very hard for the Uplifting of the Sex. It was suspected\nthat she came to the Meetings just to Kill Time and see what the Others\nwere Wearing. She refused to buckle down to Literary Work, for she was a\ngood deal more interested in the Bachelors who filled the Windows of the\nnew Men's Club than she was in the Butler who wrote \"Hudibras.\" So why\nshould she have the Honor of entertaining the Club at the Annual\nMeeting? Unfortunately, the Members who had the most Doing under their\nBonnets were not the ones who could come to the Front with large Rooms\nthat could be Thrown together, so the Beadle Home got the Great Event.\n\n[Illustration: THE MEN]\n\nEvery one in Town who carried a Pound of Social Influence showed up in\nhis or her Other Clothes. Extra Chairs had to be brought in, and what\nwith the Smilax and Club Colors it was very Swell, and the Maiden in the\nLace Mitts who was going to write about it for the Weekly threw a couple\nof Spasms.\n\nThe Men were led in pulling at the Halters and with their Ears laid\nback. After they got into the Dressing Room they Stuck there until they\nhad to be Shooed out. They did not know what they were going against,\nbut they had their Suspicions. They managed to get Rear Seats or stand\nalong the Wall so that they could execute the Quiet Sneak if Things got\ntoo Literary. The Women were too Flushed and Proud to Notice.\n\nAt 8:30 P.M. the Lady President stood out and began to read a few Pink\nThoughts on \"Woman's Destiny--Why Not?\" Along toward 9:15, about the\ntime the Lady President was beginning to show up Good and Earnest,\nJosephine Beadle, who was Circulating around on the Outskirts of the\nThrong to make sure that everybody was Happy, made a Discovery. She\nnoticed that the Men standing along the Wall and in the Doorways were\nnot more than sixty per cent En Rapport with the Long Piece about\nWoman's Destiny. Now Josephine was right there to see that Everybody had\na Nice Time, and she did not like to see the Prominent Business Men of\nthe Town dying of Thirst or Leg Cramp or anything like that, so she gave\ntwo or three of them the Quiet Wink, and they tiptoed after her out to\nthe Dining Room, where she offered Refreshments, and said they could\nslip out on the Side Porch and Smoke if they wanted to.\n\n[Illustration: LADY PRESIDENT]\n\nProbably they preferred to go back in the Front Room and hear some more\nabout Woman's Destiny not.\n\nAs soon as they could master their Emotions and get control of their\nVoices, they told Josephine what they thought of her. They said she made\nthe Good Samaritan look like a Cheap Criminal, and if she would only say\nthe Word they would begin to put Ground Glass into the Food at Home.\nThen Josephine called them \"Boys,\" which probably does not make a Hit\nwith one who is on the sloping side of 48. More of the Men seemed to\nawake to the Fact that they were Overlooking something, so they came on\nthe Velvet Foot back to the Dining Room and declared themselves In, and\nflocked around Josephine and called her \"Josie\" and \"Joe.\" They didn't\ncare. They were having a Pleasant Visit.\n\nJosephine gave them Allopathic Slugs of the Size that they feed you in\nthe Navy and then lower you into the Dingey and send you Ashore. Then\nshe let them go out on the Porch to smoke. By the time the Lady\nPresident came to the last Page there were only two Men left in the\nFront Room. One was Asleep and the other was Penned In.\n\nThe Women were Huffy. They went out to make the Men come in, and found\nthem Bunched on the Porch listening to a Story that a Traveling Man had\njust brought to Town that Day.\n\nNow the Plan was that during the Reception the Company would stand about\nin little Groups, and ask each other what Books they liked, and make it\nsomething on the order of a Salon. This Plan miscarried, because all the\nMen wanted to hear Rag Time played by Josephine, the Life-Saver.\nJosephine had to yield, and the Men all clustered around her to give\ntheir Moral Support. After one or two Selections, they felt sufficiently\nKeyed to begin to hit up those low-down Songs about Baby and Chickens\nand Razors. No one paid any Attention to the Lady President, who was off\nin a Corner holding an Indignation Meeting with the Secretary and the\nVice-President.\n\nWhen the Women began to sort out the Men and order them to start Home\nand all the Officers of the Club were giving Josephine the frosty Good\nNight, any one could see that there was Trouble ahead.\n\nNext Day the Club held a Special Session and expelled Josephine for\nConduct Unbecoming a Member, and Josephine sent Word to them as follows:\n\"Rats.\"\n\nThen the Men quietly got together and bought Josephine about a Thousand\nDollars' Worth of American Beauty Roses to show that they were With her,\nand then Homes began to break up, and somebody started the Report that\nanyway it was the Lady President's Fault for having such a long and\npokey Essay that wasn't hers at all, but had been Copied out of a Club\nPaper published in Detroit.\n\nBefore the next Meeting there were two Factions. The Lady President had\ngone to a Rest Cure, and the Meeting resolved itself into a Good Cry and\na general Smash-Up.\n\nMORAL: _The only Literary Men are those who have to Work at it._\n\n\n\n\n_THE_ FABLE _OF_ WHY ESSIE'S TALL FRIEND GOT _THE_ FRESH AIR\n\n\nThe Owner of a Furnishing Store gave employment to a Boy with Dreamy\nEyes, who took good care of his Nails and used Scented Soap and carried\na Pocket Looking-Glass. It was his Delight to stand in the Doorway and\nwatch the Girls all Color Up when they caught Sight of him. He was said\nto be a Divine Waltzer at these Balls that cost the Gents 50 cents each\nand the Ladies get in free.\n\nThere was a Girl named Essie who was Hanging Around the Front of the\nStore about half of the Time, waiting to get a Chance to Speak to Bert.\nShe Chewed Gum and kept her Sailor Hat pulled down to her Eyebrows and\nhad her Name worked out in Wire and used it as a Breastpin. After she\nhad waited an Hour or so, and he had Broken Away long enough to take her\naside, she would want to know what it was that Net had said about her,\nor else she would ask why he had not Answered her Note. It was always\njust about as Momentous as that.\n\nIf Essie did not come, she sent some one with a Message, and sometimes\nother Floor Managers with Red Neckties and Forelocks would come in to\nsee about the Arrangements for the next Grand Hop by the Eucalyptus\nPleasure Club.\n\n[Illustration: ESSIE]\n\nBert was so Engrossed with his Love Affairs and the Pleasure Club and\nthe Bundle of Correspondence that he carried with him that he had little\nTime for Furnishing Goods. It used to Annoy him considerably when any\none came in and wanted to Spend Money. He would set out the Goods in a\nManner that showed it to be something of a Come-Down for him to be\ncompelled to Wait on Outsiders. While the Customer would be asking\nQuestions, Bert would be working the Flexible Neck to see if Essie was\nstill waiting for him. Sometimes when there was a Rush he would get real\nCross, and if People did not Buy in a Hurry he would slam the Boxes\naround and be Lippy and give them the Eye. Yet he wondered why he did\nnot get a Raise in Salary.\n\nDuring the Holiday Season, when the Eucalyptus Pleasure Club was simply\nin a Delirium of All-Night Dances and Fried-Oyster Suppers, and when\nEssie had worn a Path in the Snow coming down to tell Bert not to\nForget, the Proprietor decided that the Boy's Job was interfering with\nhis Gaiety. So when Bert came to get his Envelope the Furnisher told him\nhe needed more Outdoor Life and Exercise, and he had better find it by\nmoving around Town and looking for another Job.\n\nMORAL: _Omit the Essie Proposition_.\n\n\n\n\n_THE_ FABLE _OF THE_ MICHIGAN COUNTERFEIT WHO WASN'T ONE THING _OR THE_\nOTHER\n\n\nTwo Travelers sat in a Sleeping Car that was fixed up with Plush and\nCurly-Cues until it resembled a Chambermaid's Dream of Paradise. They\nwere talking about the Man who sat across the Aisle.\n\n\"I think he is an Englishman,\" said the First Traveler.\n\n\"Why do you think so?\" queried his Companion.\n\n\"Well, in the first place his Clothes don't fit him,\" replied the First\nTraveler. \"I observe, also, that he has piled all his Luggage on Another\nMan's Seat, that he has opened several Windows without asking\nPermission, that he has expected the Porter to pay Attention to him and\nnobody else, and that he has Kicked at something every Thirty Seconds\nsince we left Buffalo.\"\n\n\"You make out a Strong Case,\" said the Second Traveler, nodding. \"I will\nadmit that the Suit is Fierce. Still, I maintain that he is not an\nEnglishman. I notice that he seems somewhat Ashamed of his Clothes. Now,\nif he were an Englishman, he would Glory in the Misfit.\"\n\n\"Perhaps he is a Canadian,\" suggested the First Traveler.\n\n\"Impossible,\" said the other. \"He may be English, but he is not\nsufficiently British to be a Canadian. If he were a Canadian he would\nnow be singing 'Britannia Rules the Wave!' No, I insist that he is an\nAmerican traveling Incog. I suspect that I have Caught him with the\nGoods. While sitting here, I have had my Sherlock Holmes System at work.\nA few Moments ago he read a Joke in a Comic Paper, and the Light of\nAppreciation kindled in his Eye before a full Minute had elapsed.