So when Doris said: “Go and ask that man where the Boston train leaves from,” I gritted my teeth and decided that the time had come. Simulating conversation with him, I really asked him nothing, and returned to Doris, saying, “Come on. He says it goes from Track 10.”
Eight months later we returned home. The train that left on Track 10 was the Chicago Limited, which I had taken deliberately. In Chicago I again falsified what “the man” told me, and instead of getting on the train back to New York we went to Little Rock, Arkansas. Every time I had to ask where the best hotel was, I made up information which brought us out into the suburbs, cold and hungry. Many nights we spent wandering through the fields looking for some place that never existed, or else in the worst hotel in town acting on what I said was the advice of “that kind-looking man in uniform.”
From Arkansas, we went into Mexico, and once, guided by what I told her had been the directions given me by the man at the news-stand in Vera Cruz, we made a sally into the swamps of Central America, in whatever that first republic is on the way south. After that, Doris began to lose faith in what strange men could tell us. One day, at a little station in Mavicos, I said: “Wait a minute, till I ask that man what is the best way to get back into America,” and she said, sobbing: “Don’t ask anybody. Just do what you think is best.” Then I knew that the fight was over. In ten days I had her limp form back in New York, and from that day to this, she hasn’t once suggested that I ask questions of a stranger.
The funny part of it is, I constantly find myself asking them. I guess the humiliation came in being told to ask.
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Cell-Formations
and Their Work
* * *
It is only recently that science has found out the exact structure of the tiny cell-formations which go to make up life. Only yesterday, in fact.
Every higher animal starts life as a single cell. This much is obvious. Look at the rainbow. Look at the formation of frost on the window-pane. Don’t look now. Wait a minute. . . . Now look.
This cell measures no more than 1/125 of an inch in diameter at first, but you mustn’t be discouraged. It looks like nothing at all, even under the strongest microscope, and, before we knew just how important they were, they were often thrown away. We now know that if it were not for these tiny, tiny cells, we should none of us be here today. This may or may not be a recommendation for the cells. Quien sabe?
Shortly after the cell decides to go ahead with the thing, it gets lonely and divides itself up into three similar cells, just for company’s sake and to have someone to talk to. They soon find out that they aren’t particularly congenial, so they keep on dividing themselves up into other cells until there is a regular mob of them. Then they elect an entertainment committee and give a show.
After the show, there is a fight, and the thing breaks up into different cliques or groups. One group think they are white corpuscles or phagocytes. Others go around saying that they are red corpuscles and to hell with the white.
The other groups of cells devote themselves to music, aesthetic dancing, and the formation of starch which goes into dress-shirts. They are all very happy and very busy, and it’s nobody’s business what they do when they aren’t working. We certainly are not going to snoop into that here.
We must take up, however, the work of the brain-cells, as it is in the brain that the average man of today does his thinking. (Aha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!)
Oh, let’s not take up the brain-cells. You know as much about them as anybody does, and what’s the use anyway? Suppose you do learn something today. You’re likely to die tomorrow, and there you are.
And we must go into the question of the size of these cells. That really is important. In about 1/150,000 of a cubic inch of blood there are some five million cells afloat. This is, as you will see, about the population of the City of London, except that the cells don’t wear any hats. Thus, in our whole body, there are perhaps (six times seven is forty-two, five times eight is forty, put down naught and carry your four, eight times nine is seventy-two and four is seventy-six, put down six and carry your seven and then, adding, six, four, three, one, six, naught, naught, naught), oh, about a billion or so of these red corpuscles alone, not counting overhead and breakage. In the course of time, that runs into figures.
Now when it comes to reproduction, you have to look out. In the cuttlefish, for example, there is what is known as “greesion” or budding. The organism as a whole remains unaltered, except that one small portion of it breaks off and goes into business for itself. This, of course, makes a very pretty picture, but gets nowhere. In the case of multi-cellular animals, like the orange, it results in a frightful confusion.
We should have said that there are two classes of animals, unicellular and multicellular. From the unicellular group we get our coal, iron, wheat and ice, and from the multicellular our salt, pepper, chutney and that beautiful silk dress which milady wears so proudly. Woolen and leather goods we import.
You will see then that by grafting a piece of one species on another species, you can mix the cells and have all kinds of fun. Winkler, in 1902, grafted a piece of Solanum (the genus to which the potato belongs) onto a stock of another kind, and then, after the union had been established, cut the stem across, just at the point of junction. The bud was formed of the intermingled tissues of the two species and was most peculiar-looking.
Winkler was arrested.
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“The King of Razbo-Jazbo”
* * *
A COMIC OPERA IN TWO ACTS
PRESENTED BY
THE FALSE BEARD AND BUSKIN CLUB
OF RASHER UNIVERSITY
Curtain advertised at 8:30
Goes up at 9:15
on
ACT I
The Veranda of the Country Club
OPENING CHORUS OF TENNIS GIRLS
(The TENNIS GIRLS reading from left to right are Maddock, ’26, assistant manager of the base-ball team; Loubie, ’26, cox of the crew; Timson, ’25, third-base; and Roon, ’26, shot-putter. Roon and Timson decided to wait until the dance after the performance before shaving. Maddock has a full-rigged schooner tattooed on his forearm.)
