by Rick Raphael
"You must excuse me, gentlemen, but the discussion of these topics hasquite unnerved me. Allow me to share with you a thimbleful."
Fitz drained the glass, cast his eyes upward, and said solemnly, "To therepose of the postmaster's soul."
LOVE SONNETS OF AN OFFICE BOY
BY S.E. KISER
I
Oh, if you only knowed how much I like To stand here, when the "old man" ain't around, And watch your soft, white fingers while you pound Away at them there keys! Each time you strike It almost seems to me as though you'd found So me way, while writin' letters, how to play Sweet music on that thing, because the sound Is something I could listen to all day.
You're twenty-five or six, and I'm fourteen, And you don't hardly ever notice me-- But when you do, you call me Willie! Gee, I wisht I'd bundles of the old long green And could be twenty-eight or nine or so, And something happened to your other beau.
VI
When you're typewritin' and that long-legged clerk Tips back there on his chair and smiles at you, And you look up and get to smilin', too, I'd like to go and give his chair a jerk And send him flyin' till his head went through The door that goes out to the hall, and when They picked him up he'd be all black and blue And you'd be nearly busted laughin' then.
But if I done it, maybe you would run And hold his head and smooth his hair and say It made you sad that he got dumped that way, And I'd get h'isted out for what I done-- I wish that he'd get fired and you'd stay And suddenly I'd be a man some day.
VIII
This morning when that homely, long-legged clerk Come in he had a rose he got somewhere; He went and kind of leaned against her chair, Instead of goin' on about his work, And stood around and talked to her a while, Because the boss was out,--and both took care To watch the door; and when he left her there He dropped the flower with a sickish smile.
I snuck it from the glass of water she Had stuck it in, and tore it up and put It on the floor and smashed it with my foot, When neither him nor her was watchin' me-- I'd like to rub the stem acrost his nose, And I wish they'd never be another rose.
XIII
Last night I dreamed about her in my sleep; I thought that her and me had went away Out on some hill where birds sung 'round all day, And I had got a job of herdin' sheep. I thought that she had went along to keep Me comp'ny, and we'd set around for hours Just lovin', and I'd go and gather flowers And pile them at her feet, all in a heap.
It seemed to me like heaven, bein' there With only her besides the sheep and birds, And us not sayin' anything but words About the way we loved. I wouldn't care To ever wake again if I could still Dream we was there forever on the hill.
XXVII
It's over now; the blow has fell at last; It seems as though the sun can't shine no more, And nothing looks the way it did before; The glad thoughts that I used to think are past. Her desk's shut up to-day, the lid's locked fast; The keys where she typewrote are still; her chair Looks sad and lonesome standin' empty there-- I'd like to let the tears come if I dast.
This morning when the boss come in he found A letter that he'd got from her, and so He read it over twice and turned around And said: "The little fool's got married!" Oh, It seemed as if I'd sink down through the ground, And never peep no more--I didn't, though.
MR. DOOLEY ON THE GAME OF FOOTBALL
BY FINLEY PETER DUNNE
"Whin I was a young man," said Mr. Dooley, "an' that was a long timeago,--but not so long ago as manny iv me inimies'd like to believe, if Ihad anny inimies,--I played fut-ball, but 'twas not th' fut-ball I seewhin th' Brothers' school an' th' Saint Aloysius Tigers played las' weekon th' pee-raries.
"Whin I was a la-ad, iv a Sundah afthernoon we'd get out in th' fieldwhere th' oats'd been cut away, an' we'd choose up sides. Wan cap'n'dpick one man, an' th' other another. 'I choose Dooley,' 'I chooseO'Connor,' 'I choose Dimpsey,' 'I choose Riordan,' an' so on till therewas twinty-five or thirty on a side. Thin wan cap'n'd kick th' ball, an'all our side'd r-run at it an' kick it back; an' thin wan iv th' otherside'd kick it to us, an' afther awhile th' game'd get so timpischousthat all th' la-ads iv both sides'd be in wan pile, kickin' away at wanor th' other or at th' ball or at th' impire, who was mos'ly a la-adthat cudden't play an' that come out less able to play thin he was whinhe wint in. An', if anny wan laid hands on th' ball, he was kicked beivry wan else an' be th' impire. We played fr'm noon till dark, an'kicked th' ball all th' way home in the moonlight.