\"\n\n[Illustration: PULLMAN CAR]\n\n\"Perhaps it was not a Comic Paper at all,\" said the First Traveler. \"It\nmay have been Punch. Very often an Englishman will Get Next almost\nimmediately if the Explanation is put in Parenthesis. You have to Hand\nit to him with a Diagram and a Map and then give him a little Time, and\nthen he Drops. This man is certainly an Englishman. Notice the\nExpression of Disapproval. He does not fancy our Farm Scenery. Get onto\nthe Shoes, too. They are shaped like Muffins. Then if you are still in\nDoubt, pay attention to the Accent. Didn't you hear him just now when he\nwas complaining to the Porter because the Sun was on the wrong side of\nthe Car?\"\n\n\"Yes, but did you hear him use 'Cahn't' and 'Glass' both in the same\nSentence? When a Man Plays it Both Ways, it is a Sign that he was born\nin Wisconsin and attended Harvard. I am convinced that he is not an\nEnglishman at all. He is probably an American who takes a Bahth in a\nBath-Tub.\"\n\nBut the First Traveler persisted that surely the Man across the aisle\nwas an Englishman, so they Jawed back and forth and finally made a Bet.\nThen the First Traveler stepped over and begged the Stranger's Pardon\nand asked him, as a personal favor, to Identify himself. Was he an\nEnglishman or an American?\n\n\"Really, that is a Hard Question to answer,\" said the Surprised\nStranger. \"I confess with some Mortification that Father was an\nAmerican, but he wore Detachable Cuffs and talked about Live Stock at\nthe Table, so the Heirs are trying to Forget him. As nearly as we can\nlearn, one of my Ancestors came to this Country from Yorkshire early in\nthe Eighteenth Century and founded a Tannery in Massachusetts, so I feel\nthat I can claim an English Birthright, regardless of the intervening\nAncestors. My Claim is strengthened by the Fact that our Family has a\nRegular Coat-of-Arms. Everybody had forgotten about it for over Seven\nHundred Years until Sister and I hired a Man to find it. Sister is now\nLady Frost-Simpson and lives on the Other Side. When she discovered his\nLordship he was down to his last Dickey. She took him out of Hock, and\nhe is so Grateful that sometimes he lets me come and Visit them. I have\nseen the Prince.\"\n\n[Illustration: ANCESTOR]\n\n\"Then you are an Englishman?\" queried the Traveler who had Bet that way.\n\n\"It is not admitted in London,\" was the sorrowful Reply. \"Sometimes if\nFrost-Simpson has to come Home for Money while I am visiting Sister, he\nputs me up at the Clubs and all the Chaps seem to think I am an\nAmerican. I try to be exactly like them, but I fail. They say I have an\nAccent, although I have been working all my Life to overcome it. I have\nnot used the word 'Guess' for many Years.\"\n\n\"Yours is a Sad Case,\" remarked the Second Traveler. \"Why do you ever\ncome back?\"\n\n\"To collect my Income,\" was the Reply. \"Isn't it a Bore? Rents and all\nthat sort of Rot, you know.\"\n\n\"But you have not settled the Bet,\" said one of the Persistent\nTravelers. \"Are you a Yankee?\"\n\n\"I have never Admitted it, and I cannot do so now,\" said the\nBrother-in-Law of Lord Frost-Simpson. \"At the same time, it is on Record\nthat I was born at Pontiac, Michigan. Of course, you know What I am\nStriving to be. But there must be a Handicap somewhere. During the Two\nHundred Years in which my Ancestors temporarily resided in the States,\nthey must have absorbed some of the Characteristics of this Uncouth and\nVulgar People, and as a Result the Sins of the Father are visited upon\nthe Child even to the third and fourth Generations, and I cannot hold a\nMonocle in my Eye to save my Life. I live Abroad, and strive to Forget,\nand work hard to be just like the other Fellows, but I do not seem to\nArrive. Even in this Beastly Country, where the Imitation Article\nusually passes current as the Real Thing, there seems to be some Doubt\nas to my Case, seeing that you two Persons have made this Bet.\nConcerning the Bet, I fear that I am unable to Decide it. I do not know\nWhat I am.\"\n\n\"I know What you are,\" said the First Traveler, \"but I do not dare to\ntell you right here in the Car, because the Pullman Company has a Rule\nagainst the use of such Language.\"\n\nSo they declared the Bet off and went forward and sat in the Day Coach.\n\nMORAL: _Be Something_.\n\n\n\n\n_THE_ FABLE _OF THE_ ADULT GIRL WHO GOT BUSY BEFORE THEY COULD RING\n_THE_ BELL _ON_ HER\n\n\nOnce upon a Time there was a Lovely and Deserving Girl named Clara, who\nwas getting so near Thirty that she didn't want to Talk about it.\nEverybody had a Good Word for her. She traveled with the Thoroughbreds,\nand was always Among Those Present; so it was hard to understand why she\nhadn't Married. Other Girls not as Good-Looking or Accomplished had been\ngrabbed off while they were Buds. Already some of them were beginning to\nact as Chaperons for Clara. They were keeping Tab on Clara's Age, too,\nand began to think that she would land on the Bargain Counter, and have\nto be satisfied with a Widower who wore a Toupee and dyed his Eyebrows.\n\nClara was somewhat of a Mind-Reader. She knew that the Friends of her\nYouth were predicting a Hard Finish for her, so she decided to Fool\nthem. And she knew that it Behooved her to Catch On before the Children\nstarted in to call her Auntie.\n\nNow it is not to be inferred that Clara was what the Underwriters call a\nBad Risk. She never had been a Drug on the Market. When she went to a\nHop she did not have to wait for Ladies' Choice in order to swing into\nthe Mazy. In fact, she had been Engaged now and then, just for Practice,\nand she had received Offers from some of the holdover Bachelors who went\naround Proposing from Force of Habit. But Clara was not out for any man\nwho had been Turned Down elsewhere. She wanted the Right Kind, and she\nwas going to do the Picking herself.\n\nHaving made an Inventory of the Possibilities, she selected the\nTreasurer of the Shoe Factory, and decided that she could Love him\nwithout Straining herself. He was about her age, and was almost as\ngood-looking as a Gibson Man, and had A1 Prospects. It would be no Easy\nJob to Land him, however, because the Competition was very keen and he\nwas Wary, trying to be a Kind Friend to every Girl he knew, but playing\nno Favorites. He kept the Parents guessing. He had been Exposed to\nMatrimony so often without being Taken Down, that he was generally\nregarded as an Immune.\n\nClara got Busy with herself and hatched a Scheme. When all the Smart Set\ngot ready to pike away for the Heated Term, Clara surprised her Friends\nby guessing that she would remain at Home. It was a Nervy Thing to do,\nbecause all the Social Head-Liners who could command the Price were\nsupposed to flit off to a Summer Hotel, and loiter on the Pine Veranda\nand try to think they were Recuperating.\n\nClara told her Mother to go, as usual, but she would stay at Home and be\na Companion to poor lonesome Papa. So all the Women went away to the\nResorts with their Cameras and Talcum Powder and Witch Hazel, and Clara\nwas left alone in Town with the Men.\n\n[Illustration: CLARA]\n\nIt is a Traditional Fact that there is no Social Life in Town during the\nDog Days. But there is nothing to prevent a Bright Girl from Starting\nSomething. That is what Clara did.\n\nShe stocked up the Refrigerator, and hung a Hammock on the Lawn with a\nfew Easy Chairs around it. The Young Men marooned in Town heard of the\nGood Thing, and no one had to tear their Garments to induce them to\ncome. They arrived at the rate of from Seven to Twelve a Night, and\ndipped into Papa's Cigars and the Liquid Nourishment, regardless.\nAlthough Clara had remained in town to act as Companion to Papa, it was\nnoticed that when she had all the Company in the Evening, Papa either\nhad been Chloroformed and put to Bed or else he had his Orders to stay\nUnder Cover.\n\nClara did not send for the Treasurer of the Shoe Factory. She knew\nbetter than to go out after her Prey. She allowed him to find his Way to\nthe House with the others. When he came, she did not chide him for\nfailing to make his Party Call; neither did she rush toward him with a\nLow Cry of Joy, thereby tipping her Hand. She knew that the Treasurer of\nthe Shoe Factory was Next to all these Boarding School Tactics, and\ncould not be Handled by the Methods that go with the College Students.\nClara had enjoyed about ten years' Experience in handling the Creatures,\nand she had learned to Labor and to Wait. She simply led him into the\nCircle and took his Order, and allowed him to sit there in the Gloaming\nand observe how Popular she was. All the men were Scrapping to see who\nwould be Next to sit in the Hammock with her. It looked for a while as\nif Clara would have to give out Checks, the same as in a Barber Shop.\nLate that night when the Men walked homeward together, they remarked\nthat Clara was a Miserable Hostess, they didn't think.\n\nNext Evening the Treasurer of the Shoe Factory was back on the Lawn. So\nwere all the Others. They said there was no beating a Place where you\ncould play Shirt-Waist Man under the Trees, and have a Fairy Queen in\nWhite come and push Cold Drinks at you and not have to sign any Ticket.\nThey composed flattering Songs about Clara, and every time she moved\nthere was a Man right there with a Sofa Cushion to help her to be\nComfortable.\n\n[Illustration: HIGH-SCHOOL CADET]\n\nIn the mean time, the Other Girls out at the Summer Resorts were doing\nthe best they could with these High School Cadets, wearing Tidies around\ntheir Hats, who would rather go out in a Cat-Boat and get their arms\ntanned than remain on Shore and win the Honest Love of an American Girl,\nwith a String to it.