TENNIS GIRLS
Hello, people, here we are!
Girls who dote on tennis.
People come from near and far—
They even come from Venice.
Chorus
Oh, we are merry tennis girls
Dressed in fancy frocks and curls.
We bat the ball around the place
And mineralava on our face.
(None of these words are heard, owing to the TENNIS GIRLS remembering only a few of them and the audience screaming with laughter during the rest. Loud feminine shrieks of “Look at Fred!” and “There’s Harry!” predominate. Enter DICK.)
DICK
Hello, everybody! My father has just told me that he is going to take me out of college because of that little mix-up at the frat-house last week and is going to put me into business. I am looking for Mildred to tell her. Where is Mildred, by the way?
TENNIS GIRLS
(In more or less unison)
Oh, Mr. Mortimer! Mildred is out on the golf-course with that French count who is creating such a furor among the girls. You had better watch out.
DICK
Oh, she is, is she? Well, we’ll see about that. I love Mildred and I intend to marry her.
TENNIS GIRLS
Hooray for Dick!
DICK
And what’s more, I’m going to take her out in a canoe this very night and propose to her. Do you know, girls, there is nothing like a canoe on a June night for proposing to a girl?
(Song by DICK and TENNIS GIRLS)
“June Night, a Canoe, and You”
Oh, you may sing about your aeroplanes
Your gondolas and such,
But when it comes to making love,
 
; They don’t amount to much.
Chorus
For it’s give me a June night
A spoon night, canoeing
With Helen, or Mazie or Nell
And it’s give me the lake as a place to go wooing
No other place does quite so well.
But all other girls seem to pale into nothing
When compared to the charms of the one I love best
So it’s give me a June night, canoe-night and something
My Girl of the Golden West.
(Tremendous applause and three encores; at the end of which the TENNIS GIRLS are completely winded. Enter MILDRED on the arm of the COUNT.)
MILDRED
Oh, Dick, I want you to meet Count de Whooziz, a very good friend of mine.
DICK
How do you do, Count Whatziz. (Aside) I’ve seen this guy before some place. Where can it be?
COUNT
How do ze do? I hop’ I do not ze intrude?
DICK
Oh, no, not at all. That is – not much.
(Enter Dick’s father, MR. MORTIMER)
MR. MORTIMER
Ah, you young rascal! What’s this I hear—
(At this point MR. MORTIMER’S gray whisker on the left side becomes unstuck and flaps vigorously up and down as he speaks. This throws MR. MORTIMER up in his lines and the rest of the cast into hysterics. A compromise is finally effected by removing the loose bit and placing it in his pocket, but it is several minutes before the audience and cast are brought around to a point where the show can proceed. In the excitement, MR. MORTIMER skips three pages of script and goes ahead, omitting one fifth of the act completely. Nobody notices the difference.)
MR. MORTIMER
And so I have decided to send you to our branch office in Razbo-Jazbo and see what you are good for.
MARION
If Dick goes to Razbo-Jazbo, I go with him.
TOMMY
And so will I.
THE GREENS-KEEPER
And so will I!
TENNIS GIRLS
(In barytone unison)
Let’s all go to Razbo-Jazbo with Dick! Hurrah! Hurrah!
Finale to First Act
We’re off to Razbo-Jazbo!
That funny, funny isle.
We’re off to Razbo-Jazbo
And that is why we smile
We’re off, we’re off, we’re off, we’re off
To Raz-bo-Jazbo, to Raz-bo-Jaz-bo
Tra-la-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a!
CURTAIN
Between the acts there is general visiting among members of the audience, and it is generally agreed that Harry is splendid, that Lew makes a wonderful girl and that Ted is surprisingly good, in fact that they all are taking their parts just corkingly. As a matter of fact, this is not so. They are all pretty terrible.
ACT II
Palace of the King of Razbo-Jazbo
CHORUS OF RAZBO-JAZBO GIRLS
The RAZBO-JAZBO GIRLS range in height from six-feet-three to five-feet-one and could make up a fairly good boat-crew if necessary. Several club dinners before the show have helped give one or two of them a sense of the ridiculousness of the whole thing and they laugh softly to themselves during the more intricate steps of their dance. The dance, as a whole, is a failure.
RAZBO-JAZBO GIRLS
Welcome to Razbo-Jazbo
Welcome to this town
It isn’t much to look at
But it sure is done up brown.
So welcome everybody
And welcome others, too.
And whatever you perhaps don’t like
You know what you can do.
(Enter DICK and everybody from the first act.)
DICK
Hello, everybody! Is this Razbo-Jazbo?