"That was futball, an' I was a great wan to play it. I'd think nawthin'iv histin' th' ball two hundherd feet in th' air, an' wanst I give itsuch a boost that I stove in th' ribs iv th' Prowtestant minister--badluck to him, he was a kind man--that was lookin' on fr'm a hedge. I wasth' finest player in th' whole county, I was so.
"But this here game that I've been seein' ivry time th' pagan fistivaliv Thanksgivin' comes ar-round, sure it ain't th' game I played. I seenth' Dorgan la-ad comin' up th' sthreet yesterdah in his futballclothes,--a pair iv matthresses on his legs, a pillow behind, a maskover his nose, an' a bushel measure iv hair on his head. He was followedby thee men with bottles, Dr. Ryan, an' th' Dorgan fam'ly. I jined thim.They was a big crowd on th' peerary,--a bigger crowd than ye cud get togo f'r to see a prize fight. Both sides had their frinds that give th'colledge cries. Says wan crowd: 'Take an ax, an ax, an ax to thim.Hooroo, hooroo, hellabaloo. Christyan Bro-others!' an' th' other says,'Hit thim, saw thim, gnaw thim, chaw thim, Saint Alo-ysius!' Well,afther awhile they got down to wur-ruk. 'Sivin, eighteen, two, four,'says a la-ad. I've seen people go mad over figures durin' th' freesilver campaign, but I niver see figures make a man want f'r to go outan' kill his fellow-men befure. But these here figures had th' sameeffect on th' la-ads that a mintion iv Lord Castlereagh'd have on theirfathers. Wan la-ad hauled off, an' give a la-ad acrost fr'm him a punchin th' stomach. His frind acrost th' way caught him in th' ear. Th'cinter rush iv th' Saint Aloysiuses took a runnin' jump at th' left lungiv wan iv th' Christyan Brothers, an' wint to th' grass with him. FourChristyan Brothers leaped most crooly at four Saint Aloysiuses, an'rolled thim. Th' cap'n iv th' Saint Aloysiuses he took th' cap'n iv th'Christyan Brothers be th' leg, an' he pounded th' pile with him as I'veseen a section hand tamp th' thrack. All this time young Dorgan wasstandin' back, takin' no hand in th' affray. All iv a suddent he give acry iv rage, an' jumped feet foremost into th' pile. 'Down!' says th'impire. 'Faith, they are all iv that,' says I. 'Will iver they get up?''They will,' says ol' man Dorgan. 'Ye can't stop thim,' says he.
"It took some time f'r to pry thim off. Near ivry man iv th' SaintAloysiuses was tied in a knot around wan iv th' Christyan Brothers. On'ywan iv thim remained on th' field. He was lyin' face down, with his nosein th' mud. 'He's kilt,' says I. 'I think he is,' says Dorgan, with amerry smile. 'Twas my boy Jimmy done it, too,' says he. 'He'll bearrested f'r murdher,' says I. 'He will not,' says he. 'There's on'y wanpolisman in town cud take him, an' he's down town doin' th' same f'rsomebody,' he says. Well, they carried th' corpse to th' side, an' tookth' ball out iv his stomach with a monkey wrinch, an' th' game wasrayshumed. 'Sivin, sixteen, eight, eleven,' says Saint Aloysius; an'young Dorgan started to run down th' field. They was another young la-adr-runnin' in fr-ront iv Dorgan; an', as fast as wan iv th' ChristyanBrothers come up an' got in th' way, this here young Saint Aloysiusgrabbed him be th' hair iv th' head an' th' sole iv th' fut, an' thrunhim over his shoulder. 'What's that la-ad doin'?' says I. 'Interfering'says he. 'I shud think he was,' says I, 'an' most impudent,' I says.''Tis such interference as this,' I says, 'that breaks up fam'lies'; an'I come away.
"'Tis a noble sport, an' I'm glad to see us Irish ar-re gettin' into it.Whin we larn it thruly, we'll teach thim colledge joods fr'm th' piebelt a thrick or two."
"We have already," said Mr. Hennessy. "They'se a team up in Wisconsinwith a la-ad be th' name iv Jeremiah Riordan f'r cap'n, an' wan namedPatsy O'Dea behind him. They come down here, an' bate th' la-ads fr'mth' Chicawgo Colledge down be th' Midway."