\n\nClara's work about this time was ever so Glossy. She began by asking the\nTreasurer of the Shoe Factory to come with her to the Refrigerator to\nget out some more Imported Ginger Ale. All the men Volunteered to help,\nand two or three wanted to Tag along, but Clara drove them back.\n\nThey were gone a Long Time, because the Treasurer had to draw all the\nCorks, and they Fussed around together in the Pantry fixing up a Lunch\nfor the Boys. Clara told him how Strong and Handy he was, until he felt\nan increase in his Chest Measurement.\n\nOn successive evenings she had the Treasurer supervise all the\nArrangements. The Hired Girl had every Evening off, because it was so\nmuch more Jolly to go out and run the place yourself. In less than a\nWeek the Treasurer was giving Orders around the House. She would get him\nback to the Kitchen and tie an Apron around him and ask what she should\ndo next. She made him out to be the Only One who could be Trusted. The\nothers were Company, but he was like one of the Family. And although he\nwas being Worked like Creamery Butter, he never Suspected.\n\nHer Game was to Domesticate him in Advance, and let him have a Foretaste\nof what it is to be Boss of your own House, except as to the Bills. The\nPantry was full of Home Delicacies such as he couldn't get at the Hotel,\nand the Service was the best ever. Clara was right at his Elbow with a\nWilling Smile.\n\nIt didn't take him long to realize that he was missing a lot by\nremaining Single. He wondered why he had been so slow in getting on to\nClara's Good Points. Also he wondered if it was any Open-and-Shut\nCertainty when a dozen other Men, some of them Younger and more Gallus,\nwere after her in Full Cry.\n\nClara had him Pulled In, Strung and Hung over the side of the Boat.\n\nOf course if all the other Girls had been in Town, they would have\nTumbled long before it ran into a Certainty, and probably they would\nhave formed a V and rushed in to break up the Play. But the other Girls\nwere Far Away with the Old Men and the Seminary Striplings. Clara had an\nOpen Field, with no need of any Interfering or Blocking, and if she Fell\nDown it was her own Fault. Besides, she had all these other Admirers set\nout as Decoys to prove that if he didn't, somebody else might.\n\nThe Treasurer of the Shoe Factory got a large Rally on himself, and she\nhad to Give In and make a Promise.\n\nHe loves to tell Callers how he proposed to his Wife in the Kitchen, and\nhe doesn't know to this Day that she was Expecting it.\n\nMORAL: _As soon as he begins to Frequent the Back Rooms of the House,\nmeasure him for the Harness_.\n\n\n\n\n_THE_ FABLE _OF THE_ MAN-GRABBER WHO WENT OUT _OF_ HIS CLASS\n\n\nWhile standing in front of his Store, between two Dummies in Seersucker\nSuits, one of the Chosen People spotted a Good Thing that resembled a\nThree-Sheet of the Old Homestead. It was looking up at the Top Stories\nand bumping against Hydrants and Unsurpassed Coffee Bulletins. The flip\nYahooda, with the City Education and Thirty Centuries of Commercial\nTraining to back him up, saw that here was a Chance to work off some Old\nStock. So when the mild old Gentleman with the strawcolored Sluggers and\nthe Freckles on his Wrists came near enough, he Closed with him and told\nhim to come inside and look at a New Style called the McKinley Overcoat\nbecause the President had one just like it.\n\nUncle Eck replied that he did not really need an Overcoat, as he had\ntraded for one only a few Seasons before, but he was willing to go in\nand Look Around, and if he did not buy anything he reckoned there\nwouldn't be any Hard Feelings. Accordingly he walked straight into the\nTrap and permitted Mr. Zangwill to show him an Assortment of Shoddy\nGarments fastened together with Mucilage. The Crafty Merchant came down\nfrom $38 to $6.50, and showed him a Confidential Letter from his Cousin\nSig to prove that the Goods had been Smuggled in, but old Peaceful\nValley refused to Bite. He allowed the Proprietor to talk himself out,\nand then he walked up and down the Counters, careless-like, to see what\nwas on the Shelves, and he did some quiet Figuring in a Memorandum Book\nsuch as they give away at Drug Stores. Before he left he had Traded 20\nAcres of flinty Hillside in New Hampshire for the Clothing Store, the\nMortgage on the Land to be Assumed by the New Owner, and he had $75 to\nBoot and an Agreement in Writing.\n\n[Illustration: THE TRAPPER]\n\nThe Hauler-In is now Clerking and trying to Hold Out enough to give him\nanother Start.\n\nMORAL: _Lower Broadway is not New England_.\n\n\n\n\n_THE_ FABLE _OF THE_ INVETERATE JOKER WHO REMAINED _IN_ MONTANA\n\n\nThe Subject of this Fable started out in Life as a Town Cut-Up. He had a\nkeen Appreciation of Fun, and was always playing Jokes. If he wanted a\nfew Gum-Drops he would go into the Candy Store and get them, and then\nask the Man if he was willing to take Stamps. If the Man said he was,\nthen the Boy would stamp a couple of times, which meant that the Laugh\nwas on the Man. It was considered a Great Sell in Those Parts.\n\nOr else he would go into a Grocery with another tricky Tad and get some\nArticle of Value, and they would pretend to Quarrel as to which should\nPay for it. One would ask the Proprietor if he cared who paid for it,\nand if he said he did not, they would up and tell him to Pay for it\nHimself. This one was so Cute that they had a little Piece in the Paper\nabout it.\n\nOr they would go and Purchase a Watermelon to be paid for as soon as a\nBet was decided, and afterward it would Develop that the Bet was whether\nthe Saw-Mill would fall to the East or the West, in case the Wind blew\nit over.\n\nIt was Common Talk that the Boy was Sharp as a Tack and Keen as a Brier\nand a Natural-Born Humorist.\n\nOnce he sold a Calf to the Butcher, several Hours after the Calf had\nbeen struck by Lightning. As for ordering Goods and having them charged\nto his Father, that was one of the Slickest Things he ever did.\n\nAbout the time the Joker was old enough to leave Home, he traveled out\nthrough the Country selling Bulgarian Oats to the Farmers. When the\nContract for the Seed Oats got around to the Bank, it proved to be an\niron-clad and double-riveted Promissory Note. The Farmer always tried to\nget out of Paying it, but when the Case came to Trial and the Jurors\nheard how the Agent palavered the Hay-Seed they had to Snicker right out\nin Court. They always gave Judgment for the Practical Joker, who would\ntake them out and buy Cigars for them, and they would hit him on the\nBack and tell him he was a Case.\n\nOne Day the Joker had an Inspiration, and he had to tell it to a Friend,\nwho also was something of a Wag.\n\nThey bought a Cat-Tail Swamp remote from Civilization and divided it\ninto Building Lots. The Marsh was Advertised as a Manufacturing Suburb,\nand they had side-splitting Circulars showing the Opera House, the Drill\nFactory, Public Library, and the Congregational Church. Lots were sold\non the Instalment Plan to Widows, Cash-Boys, and Shirt-Factory Girls who\nwanted to get Rich in from fifteen to twenty Minutes.\n\nThe Joker had a Lump of Bills in every Pocket. If asked how he made his\nRoll, he would start to Tell, and then he would Choke Up, he was so full\nof Laugh. He certainly had a Sunny Disposition.\n\n[Illustration: MANUFACTURING SUBURB]\n\nFinally he went to the State of Montana. He believed he could have a\nSeason of Merriment by depositing some Valuable Ore in a Deserted Mine,\nand then selling the Mine to Eastern Speculators. While he was Salting\nthe Mine, pausing once in a while to Control his Mirth, a few Natives\ncame along, and were Interested. They were a slow and uncouth Lot, with\nan atrophied Sense of Humor, and the Prank did not Appeal to them. They\nasked the Joker to Explain, and before he could make it Clear to them or\nconsult his Attorney they had him Suspended from a Derrick. He did not\nHang straight enough to suit, so they brought a Keg of Nails and tied to\nhis Feet, and then stood off and Shot at the Buttons on the Back of his\nCoat.\n\nMORAL: _Don't Carry a Joke too far, and never Carry it into Montana_.\n\n\n\n\n_THE_ FABLE _OF THE_ CRUEL INSULT _AND THE_ ARRIVAL _OF THE_ LOVER FROM\nNO. 6\n\n\nOne Morning there came into the Dining Room of the Peerless Hotel at\nWelby's Junction an English Tourist and the Advance Agent of the Mabel\nMooney Repertoire Company.\n\nThey took their Places at the Table underneath a Chromo representing a\nPyramid of Idealized Fruit. The Table was covered with Sail Cloth, and\nin the Center was the Corroded Caster, which gave out a Sound similar to\nthat of the Galloping Horse in the War Drama whenever any one walked\nacross the Floor.\n\nThe English Traveler appeared to have received Bad News from Home, but\nhe had not. That was the Normal Expression. His Mustache was long and\nwilted. Also the Weary Look around the Eyes. He traveled with a Cowhide\nBag that must have used up at least one Cow. The Clothes he wore\nevidently had been cut from a Steamer Rug by his Mother, or some other\nAged Relative suffering from Astigmatism. He had been Sleeping in them.\n\nAs for the Second Traveler, he was an Advance Agent.\n\n\"Cheer Up,\" said the Advance Agent to the English Tourist. \"It may not\nbe True, and if it is True it may be for the Best.\"\n\nThe English Tourist made no Response, fearing that his Fellow-Traveler\nmight be In Trade.\n\n[Illustration: TOURIST]\n\nThen the One that waited on the Table did the Glide from behind a\nScreen.\n\nShe was very Pale, up to a certain Point.\n\nPausing about six feet from the English Tourist she looked resolutely at\na Knot-Hole in the Floor and said:\n\n\"Beefsteakliverhamand.