THE KING
Yes, it is. But I don’t know how much longer it will be. My enemy, the King of Hankey-Pankey, is coming today and if he finds out that I am still king here, he is likely to tear the whole place down. I don’t suppose that you would do me the favor to take my place as king for one day?
DICK
Why, sure I would. My father thinks that I am no good, and if he found out that I was elected king on my first day in Razbo-Jazbo, he would probably leave me all his money and allow me to marry Mildred.
KING
Who is Mildred?
DICK
Mildred? She is the Girl of my Dreams.
Song
“The Girl of My Dreams”
DICK and MILDRED
There is always a time when you feel rather blue
And the world seems to be all wrong.
It’s the time when you wish all your dreams would come true
And life was a long, sweet song.
But now it’s all different from that, my dear.
And the days bring their share of regret
For the one who is wondering all alone
Is the one whom you can’t forget.
Chorus
O wonderful girl of my dreams,
O wonderful dreams of my girl,
When you are and you are and you are and you
And the only one you are is you, my dear,
And the only one you are is you.
KING
Now I see why you are willing to take my place for a day. Well, here’s my crown and make-up. I wish you good luck.
(DICK puts on KING’S crown and make-up and everybody laughs.)
MILDRED
Well, now you are a regular full-fledged king, all you need is a full-fledged queen and a jack—
(Enter the KING OF HANKEY-PANKEY with a dozen henchmen.)
KING OF H. P.
Throw up your hands!
DICK
Cold hands!
KING
No fooling, now. I mean business. If you don’t throw up your hands, I’ll shoot you down like a dog. Ready, men! One – two—
(Shouting is heard in the distance and on rushes the University Cross-Country Team.)
DICK
The boys from the locker-building! We’re saved!
(The Cross-Country Team seize the KING OF HANKEY-PANKEY and tear off his wig, disclosing DICK’S FATHER.)
DICK
Father! What are you doing here in that rig?
FATHER
It’s all right, my boy. I just did it to test you. I wanted to see if you had nerve enough to face the music. Now that I see that you have, I will turn the business over to you.
DICK
And I may marry Mildred?
FATHER
With all my heart.
(Dick and Mildred embrace.)
Finale
Oh, welcome everybody
We’re off to the U.S.A.
We’ve had our fun in Razbo-Jazbo
And we hope you’ve had the same,
So welcome everybody
And the Girl of my Dreams.
CURTAIN
Following the descent of the curtain, the entire cast circulates among the audience in semi-make-up receiving congratulations.
A dance follows in which eleven couples become engaged to be married and fourteen members of the cast pass out cold.
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Biography by Inches
(Such as has recently been done for Keats)
* * *
A LIFE OF WILLIAM BODNEY
Together with an Examination of
His Poetry and Punctuation
I
GENESIS
The weather report submitted by the Suffix Weather Bureau on May 11, 1837, states that shortly after three in the afternoon there was a light rain, a precipitation of some .005 inches. There is a certain sad significance in this technical statement of the Weather Bureau, for during that light rain, George and Edna Bodney were married in the south vestry of Queen’s Church.
We know that it was the south vestry because of a letter written the next day by the Rev. Dr. Morbeling, the rector, to his s
ister, Mrs. Wrethnam. “Such a mess, such a mess!” writes Dr. Morbeling. “The north vestry has been torn up by plumbers and plasterers for over a week now, throwing all the business into that dark, damp old south vestry which is very difficult to work in owing to the danger of tripping over the litter of kindergarten chairs.”
North or south vestry, however, it is certain (and essential) that George and Edna Bodney were married on May 11, 1837, for on May 13, 1837, William Bodney was born.
II
BROOK AND RIVER
Of the boyhood of William Bodney we know but little. He was brought up as most of the boys in Suffix were brought up, except for the fact that he did not go out of doors until he was eleven, and then only to strike at the postman. He was kept in the house so much because of an old prejudice of Edna Bodney’s against fireflies.
We catch a glimpse of Bodney’s school life, however, in a letter written by Charles Cod, a fellow student at Wimperis School (From the Danker Collection):
“There are lots of fellows here in school,” writes Cod; “among them Henry Mamsley, Ralph Dyke, Luther Fennchurch, William Bodney, Philip Massteter and Norman Walsh.”
Cod is no doubt accurate in his letter, although a note of personal prejudice which creeps in now and again makes it a little hard to rely on his judgment.
No more trustworthy is Norman Rully, writing to Ashman in 1845 (Author’s Collection) when he says that Bodney paid “three shillings for a pair of skates.” This is unquestionably an error on Rully’s part, for skates at that time cost five shillings if they cost a nickel.
III
EARLY POETRY
We first find Bodney displaying his genius on the occasion of the presentation to him of a knitted necktie by Laura Pensick, the sister of his friend Alan Pensick. The tie was given to him early in the afternoon and by evening the young man had composed the following sonnet in honor of its fair donor:
LINES ON OPENING A LETTER AND FINDING SAND IN IT
When hours of sorry death have thundered by
Pluck and Luck Page 10