"Iv coorse, they did," said Mr. Dooley. "Iv coorse, they did. An' theycud bate anny collection iv Baptists that iver come out iv a tank."
THE FAIRPORT ART MUSEUM
BY OCTAVE THANET
After the war was over, the Middle West addressed itself to Culture.Perhaps the husbands and brothers and fathers might still be busy makingmoney; but the women of the West, whose energies and emotions had beenmightily roused, found life a little tame when there were no moresanitary commissions, no more great fairs or little fairs for thesoldiers, no more intense emotions over printed sheets. Then it was thatthe Woman's Club lifted a modest finger at the passing car of progress,and unobtrusively boarded it.
Fairport was conservative, as always, but she had no mind to be leftbehind in the march of feminine fashion. She did not rush to extremes,but she had women's clubs in 1881. The chief of these were the Ladies'Literary Club and the Spinsters' Alliance. Both clubs tackled the samegreat themes of ethics and art, and allotted a winter to the literatureof a nation, except in the case of Greek and Roman literatures, whichwere not considered able to occupy a whole winter apiece, so they werestudied in company. The club possessed a proper complement of officers,and their meetings went from house to house. They were conducted withartless simplicity, in a pleasant, conversational manner, but with dueregard to polite forms; and only at a moment of excitement was the chairaddressed by her Christian name.
Naturally, the women's clubs were deeply stirred by the first greatWorld's Fair in America. But the whole West was moved. It turned to artwith a joyous ardor, the excited happiness of a child that finds a newbeauty in the world. Why had we not thought of the artistic regenerationof our sordid life before? Never mind, we would make amends for losttime by spending more money! In very truth the years following theCentennial witnessed an extraordinary awakening of worship of beauty,almost religious in its fervor. Passionate pilgrims ransacked Europe andthe Orient; a prodigal horde of their captives, objects of luxury and ofart, surged into galleries and museums and households. No cold, criticaltaste weeded out these adorable aliens. The worst and the bestconquered, together. Our architecture, our furniture, our householdsurroundings were metamorphosed as by enchantment. And the feature ofmark in it all was the unparalleled diffusion of the new faith. Not thegreat cities only; the towns, the villages, the hamlets, caught fire.
Of course, Fairport went to Philadelphia; and Fairport was converted. Itfollowed, at once that the women's clubs of the place should serve mostzealously at the altar; and nothing could be more inevitable than thatin course of time there should be a concrete manifestation of zeal.Hence the memorable Art Museum, the fame of which to this day willrevive, when there is a meeting of the solid and gray-haired matrons whowere the light-footed girls of the Alliance, and the talk falls on theold times.
The art collection would give its admirers shivers to-day, but itexcited only happy complacency then. The mood of the hour was notcritical. The homes of the Fairport gentry held innumerable oil copiesof the great masters of different degrees of merit, which they loanedsecure of welcome; with them came family treasures so long held inreverence that their artistic value (coldly considered) had been lost tocomparison, and the gems of accomplished amateurs who painted flowers onchina cups, or of rising young artists who had not as yet risen beyondthe circle of trusting friends in town.
In general, the donors' expectation of gratitude was justified, but evenso early as 1881 there were limits to artistic credulity; and someofferings drove the club president, Miss Claudia Loraine, and the clubsecretary, Miss Emma Hopkins, to "the coal hold." This was a wee closetunder the stairs, where the coal scuttles were ranged, until they shouldfare forth to replenish the "base burners" which warmed the Museum home.In real life the name of the Museum's lodgings was Harness Block, andMr. Harness had proffered the cause of art two empty stores, formerly afish market and a grocery. As there was no private office (only a wirecage), when Miss Hopkins felt the need of frank speech she signaledClaudia to the coal hole.
She was closeted with her thus on the morning of the second day. Thesubject of the conference was the last assault on the nerves of thecommittee, perpetrated by the Miller twins--not in person, but withtheir china. The china, itself, had the outward semblance of ordinaryblue earthen ware of a cheap grade; but the Miller twins were convinced(on the testimony of their dear old minister, who never told a lie inhis life, and who had heard the Millers' grandmother say--and everybodyknows that _she_ was a saint on earth, and she was ninety years old atthe time, and would she be likely to lie almost on her dying bed?--youmight call it her dying bed, averred Miss Miller, since she wasbedridden for two years before her death, on that same old four-posterbedstead which belonged to her mother, and at last died on it) that theblue ware had been the property of George the Third, had been sold andwas on board the ship with the tea which was rifled in Boston Harbor.They had insisted in pasting these royal claims upon the china in theblackest and neatest lettering. The awkward fact that earthenware doesnot usually grace a royal board, or that the saintly old grandmothermixed up dates and persons in a wonderful way during her latter days,made no difference to her loyal descendants. Each platter with the blackchipping betraying plainly its lowly origin, each tea-cup mended withcement, bore the paper-claim pasted securely upon it.