\"\n\n\"My Good Woman,\" said the Man from Stoke-on-Tritham, just as if he meant\nto Prorogue something. \"I should like a Rasher of Bacon, and have it\nJolly Well Done.\"\n\n\"Ain't got no Bacon,\" she replied, feeling of her Brooch.\n\n\"Dyuh-me! Then I should like some Boiled Eggs, and mind that they are\nFresh.\"\n\n\"I'll give you Regular Aigs,\" she said, lifting her Head proudly, for\nshe was no Serf.\n\n\"Approach me, Kit,\" said the Advance Agent, with gentle Voice.\n\n\"Is tha-a-at so-o-o?\" she asked. \"I'll have you know, Smarty, my name\nain't Kit. So There!\"\n\n\"Well, make it Genevieve,\" said the Advance Agent. \"Come close and hold\nmy Hand while I give you this Order. And merely as one Friend speaking\nto another, I want to tell you that the Blending under the Left Ear is\nvery poor, and if you are not careful somebody will Sign you as a\nSpotted Girl.\"\n\n\"My Mother was a Lady,\" she said.\n\n\"That being the Case, I would like to have you go out and Engage a nice\npiece of Liver for me. And if you show yourself to be real Winsome and\nChic I may be able to use you with the Troupe.\"\n\n\"Tea or Coffee?\"\n\n\"Don't tell me which one you bring and see if I can Guess. And I would\nlike some Actual Potatoes.\"\n\n\"I suppose, Sir, you think I have no Feelings.\"\n\n\"That is none of my Business,\" he replied. \"I am merely passing through\nyour Beautiful Little City.\"\n\n\"I wish Edmund was here,\" said she.\n\n\"So do I,\" assented the Advance Agent, promptly. \"If he can wait on the\nTable I wish he was here. Now see if you can make the Kitchen in two\nJumps.\"\n\n[Illustration: ADVANCE AGENT]\n\n\"He'd show you if you could get Flossy with a Lady, even though she\nWorks.\"\n\n\"You are about to lose your Tip, standing around here trying to shoot it\nback at the Handsome Guest,\" remarked the Advance Agent. \"Has Edmund\nabout finished his Fall Plowing?\"\n\n\"He don't do no Fall Plowing,\" was the Bitter Reply. \"He Fires on Number\nSix.\"\n\nAt that Moment there entered a Railroad Boy with Braid on his Clothes\nand Coal-Dust on his Neck. He removed the Cap that had rested on his\nflanging Ears and sat at the Table with the Advance Agent and the\nEnglish Tourist.\n\n\"Feed me Everything, with One in the Light to come along,\" he said. \"If\nany of the Cockroaches ask for me, tell them I'm for all Night with the\nYellow Rattlers, and laid out at Winona.\"\n\nThe English Tourist was holding his Head.\n\n\"I guess you won't carry on so Gay since he's come,\" said the Sensitive\nWaitress, addressing the Advance Agent.\n\n\"Did he Call you Down?\" asked Edmund, the Loving Fireman, glancing at\nthe Advance Agent.\n\n\"He used me like I was the Dirt under his Feet,\" she replied, placing\nher Hand on her Breast and biting her Lower Lip.\n\n\"Well, it's a Good Thing,\" said Edmund. \"You've needed a few of them\nJolts ever since you had your Hand read by the Gypsy and started to read\nthat Bertha Clay Book. It's a good thing to have a Strong Josher come\nalong now and then, just to show you Proud Dolls how to take a Joke. Do\nI Eat?\"\n\nThe Sensitive Waitress hurried Away, feeling hurt.\n\n\"Overlook all the Phoney Acting by the Little Lady, Bud,\" said the\nFireman to the Advance Agent. \"She's only twenty-seven.\"\n\nProducing a small Note-Book, the English Traveler said: \"Gentlemen, I\nregard this Incident as Most Extraordinary and somewhat Mystifying. I\nfear that I am not sufficiently acquainted with your Vernacular to grasp\nthe full Purport of what has occurred here. Will you Explain it to me?\"\n\n[Illustration: WORKING GIRL]\n\n\"Did you notice the Ingenue that guaranteed you the Regular Eggs,\" asked\nthe Advance Agent.\n\n\"You mean the Young Woman who was here a moment ago?\"\n\n\"That's the Party! You saw her?\"\n\n\"Certainly.\"\n\n\"Now, I'll tell you all about it, if you promise not to put it in your\nBook.\"\n\n\"Really, you know, I had intended to Use it,\" said the Traveler.\n\n\"All right, then; put it in, but don't use any Names. This is Under the\nRose, remember. The Proud Working Girl that was in here just now is my\nSister.\"\n\nAnd the Englishman was deeply Perplexed.\n\nMORAL: _Brothers in Name only._\n\n\n\n\n_THE_ FABLE _OF THE_ LODGE FIEND, _AND THE_ DELILAH TRICK PLAYED _BY_\nHIS WIFE\n\n\nA Woman who had done nothing to Deserve it was the Wife of a Joiner. He\nwas the K.G. of one Benevolent Order and the Worshipful High Guy of\nsomething else, and the Senior Warden of the Sons of Patoosh, and a lot\nmore that she couldn't keep track of.\n\nWhen he got on all of his Pins he had Sousa put away.\n\nNight after Night he was off to a Hall up a Dark Stairway to land some\nUnfortunate into the Blue Lodge or the Commandery or else Over the Hot\nSands.\n\nHe carried at least twenty Rituals in his Head, and his Hands were all\ntwisted out of Shape from giving so many different Grips.\n\nIn the Morning when he came out of the House he usually found some one\nwaiting on the Door-Step to give him the Sign of Distress and work the\nfraternal Pan-Handle on him. He subscribed for the Magazines that were\nfull of these sparkling Chapter Reports, and after that, if he had not\nspent all his money going to Conclaves and Grand Lodge Meetings, he paid\nDues and Assessments and bought Uniforms. He had one Suit in particular,\nwith Frogs and Cords and Gold Braid strung around over the Front of it,\nand then a Helmet with about a Bushel of Red Feathers. When he got into\nthis Rig and strapped on his Jeweled Sword he wouldn't have traded\nPlaces with Nelson A. Miles.\n\nHis Wife often said that he ought not to leave her and take up with a\nGoat, and that she could use on Groceries some of the Coin that he was\ndevoting to Velvet Regalia and Emblematic Watch-Charms, but he always\ntried to make it Right with her by explaining that he had Insurance in\nmost of these Whispering Organizations, so that she and the Children\nwould come in for a whole Wad of Money. The Wife thought it was too long\nto wait. He seemed to be in a Fair Way to live another Century and keep\non paying Assessments.\n\nThere was no use in Arguing with him. When a Man gets to be a confirmed\nJoiner he is not Happy unless he can get into an unlighted Room two or\nthree Nights a Week, and wallop the Neophyte with a Stuffed Club, and\nwalk him into a Tub of Water, and otherwise Impress him with the\nSolemnity of the Ordeal.\n\nThe real Joiner loves to sit up on an elevated Throne, wearing a Bib and\nholding a dinky Gavel, and administer a blistering Oath to the Wanderer\nwho seeks the Privilege of helping to pay the Rent.\n\nTo a Man who does not cut very many Lemons around his own House, where\nthey are Onto him, it is a great Satisfaction to get up in a Lodge Hall\nand put on a lot of Ceremonial Dog, and have the Members kneel in front\nof him and Salute him as the Exalted Sir Knight.\n\n[Illustration: THE JOINER]\n\nYou take a Man who is Plugging along on a Salary, and who has to answer\nthe 'Phone and wrap up Tea all Day, and let him go out at Night and be\nan Exalted Sir, and it helps him to feel that he isn't such a Nine-Spot\nafter all.\n\nNow this particular Joiner wanted to be up on a carpeted Dais every\nblessed Evening, having the Brothers march in front of him and give him\nthe High Office. His Wife, being unacquainted with the Secrets of the\nLodge Room, was unable to understand why he was so Fascinated with the\nLife. She was exceedingly Inquisitive and often tried to Pump him by the\nmost Artful Methods, but of course he did not dare to Divulge or his\nRight Arm would have Withered and his Tongue would have Cleaved to the\nRoof of his Mouth, and he would have been an Outcast on the Face of the\nEarth, despised by all other Members of the Royal Tararum. Now and then\nhe Talked in his Sleep, and she caught Expressions in regard to Branding\nhim on the Other Leg or putting him back into the Coffin, and her\nCuriosity was intensified.\n\nOne day she read in a Veracious Newspaper that if the Left Hand of a\nSleeping Person be immersed in Tepid Water, then the Sleeper will\ntruthfully answer any Question that may be asked. She resolved to try it\non her Husband. She was dying to know what they Said and Did at Lodge\nMeetings that would keep a Man away from Home so many Nights in the\nWeek.\n\nThat Night after he had come home from the Odd Fellows and passed into\nSlumber she crept out and took a Low Advantage of him. She slid his Left\nHand into a bowl of Warm Water without arousing him, and he Gave Up. He\ntold all the Passwords, the Secret Mottoes, the Oaths, the Meaning of\nthe Symbols and the Unwritten Work. When he had finished she had a\nNotion to Ring for a Night Cab and go Home to her own Family, but her\nBetter Judgment prevailed. She concluded that she would have to continue\nto Live with him, no matter what she Thought of him.\n\nShe never dared to tell that she Knew, and he never Suspected. Husband\nnever guessed why it was that when he started out for an Evening with\nthe Skeletons and the Candidates she stood back and smiled at him more\nin Pity than in Anger.\n\nMORAL: _It's a Good Thing they don't Know_.\n\n\n\n\n_THE_ FABLE _OF THE_ APPREHENSIVE SPARROW _AND_ HER DAILY ESCAPE\n\n\nOnce there was a Proper little Female who Fluttered and was interested\nin Movements. She was born the Year that Fremont ran against Buchanan.\nAll she knew about Spooning was what she had Read in Ella Wheeler\nWilcox. Time and again she said that if a Man ever attempted to Take\nLiberties with her, she knew she would Die of Mortification. At Last\nReports she was Living, but she had Courted Death at least Fifteen\nHundred Times.\n\nIf a Strange Man came up behind her while she was walking Homeward in\nthe Dusk, she always gave a Timid Glance behind and Hurried, suspecting\nthat he would Overtake her and seize her by both Wrists and tell her not\nto Scream. She would reach her own Door and lean against it, almost in a\nSwoon, and the Strange Man would pass by, softly Humming to Himself.\n\nOccasionally an Adventurer with Coal-Black Eyes and a Suspicious Manner\nwould come and sit right beside her in a Car, evidently for some\nPurpose, and she would close her Lips tightly and resolve to do a Steve\nBrodie out of the Window if she saw his Hand slipping over toward Hers.\nFortunately, the man kept his Eyes on the Sporting Page and made no\nMove.\n\nIf she happened to be in the Waiting-Room at the Station, and a coarse\nbut masterful Claim Agent, or some one else equally Terrifying, happened\nto come across the Room at her, she could feel her Little Heart stand\nstill, and she would say, \"This is where I get it.\" After he had gone\npast, on his way to the Check-Room, she would put some Camphor on her\nHandkerchief and declare to Goodness that never again would she start\nout to Travel unless she had some Older Person with her.\n\n[Illustration: THE SPARROW]\n\nMore than once when she was at Home, with only a few other Persons\naround the House, she saw a Large Man come up the Front Steps, and she\nwould be Frozen with Terror, and could see herself being lifted into a\nClosed Carriage by the Brutal Confederates. She would slip a Pair of\nScissors under her Apron and creep to the Front Door, prepared to Resist\nwith all her Girlish Strength, and the Man would have to talk to her\nthrough the Door, and ask where they wanted the Coal delivered.\n\nNow and then a Caller would find her Reviving herself with a Cup of Tea.\n\nThe Caller would say: \"Madge, Child, you are as Pale as a Ghost.\"\n\nMadge would reply: \"Oh, I have just had such a Turn! I was out watering\nthe Nasturtiums, when a Man in a Crash Suit came along the Street and\nlooked right at me. The Gate was open, and there was nothing to prevent\nhim from coming right in and Getting me.\"\n\nThe Appalled Visitor would want to know what became of him, and Madge\nwould explain that he turned at the Next Corner, and she had been as\nWeak as a Cat ever since.\n\nOn her Shopping Expeditions she noticed Dozens of Men, apparently\nTrailing right along after her, and she knew that her only Salvation was\nto look straight ahead and indicate by her Bearing that she was no\nFlirt. By so doing she eluded many a one who wanted to Catch Step with\nher and begin a Conversation.\n\nThe Collected Stories of her Successful but Hair-Breadth Escapes from\nMen of the World, who seemed to Forget that all Women were not Alike,\nwould have filled a Volume bigger than the Family Medicine Book.\n\nHappily, no one ever went Quite So Far. She invariably Escaped.\n\nMORAL: _Don't Worry._\n\n\n\n\n_THE_ FABLE _OF THE_ REGULAR CUSTOMER _AND THE_ COPPER-LINED ENTERTAINER\n\n\nOne day the Main Works of a Wholesale House was Jacking Up the Private\nSecretary and getting ready to close his desk for the Day, when in blew\na Country Customer. The Head of the Concern would have given Seven\nDollars if he could have got out and caught the Elevated before the\nCountry Customer showed up. However, he was Politic, and he knew he must\nnot throw down a Buyer who discounted his Bills and was good as Old\nWheat. So he gave a Correct Imitation of a Man who is tickled nearly to\nDeath. After calling the Country Customer \"Jim,\" he made him sit down\nand tell him about the Family, and the Crops, and Collections, and the\nProspects for Duck-Shooting. Then, selecting an opportune moment, he\nthrew up Both Hands. He said he had almost forgotten the Vestry Meeting\nat Five O'clock, and going out to Dinner at Six-Thirty. He was about to\nCall Off the Vestry Meeting, the Dinner, and all other Engagements for a\nWeek to come, but Jim would not Listen to it. As a Compromise the Head\nof the Concern said he would ask their Mr. Byrd to take charge of the\nCountry Customer. They could surely find some Way of putting in the\nEvening. He said the Oratorio Club war going to sing at Music Hall, and\nalso there was a Stereopticon Lecture on India. Jim said he would prefer\nthe Stereopticon Show, because he loved to look at Pictures.\n\nThe Head of the Concern said that the Country Customer would be sure to\nlike their Mr. Byrd. Everybody liked Byrd. His Full Name was Mr. Knight\nByrd.\n\nHe pushed on a few Buttons and blew into several snaky Tubes and put the\nwhole Shop on the Jump to find Mr. Byrd. The latter happened to be in a\nRathskeller not far away. When he heard that there was Work to be done\nin his Department he brushed away the Crumbs and Hot-Footed up to see\nthe Boss.\n\nIn presenting Mr. Byrd to the Country Customer the Head of the Concern\nlaid it on with a Shovel. He said that Jim Here was his Friend, and the\nHouse considered it an Honor to Entertain him. The Country Customer sat\nthere feeling Sheepish and Unworthy but a good deal Puffed Up just the\nsame. Then the Head of the Firm made his Escape and the Country Customer\nwas in the Hands of Mr. Byrd.\n\nMr. Byrd was known in the Establishment as the Human Expense Account. No\none had ever accused him of being a Quitter. He was supposed to be\nHollow inside. Whenever any Friend of the Firm showed up, Mr. Byrd was\ncalled upon to take charge of him and Entertain him to a Stand-Still.\nThe Boss was troubled with Dyspepsia, and Conscientious Scruples, and a\nGrowing Family, and a few other Items that prevented him from going out\nat Night with the Visiting Trade. He had it arranged to give each one of\nthem a choice Mess of Beautiful Language and then pass him along to Mr.\nByrd.\n\nMr. Byrd was a Rosy and Red-Headed Gentleman, with a slight Overhang\nbelow the Shirt Front. He breathed like a Rusty Valve every time he had\nto go up a Stairway, but he had plenty of Endurance of another Kind. For\nYears he had been playing his Thirst against his Capacity, and it was\nstill a Safe Bet, whichever Way you wanted to place your Money. His\nBatting Average was about Seven Nights to the Week. He discovered that\nAlcohol was a Food long before the Medical Journals got onto it.\n\nMr. Byrd's chief value to the Wholesale House lay in the Fact that he\ncould Meet all Comers and close up half the Places in Town, and then\nshow up next Morning with a Clean Collar and a White Carnation, and send\nin word to lead out another Country Customer.\n\nMr. Byrd's first Move was to take Jim to a Retreat that was full of\nStatuary and Paintings. It was owned by a gray-haired Beau named Bob,\nwho was a Ringer for a United States Senator, all except the White Coat.\nBob wanted to show them a new Tall One called the Mamie Taylor, and\nafter they had Sampled a Couple Jim said it was all right and he\nbelieved he would take one. Then he told Bob how much he had taken in\nthe Year before and what his Fixtures cost him, and if anybody didn't\nthink he was Good they could look him up in Bradstreet or Dun, that was\nall. He said he was a Gentleman, and that no Cheap Skate in a Plug Hat\ncould tell him where to Get Off. This last Remark was intended for an\ninoffensive Person who had slipped in to get a Rhine Wine and Seltzer,\nand was pronging about Forty Cents' Worth of Lunch.\n\nThey got around Jim and Quieted him, and Mr. Byrd suggested that they go\nand Eat something before they got too Busy. The Country Customer would\nnot leave the Art Buffet until Bob had promised to come down and Visit\nhim sometime. When they got into the Street again the Country Customer\nnoticed that all the Office Buildings were set on the Bias, and they\nwere introducing a new style of spiral Lamp-Post.\n\nThey dined at a Palm-Garden that had Padding under the Table-Cloth and a\nHungarian Orchestra in the Corner. Mr. Byrd ordered Eleven Courses, and\nthen asked Jim what Kind he usually had with his Dinner. This is an\nAwful Question to pop at a Man who has been on Rain Water and Buttermilk\nall his Life. Jim was not to be Fazed. He said that he never ordered any\nParticular Label for fear People might think he was an Agent. That was\nthe Best Thing that Jim said all Evening.\n\nMr. Byrd told the Waiter to stand behind Jim and keep Busy. When Jim\nbegan to Make Signs that he could not Stand any more, the Entertainer\ntold him to Inhale it and rub it in his Hair.\n\n[Illustration: \"HOORAY! HOORAY!\"]\n\nAlong toward Dessert Jim was talking in the Tone used by Muggsy McGraw\nwhen he is Coaching the Man who is Playing Off from Second. He was\ntelling how much he Loved his Wife. She would have been Pleased to hear\nit.\n\nMr. Byrd paid a Check that represented One Month's Board down where Jim\nlived. They fell into a Horseless Hansom and went to see the Hity-Tity\nVariety and Burlesque Aggregation in a new Piece entitled \"Hooray!\nHooray!\" Jim sat in a Box for the First Time, and wanted to throw Money\non the Stage. The Head Usher had to come around once in a while to ask\nhim not to let his Feet hang over, and to remember that the Company\ncould do all the Singing without any Help from him. Mr. Byrd sat back\nslightly Flushed and watched the Country Customer make a Show of\nhimself. It was an Old Story to him. He knew that the quiet School\nTrustee kind of a Man who goes Home at Sundown for 364 Days in the Year,\nwith the Morning Steak and a Roll of Reading Matter under his Arm, is\nthe worst Indian in the World when he does find himself among the Tall\nHouses and gets it Up his Nose.