"It took up a whole afternoon," said Miss Tina Miller, "but it's _so_precious and there might be other blue ware and it _might_ getmixed--you'll insure it, Miss Hopkins? not that money could replace suchthings, but, at least"--Miss Tina Miller always left her sentences inthe air, seemingly too diffident to complete them, once the auditorswere assured of their import.
The Millers kept a tiny little house on a tiny little income; but gaveof all they had to give, themselves, without stint. They werepublic-spirited women, if Fairport ever held any such. Although they hadneither brothers nor cousins to go to the war, they had picked lint andmade bandages and trudged with subscription papers and scrimped forweeks to have money to spend at the patriotic fairs. In consequence theywere deeply respected, so respected that it was simply impossible torefuse their unselfish offering of their dearest god.
"I think it just _noble_ of you," said Miss Tina. "Sister and I felt we_must_ help; so we brought the King George china and a little pencilhead our sister Euphrosyne did. The one who died, you know. I'm sorryall your--art things--aren't in yet. No, I can't come to-morrow; Ishall be very busy--sister may come--_thank_ you."
* * * * *
Both the keen young listeners knew why Miss Tina could not come; it wasneither more nor less than the admission fee.
"But I'll take care of that," said Emma to Claudia in the coal hold."Elly is going to give her and Miss Ally each a season ticket."
"Then we're _in_ for the King George china!" groaned Claudia softly.
"We are," said Emma. "I've put it in a good but not too good a place,and Mr. Winslow is inspecting it now."
"And he _knows_ about china; he's sent lovely things," mourned Claudia.
"Oh, well, he knows about the Miller girls, too," said Emma, smiling; "Ithink he'll forgive us."
"You'd better go explain," urged Claudia, "and throw in that landscapewith the cow that seems to have five legs and belongs to Mr. Harness.Perhaps he'll forgive that, too."
Emma went,--she was an amiable girl. She was not pretty like her sister,Mrs. Raimund, who had married the great railway man and was a power inChicago society; but there was something in the radiant neatness andgood humor of the plain sister which made her pleasant to look upon.
Winslow's mouth and eyes relaxed at her greeting, and he smiled over herofficial quotation of the Millers' claims.
"King George's table? H'mn; which table, second or third?"
His eyestwinkled at Emma, whose own eyes twinkled back.
"They're awfully good women," said she, in a kind of compunction.
"None better," said he.
As he passed on, with his little son at his side, she thought: "He isn'tnearly so grim as I used to think."
Mrs. Winslow and Mrs. Winter were a few paces behind. They halted beforethe china, which Mrs. Winter examined; but Mrs. Winslow's weary eyeslingered hardly a moment before they found some other object on which torest and leave as briefly.
"It is to be hoped this priceless relic won't be damaged in any way,"said Mrs. Winter. "Still"--she bent confidentially toward Emma--"if sucha calamity should occur, I know a shop in Chicago where you can getplenty for three dollars and ninety-nine cents."
"I hope nothing will happen to it," said Emma, with stolid reticence.
Mrs. Winslow had not listened, her listless face had been transformed;it was illumined now by the loveliest of smiles; she half put out herhand as a little boy snuggled up to her silken skirts, with a laugh.
"Papa letted me come," he said gaily, "and Peggy's here, too,--there!"
Peggy was attired with great care, her long red curls were shining andher eyes sparkled.
Immediately both children were immersed in the beauties of a collectionof rejected models which had been obtained from the patent office, andwhich, surely, were the most diverting toys imaginable.
"Poor things, to them they _are_ most valuable!" sighed Mrs. Winslow.She was making conversation about the Miller china; but Johnny-Ivan andPeggy not unreasonably conceived that she spoke of the beautiful churnsand hayraking wagons and cars and wheeled chairs and the like marvelswhich Miss Hopkins was amiably explaining for them.