\n\nHe allowed Jim to stand and Yell when the Chorus struck the Grand\nFinale, and a little later on, when they had chartered a low-necked\nCarriage and Jim wanted to get up and Drive, he Stood for it, although\nhe had to make a Pretty Talk to a couple of Policemen before he landed\nJim at the Hotel.\n\nIf this were a Novel, there would be a Row of Stars inserted right here.\n\nThe Sun was high in the Heavens when the Country Customer opened his\nEyes and tried to Remember and then tried to Forget. Some one was\nsitting at his Bedside. It was Mr. Byrd, the Long-Distance Entertainer,\nlooking as Sweet and Cool as a Daisy.\n\n\"Before I give you the Photograph of Myself which you requested last\nNight, would you care for anything in the way of Ice Water?\" he asked.\n\nJim did a sincere Groan, and said he could use a Barrel of it.\n\n\"Did I request a Photograph?\" he asked, as he felt for the Boundaries of\nhis Head.\n\n[Illustration: JIM]\n\n\"You did,\" replied the Entertainer. \"And you gave me your Watch as a\nKeepsake. I have brought the Watch and all the Money you had left after\nyou bought the Dog.\"\n\n\"What Dog?\"\n\n\"The Dog that you gave to Bob.\"\n\n\"Did we go back there again? I remember the First Time.\"\n\n\"Yes, it was In There that you wanted to Run a Hundred Yards with any\nMan Present for Chalk, Money, or Marbles.\"\n\n\"Where are we now--at the Hotel?\"\n\n\"Yes, and Everything is Smoothed Over. The Night Clerk has agreed not to\nswear out a Warrant.\"\n\nJim did not Comprehend, but he was afraid to Ask.\n\n\"It may be that I was a mite Polluted,\" he suggested.\n\n\"You were a teeny bit Pickled about Two, when you tried to upset the\nLunch Wagon, but I don't think any one Noticed it,\" said Mr. Byrd.\n\n\"Take me to the Noon Train,\" requested the Country Customer. \"Tell the\nConductor where I live, and send me the Bills for all that I have\nBroken.\"\n\n\"Everything is Settled,\" responded the Entertainer. \"But why Tear\nyourself away?\"\n\n\"I am Through,\" replied Jim, \"So why Tarry?\"\n\nMr. Byrd took him to the Train and arranged with the Porter of the\nParlor Car for a Pillow.\n\nWhen the Country Customer arrived at Home he accounted for the Eyes by\nsaying that the Night Traffic makes so much Noise on these Hard Stone\nPavements, it is almost impossible to get the usual amount of Sleep.\n\nThe Head of the Concern put his O.K. on a Voucher for $43.60, and it\noccurred to him that Stereopticon Lectures seemed to be Advancing, but\nhe asked no Questions.\n\nEver after that Jim bought all his Goods of this one House. He had to.\n\nMORAL: _Scatter Seeds of Kindness_.\n\n\n\n\n_THE_ FABLE _OF_ LUTIE, _THE_ FALSE ALARM, _AND_ HOW SHE FINISHED ABOUT\n_THE_ TIME _THAT_ SHE STARTED\n\n\nLutie was an Only Child. When Lutie was eighteen her Mother said they\nought to do something with Lutie's Voice. The Neighbors thought so, too.\nSome recommended killing the Nerve, while others allowed that it ought\nto be Pulled.\n\nBut what Mamma meant was that Lutie ought to have it Cultivated by a\nProfessor. She suspected that Lutie had a Career awaiting her, and would\ntravel with an Elocutionist some day and have her Picture on the\nProgramme.\n\nLutie's Father did not warm up to the Suggestion. He was rather Near\nwhen it came to frivoling away the National Bank Lithographs. But pshaw!\nThe Astute Reader knows what happens in a Family when Mother and the\nOnly Child put their Heads together to whipsaw the Producer. One Day\nthey shouldered him into a Corner and extorted a Promise. Next Day Lutie\nstarted to Take.\n\nShe bought a red leather Cylinder marked \"Music,\" so that people would\nnot take it to be Lunch. Every Morning about 9 o'clock she would wave\nthe Housework to one side and tear for a Trolley.\n\nHer Lessons cost the Family about twenty cents a Minute. She took them\nin a large Building full of Vocal Studios. People who didn't know used\nto stop in front of the Place and listen, and think it was a Surgical\nInstitute.\n\nThere were enough Soprani in this one Plant to keep Maurice Grau stocked\nup for a Hundred Years. Every one thought she was the Particular One who\nwould sooner or later send Melba back to Australia and drive Sembrich\ninto the Continuous. Lutie was just about as Nifty as the Next One.\n\nWhen she was at Home she would suck Lemons and complain about Draughts\nand tell why she didn't like the Other Girls' Voices. She began to act\nlike a Prima Donna, and her Mother was encouraged a Lot. Lutie certainly\nhad the Artistic Temperament bigger than a Church Debt.\n\nNow before Lutie started in to do Things to her Voice she occasionally\nHeld Hands with a Young Man in the Insurance Business, named Oliver.\nThis Young Man thought that Lutie was all the Merchandise, and she\nregarded him as Permanent Car-Fare.\n\nBut when Lutie began to hang out at the Studios she took up with the\nMusical Set that couldn't talk about anything but Technique and Shading\nand the Motif and the Vibrato. She began to fill up the Parlor with her\nnew Friends, and the first thing Oliver knew he was in the Side Pocket\nand out of the Game.\n\nIn his own Line this Oliver was as neat and easy-running as a Red Buggy,\nbut when you started him on the topic of Music he was about as light and\nspeedy as a Steam Roller. Ordinarily he knew how to behave himself in a\nFlat, and with a good Feeder to work back at him he could talk about\nShows and Foot-Ball Games and Things to Eat, but when any one tried to\ndraw him out on the Classics, he was unable to Qualify.\n\n[Illustration: LUTIE]\n\nWhen Lutie and her Musical acquaintances told about Shopan and Batoven\nhe would sit back so quiet that often he got numb below the Hips. He was\nafraid to move his Feet for fear some one would notice that he was still\nin the Parlor and ask him how he liked Fugue No. II, by Bock. He had\nnever heard of any of these People, because they did not carry Tontine\nPolicies with his Company.\n\nOliver saw that he would have to Scratch the Musical Set or else begin\nto Read Up, so he changed his Route. He canceled all Time with Lutie,\nand made other Bookings.\n\nLutie then selected for her Steady a Young Man with Hair who played the\n'Cello. He was so wrapped up in his Art that he acted Dopey most of the\ntime, and often forgot to send out the Laundry so as to get it back the\nsame Week. Furthermore, he didn't get to the Suds any too often. He\nnever Saw more than $3 at one time; but when he snuggled up alongside of\na 'Cello and began to tease the long, sad Notes out of it, you could\ntell that he had a Soul for Music. Lutie thought he was Great, but what\nLutie's Father thought of him could never get past the Censor. Lutie's\nFather regarded the whole Musical Set as a Fuzzy Bunch. He began to\nthink that in making any Outlay for Lutie's Vocal Training he had bought\na Gold Brick. When he first consented to her taking Lessons his Belief\nwas that after she had practiced for about one Term she would be able to\nsit up to the Instrument along in the Dusk before the Lamps were lit,\nand sing \"When the Corn is Waving, Annie Dear,\" \"One Sweetly Solemn\nThought,\" or else \"Juanita.\" These were the Songs linked in his Memory\nwith some Purple Evenings of the Happy Long Ago. He knew they were\nChestnuts, and had been called in, but they suited him, and he thought\nthat inasmuch as he had put up the Wherewith for Lutie's Lessons he\nought to have some kind of a Small Run for his Money.\n\nWould Lutie sing such Trash? Not she. She was looking for Difficult\nArias from the Italian, and she found many a one that was Difficult to\nsing, and probably a little more Difficult to Listen To.\n\nThe Voice began to be erratic, also. When father wanted to sit by the\nStudent's Lamp and read his Scribner's, she would decide to hammer the\nPiano and do the whole Repertoire.\n\nBut when Mother had Callers and wanted Lutie to Show Off, then she would\nhang back and have to be Coaxed. If she didn't have a Sore Throat, then\nthe Piano was out of Tune, or else she had left all of her Good Music at\nthe Studio, or maybe she just couldn't Sing without some one to\nAccompany her. But after they had Pleaded hard enough, and everybody was\nEmbarrassed and sorry they had come, she would approach the Piano\ntimidly and sort of Trifle with it for a while, and say they would have\nto make Allowances, and then she would Cut Loose and worry the whole\nBlock. The Company would sit there, every one showing the Parlor Face\nand pretending to be entranced, and after she got through they would\nCome To and tell her how Good she was.\n\nShe made so many of these Parlor Triumphs that there was no Holding her.\nShe had herself Billed as a Nightingale. Often she went to Soirees and\nClub Entertainments, volunteering her Services, and nowhere did she meet\na Well-Wisher who took her aside and told her she was a Shine--in fact,\nthe Champion Pest.\n\n[Illustration: CRITIC]\n\nNo, Lutie never got out of her Dream until she made a bold Sashay with a\nConcert Company. It was her Professional Debut.\n\nFather fixed it. The Idea of any one paying Real Money to hear Lutie\nsing struck him as being almost Good enough to Print. But she wouldn't\nbe Happy until she got it, and so she Got It right where the Newport\nLady wears the Rope of Pearls.\n\nOn the First Night the mean old Critics, who didn't know her Father or\nMother, and had never been entertained at the House, came and got in the\nFront Row, and defied Lutie to come on and Make Good. Next Morning they\nsaid that Lutie had Blow-Holes in her Voice; that she hit the Key only\nonce during the Evening, and then fell off backward; that she was a Ham,\nand her Dress didn't fit her, and she lacked Stage Presence. They\nexpressed Surprise that she should be attempting to Sing when any bright\nGirl could learn to pound a Type-Writer in Four Weeks. They wanted to\nknow who was responsible for her Appearance, and said it was a Shame to\nString these Jay Amateurs. Lutie read the Criticisms, and went into\nNervous Collapse. Her Mother was all Wrought Up, and said somebody ought\nto go and kill the Editors. Father bore up grimly.\n\nBefore Lutie was Convalescent he had the Difficult Italian Arias carted\nout of the house. The 'Cello Player came to call one Day, and he was\ngiven Minutes to get out of the Ward.\n\nBy the time Oliver looked in again Lutie was more than ready to pay some\nAttention to him. She is now doing a few quiet Vocalizations for her\nFriends. When some one who hasn't Heard tells her that she is good\nenough for Opera, they have to open the Windows and give her more Air.\n\nMORAL: _When in Doubt, try it on the Box-office_.\n\n\n\n\n_THE_ FABLE _OF THE_ COTILLON LEADER _FROM THE_ HUCKLEBERRY DISTRICT\n_WITH THE_ INTERMITTENT MEMORY\n\n\nA Young Man who had made a Sudden Winning, and was beginning to act as\nShawl-Holder and Emergency Errand-Boy for the Society Queens, seemed to\nhave a great deal of Trouble with his Memory. If he met Any One who had\nstarted with him a few Years before, and who used to Stake him to a\nMeal-Ticket now and then, or let him have a Scarf-Pin when he had to go\nout and make a Front, he could not appear to remember the Man's Name or\ntell where he had seen him before. When he was in a Loge at the\nPlay-House with Exclusive Ethel and her Friends, he might look down in\nthe Parquette and see the Landlady who had carried him through a Hard\nWinter and accepted a Graceful Wave of the Hand when she really needed\nthe Board Money, but he found it impossible to Place her. Even the\nPeople who came from his own Town, and who knew him when he was getting\nFive a Week and wearing Celluloid Cuffs, and who could relate the Family\nHistory if they wanted to Knock, they couldn't make him Remember, even\nwhen they stopped him on the Street and recalled such Humiliations as\nthe Time he used to pick Cherries on the Shares, and how Odd he looked\nin his Brother's Made-Over Clothes.\n\n[Illustration: AFFECTIONATE MASSAGE]\n\nThis Young Man buried the Dead Past until his Memory was a Blank for the\nwhole Period up to the Time that the President of the Fidelity National\ninvited him to Dinner and he got his first Peek at a sure-enough Butler.\n\nHe had been a Genuine Aristocrat for about Eighteen Months, when he made\na Mis-step and landed with his Face in the Gravel. The Gigantic\nEnterprise which he had been Promoting got into the Public Prints as a\nPipe Dream. There was no more Capital coming from the Angels. He was\nback at the Post, with nothing to Show for his Bold Dash except a\nWardrobe and an Appetite for French Cooking. Society gave him the Frozen\nFace, and all those who had been speaking of him as a Young Napoleon\nagreed that he was a Dub. The Banks were trying to Collect on a lot of\nSlow Notes that he had floated in his Palmy Days, and they had a Proud\nChance to Collect. He went into the Bankruptcy Court and Scheduled\n$73,000 of Liabilities, the Assets being a Hat-Box and a Set of\nTheatrical Posters.\n\nWhen he had to go out and Rustle for a Job he was a Busy Hand-Shaker\nonce more. The Blow seemed to have landed right on the Bump of Memory,\nand put his Recollecting Department into full Operation again. He could\nspot an Old Pal clear across the Street. He was rushing up to Obscure\nCharacters that he had not seen in Eight Years, and he called each one\nof them \"Old Man.\" It was now their Turn to do the Forgetful Business.\nThe Tablets of his Memory read as clear as Type-Writing. Upon meeting\nany Friend of his Boyhood he did the Shoulder-Slap, and rang in the Auld\nLang Syne Gag. He was so Democratic he was ready to Borrow from the\nHumblest. The same Acquaintances who had tried to Stand In with him when\nThings were coming his Way, were cutting off Street-Corners and getting\ndown behind their Newspapers to escape the Affectionate Massage,\nbeginning at the Hand and extending to the Shoulder-Blade. It was No\nUse. He remembered them all, and no one got Past him.\n\nMORAL: _Don't begin to Forget until you have it in Government Bonds._\n\n\n\n\n_THE_ FABLE _OF THE_ HE-GOSSIP _AND THE_ MAN'S WIFE _AND THE_ MAN\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was a He-Gossip named Cyrenius Bizzy. Mr. Bizzy\nwas Middle-Aged and had a Set of dark Chinchillas. He carried a\nGold-Headed Cane on Sunday. His Job on this Earth was to put on a pair\nof Pneumatic Sneakers every Morning and go out and Investigate Other\nPeople's Affairs.\n\nHe called himself a Reformer, and he did all his Sleuthing in the line\nof Duty.\n\nIf he heard of a Married Man going out Cab-Riding after Hours or playing\nHearts for Ten Cents a Heart or putting a Strange Woman on the Car, he\nknew it was his Duty to edge around and slip the Information to some one\nwho would carry it to the Wife. He was such a Good Man himself that he\nwanted all the other Men to wear long sable Belshazzars on the\nSub-Maxillary and come to him for Moral Guidance. If they would not do\nit, the only Thing left for him to do was to Warn their Families now and\nthen and get them into Hot Water, thus demonstrating that the\nTransgressor must expect Retribution to fall on him with quite a Crash.\n\nSometimes he would get behind a Board Fence to see the Wife of the\nPostmaster break off a Yellow Rose and pass it over the Gate to the\nSuperintendent of the High School. Then he would Hustle out on his Beat\nand ask People if they had heard the Talk that was Going Around. Of\ncourse it Grieved him to be compelled to Peddle such Stories, but he had\nto do it in the Interests of Morality. If Folks did not have a Pious\nProtector to spot Worldly Sin and then get after it with a Sharp Stick,\nthe Community would probably go to the Dogs in less than no time. When\nhe had a Disagreeable Task to Perform, such as letting a Merchant know\nthat his Business Partner had been seen slightly Sprung at a Picnic, he\nalways wished to get through with it as quickly as possible, so usually\nhe Ran. He did not want any one else to beat him there, because the\nOther Fellow might not get it Right.\n\n[Illustration: THE SCANDAL]\n\nNext Door to Cyrenius Bizzy there lived a Family that needed Regulating.\nCyrenius Bizzy knew that he had been Called to do the Regulating. The\nFamily had too much Fun to suit Cy. The Neighbor never came over to ask\nMr. Bizzy how late they had better Sit Up, or what Young Men the Girls\nought to invite to the House. Cyrenius would have been glad to fix up a\nSet of Rules, for he was a Bureau of Advice, open at all Hours. He could\ntell People just how much Money they ought to Save every Week, and how\noften they ought to Lick the Children, and so on. But the Family that\nlived Next Door made Loud Sport of Mr. Bizzy, and had no use for his\nCounsel. They played Authors right in the Front Room with the Curtains\nup, and they Danced the Two-Step so that he could be sure to see it from\nwhere he was hidden behind the Evergreen Tree, and they ran the\nIce-Cream Freezer on Sunday Morning, and sang College Songs nearly every\nEvening.\n\nIt kept the He-Gossip on the Go most of the time to let the Neighborhood\nknow all the Details of these Debauches. It did very little Good. The\nFamily did not want to be Reformed. He even wrote Anonymous Letters\ntelling them how Depraved they were. They were so Brazen and Hardened\nthey paid no Attention except to give him the Rowdy Hee-Ho when they saw\nhim pottering around the Shrubbery in his Front Yard, pretending to be\nat Work, but really doing the Pinkerton Act, and keeping one Ear spread\nfor a nice, juicy Bit of Scandal.\n\n[Illustration: THE HE-GOSSIP]\n\nMr. Bizzy watched the Family at all Hours of the Day and Night for many\nMonths. Although convinced that they were Children of Belial and pretty\nHard Nuts in general, he still hoped to Rescue them. He wondered if he\ncould not Appeal to the Man's Wife. She was a Daughter of Iniquity, all\nright, but maybe she might listen to an Entreaty if it came from one who\nwas Pure, and who could point out to her in Fatherly Kindness that she\nwas leading her Family on a Short Cut to the Weeping and Wailing and\nGnashing of Teeth.\n\nOne Day Mr. Bizzy got a quiet Tip from another Moral Detective, that the\nMan had stayed out until 2 A.M., at a Banquet given to a Militia\nCompany, so he knew it was Time for him to Act. He lay in Ambush until\nthe Coast was Clear, and then he went across the Dead-Line and caught\nher on the Piazza. She was Surprised to see him.\n\nHe told her all the Reports he had heard about her Husband, and said he\nwas Sorry for her. He wondered if they couldn't get together a few of\nthe Respectable Men and Women of the Neighborhood, and have a Talk with\nthe Husband, and try to Pluck him as a Brand from the Burning. She\nlistened with that Ominous Calm which always precedes the Iowa Cyclone\nthat takes the Roof off the Court House and moves the Poor Farm into the\nAdjoining County. She said she would take her Husband aside and have a\nConfidential Chat with him, and if he wanted to be Plucked, then she\nwould call in the Cyrenius Bizzy Association of Pluckers.\n\nThe He-Gossip went Home feeling that he was entitled to a Pedestal right\nin between Savonarola and Martin Luther.\n\nWhen the Man came Home his Wife told him. He murmured something about\nthe Last Straw and moved swiftly out of doors. Pulling up the Rover\nStake from the Croquet Grounds as he ran, he cleared the Dividing Fence\nwithout touching his Hands and began to Clean House. In about a Second\nthere was a Sound as if somebody had stubbed his Toe and dropped a\nCrockery Store. Then Cyrenius was seen to Break the Record for the\nRunning Long Jump, off the Front Stoop into an Oleander Tub, while\nwearing a Screen Door. After him came the Worldly Husband. For several\nMinutes the Copse where once the Garden smiled was full of He-Gossip and\nCries for Help.\n\n[Illustration: A MAN]\n\nWhen the Man came back to where his Wife stood with her Hand on her\nHeart, he reported that the He-Gossip would be found on top of the\nGrape-Arbor.\n\nMORAL: _Any one hoping to do Something in the Rescue Line had better go\nfurther than Next Door._\n\n\n\n\n_THE_ FABLE _OF THE_ AUTHOR WHO WAS SORRY _FOR_ WHAT HE DID _TO_ WILLIE\n\n\nAn Author was sitting at his Desk trying to pull himself together and\ngrind out Any Old Thing that could be converted into Breakfast Food. It\nwas his Off Day, however. His Brain felt as if some one had played a\nMean Trick on him and substituted a Side-Order of Cauliflower. All he\ncould do was to lean up against his Desk and make marks and Piffle his\nTime away. Between Scribbles he wrote a few Verses about, \"When Willie\nCame to say Good Night.\" It was a Sad Effort. He made it almost as Salty\nas a Mother Song and filled it with Papa and Mamma and the Patter of\nBaby Feet. He used Love-Light and the Evening Prayer and the\nHeart-Strings and other venerable Paraphernalia. He had to commit\nInfanticide to make it Weepy enough for the last Stanza. The Author\nwrote this Stuff merely to Get Back at himself and see how Sloppy he\ncould be. He did not intend to Print it, because he was not a Vendor of\nDeath-Beds, and he shrank from making any violent Assault on the\nSensibilities. So he tossed the Idle Product into the Waste-Basket and\nwondered if he was biginning to lose his Mind. With that Poem in his\nRight Hand he could have walked into Bloomingdale and no Questions\nAsked.\n\nWhile he was still Backing Up and Jockeying for a Fair Start at his\nDay's Work, A Friend came in and sat on the Edge of the Desk, and told\nhim to go right ahead and not pay any Attention.\n\nSeeing the Crumpled Paper in the Basket, the Friend, who was\nInquisitive, hooked it out and read the Lines. Presently, when the\nAuthor looked up, the Friend had big Tears rolling down his Cheeks and\nwas Sniffling.\n\n\"This is the Best Thing you have ever done,\" said the Friend. \"My God,\nbut it is Pathetic! It will certainly Appeal to any one who has lost a\nChild.\"\n\n\"I have no desire to Manufacture any more Sorrow for the Bereaved,\" said\nthe Author. \"They have had Trouble enough. If I have to deal in White\nCaskets or tap the Lachrymal Glands in order to thrash out an Income, I\nwill cease being an Author and go back to Work.\"\n\n\"But this Poem will touch any Heart,\" insisted the Friend. \"As soon as I\ngot into it I began to Cry. You can get a Good Price for this.\"\n\nWhen it came down to a Business Basis, the Author Switched.\n\n\"Get what you can on it,\" he said. \"It seems a Shame to go and Market\nthat kind of Scroll-Work; still if it hits you, it may be Bad enough to\naffect others having the same Shape of Head. I need the Money and I have\nno Shame.\"\n\nThereupon the Friend sent the Verses to the Publisher of a Family\nMonthly that Percolates into every Postoffice in the Country. In a few\nDays there came a tear-stained Acceptance and a Check. The Author said\nit was just like Finding $22.50, and he thought that was the End of it.\n\n[Illustration: LANTERN SLIDE]\n\nBut when the Verses came out in the Monthly he began to get Letters from\nall parts of the United States telling him how much Suffering and\nOpening of Old Wounds had been caused by his little Poem about Willie\nand how Proud he ought to be. Many who wrote expressed Sympathy for him,\nand begged him to Bear Up. These Letters dazed the Author. He never had\nowned any Boy named Willie. He did not so much as Know a Boy named\nWillie. He lived in an Office Building with a lot of Stenographers and\nBill Clerks. If he had been the Father of a Boy named Willie, and Willie\nhad ever come to tell him \"Good Night\" when he was busy at Something\nElse, probably he would have jumped at Willie and snapped a piece out of\nhis Arm. Just the Same, the Correspondents wrote to him from All Over,\nand said they could read Grief in every Line of his Grand Composition.\n\nThat was only the Get-Away. The next thing he knew, some Composer in\nPhiladelphia had set the Verses to Music and they were sung on the Stage\nwith colored Lantern-Slide Pictures of little Willie telling Papa \"Good\nNight\" in a Blue Flat with Lace Curtains on the Windows and a Souvenir\nCabinet of Chauncey Olcott on the What-Not. The Song was sold at Music\nStores, and the Author was invited out to Private Houses to hear it\nSung, but he was Light on his Feet and Kept Away.\n\nSeveral Newspapers sent for his Picture, and he was asked to write a\nSunday Article telling how and why he did it. He was asked to Contribute\nVerses of the same General Character to various Periodicals. Sometimes\nhe would get away by himself and read the Thing over again, and shake\nhis Head and Remark: \"Well, if they are Right, then I must be Wrong, but\nto me it is Punk.\"\n\nHe had his Likeness printed in Advertisements which told the Public to\nread what the Author of \"Willie's Good Night\" had to say about their\nLithia Water. Some one named a light, free-smoking Five-Cent Cigar after\nhim, and he began to see Weird Paintings on the Dead Walls, and was\nAshamed to walk along those Streets.\n\n[Illustration: LITTLE FERN]\n\nIt came out that one of the Frohmans wanted to Dramatize the\nMasterpiece, and it was Rumored that Stuart Robson, Modjeska, Thomas Q.\nSeabrooke, Maude Adams, Dave Warfield, and Walker Whiteside had been\nrequested to play the Part of Willie.\n\nEvery morning the Author would get up and say to himself that it could\nnot go on much longer. He felt sure that the Public would come to its\nSenses some Day, and get after him with a Rope, but it didn't. His Fame\ncontinued to Spread and Increase. All those Persons who had not Read it\nclaimed that they had, so as to be in Line, and he had the same old\nFloral Tributes handed to him Day after Day.\n\nIt was Terrible. He had gone to College and spent a large amount of\nMoney irrigating and fertilizing his Mind, and he had Dreamed of writing\nSomething that would be Strong enough for Charles Dudley Warner's\nLibrary of the World's Warmest Copy, in a Limited Edition of 20,000; but\ninstead of landing with the Heavy-Weights he seemed Destined to achieve\nGreatness as the Author of a Boy's Size Poem, bearing about the same\nRelation to the Literature of the Ages that a May Howard Window Hanger\ndoes to Pure Art. He was Famous until he couldn't rest, but it was not\nthe Brand he had Coveted.\n\nHe decided to Live It Down. He would Produce something Serious and\nMeritorious that would throw \"Willie's Good Night\" into the Shade. So he\nlabored for Two Years on a Novel that analyzed Social Conditions, and\nevery Reviewer said that here was a Volume by the Author of \"Willie's\nGood Night.\" The Purchasers of the Book expected to take it Home and\nRead it and Weep. When they found that it did not contain any Dark Skies\nor Headstones, they felt that they had been Bilked out of $1.50 each. It\nwas Suggested that the Author of \"Willie's Good Night\" was losing his\nGrip and seemed to have Written Himself Out.\n\nHe was not wholly Discouraged. He went out Lecturing on the Occult, just\nto prove to People that he had been Misjudged. The Local Chairman always\nintroduced him as the Celebrated Author of \"Willie's Good Night.\"\nFrequently he was Dragged away to a Home to meet all the Big Guns of one\nof these Towns that call a Lecture a Show. After he had been on\nExhibition for a Half Hour or so, the same as the Albino or the Man with\nthe Elastic Skin in the Main Curio Hall, the Host would clear a Space in\nthe Center of the Room and announce that he was about to spring a\nDelightful Surprise on their Distinguished Guest. Little Fern, the\nDaughter of the County Recorder, was going to Speak \"Willie's Good\nNight.\"\n\nThere are Times and Times, but those were the Times when he suffered\nAgony that went beyond the Limit.\n\nThe Author always knew the Verses were Bad enough to be Wicked, but he\nnever guessed how Yellow they really were until he heard them recited by\nLittle Girls who made the Full Stop at the Comma instead of the Period.\nHe used to lose a Pound a Minute, and when he would start back to the\nHotel his Shoes would be Full of Cold Perspiration. Finally, when he\nbegan to decline Invitations, against the advice of his Manager, it was\nsaid of him that he was Eccentric and appeared to have a Case of the\nSwell Head.\n\nHe had to retire into a Suburb, where he built a Wall around his\nPremises and put up Signs against Trespassing. He had a Chinaman for a\nServant, because the Chinaman did not know he was an Author, but\nsupposed him to be a Retired Porch-Climber.\n\nThus he was enabled to Forget for an Hour or Two at a Time.\n\nMORAL: _Refrain from Getting Gay with the Emotions._","title":"More Fables","tradition":"folklore-oral-tradition","translated_text":null,"word_count":21192}