Evening Star Newspaper, January 28, 1923, Page 70

4 Tuttle Wa‘s Alway;: Ready for Any Charh.n'ng or Dramatic Adventure. in -His Travels R. GEORGE TUTTLE, reclin- ing at ease in his llmousine, opened one eye just enough to percelve that daylight had reached his\part of the world, then closed that eye and mur- mured languidly. What he sald. however, was not “Home, Parke: or “To the club, Eugene." This mur- mur of his was ot only languid but plaintive. A tear appeared upon the lower 1id of the eye that had opened, for it was a weak and drowsy eye, and after hours of solid darkness the light fretted it. Moreover, the tear, as a greeting to the new day, harmonized perfectly with Mr. Tuttle's murmur, which was so little more than a husky ‘breathing that only an acute ear close by could have caught it: “Oh, Gosh!" Then he turned partly over, shifting his bedy so as to lie upon his left side among the shavings that made his limousine such a comfortable bedroom. After thousands of years of wrangling, economists still murder one another to emphasize varying ideas of what con- stitutes the ownership of anything, and | some people (the m@st emphatic of all) maintain that everybody owns every- thing, which is obviously the same as saying that nobody owns anything, es- pecially his own right hand. So it may be a little hasty to speak of this limou- sine, in which Mr. Tuttle lay finishing his night’s sieep, as belonging to him in particular; but he was certainly the only person who had the use of it, and no other person in the world belleved himself to be its owner. A doubt better founded may rest upon a definition of the word “limousine’™; for Mr. Tuttle's limousine was not an automobile; it had To engine. no wheels, no steering gear; neither had it cushions nor glass; yet Mr. Tuttle thought of it and spoke of 1t as his limousine and took some pleas- ure in such thinking and speaking. Definitely. it was what 1s known as a “Nmousine body” in an extreme but{ permanent state of incompletion—that is to say, the wooden parts of a “limousine body” had been set up, put together on a “buck,” or trestle, and then ubandoned with apparently the same abruptness and finality that marked the departure of the Pompeiian baker who hurried out of his bakery and left his bread 2.000 years in the oven. So sharply the “post-war in- dustrial depression” had struck the factory that the workmen seemed to have run for their lives from the place, leaving everything behind them just as it happened to be at the mo- ment of panic. And then, eighteen months afterward, the excavator, Tut- tle, having dug within the neighbor- Ing city dump-heap, one cold evening, to no profitable result, went to explore the desert spaces where once had been the bustling industries, and found this body of a limousine, just as it had been abandoned by the workmen fleeing from ruln. He partly filled it with shavings and thus made a home. * ok * ¥ 1S sheiter was double, for this lit- tle house of his itself stood in- doors, under a roof that covered acres. When the watery eye of Mr. Tuttle opened, it beheld a room vaster than.any palace hall, and so littered with uncountable other auto- mobile bodies in embryo that their shapes grew vague and small in the distance. But nothing living was here except himself; what leather had been in the great place was long since devoured, and the rats had de- parted. A night watchman, pald by the receiver in bankruptey, walked through the long shops once or twice & night, swinging a flashlight, but he was unaware of the tenant, and usually Mr. Tuttle, in slumber, was unaware of him. The watery eye, having partly open- ed and then wholly closed, remained closed for another hour. All round about, inside and outside the great room, there was silence; for beyond these shops there were only other shops, and others and others, cover- ing square miles, and all as still as & village mlidnight. They were as quiet as that every day In the week; but on week days the cautious Tuttle usually went out rather early, be- cause sométimes a clerk from the re- cel office dawdled about the place with a notebook. Today was Sunday; mo one would eome; so he slept as long as he could. His reasons were excellent ag rea- sons, though immoral at the source. That s to say, he should not have had such reasons. Iie was not well, and sleep is healing; his reasons for slesping were therefore good. Bu. he should mot have been unweil; his indisposition was produced by sin; he had broken the laws of his coun- try and had drunk of illegal liquor, atroclous in quality; his reasons for sleeping were therefore bad. His sleep was not a good sleep. From time to time little manifesta. tions proved its gross character; he lay among the shavings 118 a fat grampus basking in seafoam, and he breathed like one; but sometimes his mouth would be pushed upward in misdirected expansion his cheeks would distend and then suddenly col- lapse after explosion. Lamentable sounds came from within his cor- rugated throat and from deeper tubes; his shoulders now and then jumped suddenly and his upper ear, long and soiled, frequently twitched enough to move the curl of shaving that lay upon it. For a time one of his légs trembled violently, then, of its own free will and without waking him, it bent and straightened repeat- edly, using the motions of & leg that Courrae: Auen: “WHAT!” BOJUS CRIED, AND STOOD THERE MORE INCREDULOUSLY. yet he might well enough have sat for the portrait of an older brother of Mr. Hoey's masterplece, “Old Hoss. * % * ¥ AVING stroked his beard with & fat and dingy hand, he uttered detached guttural complaints in Eliz- abethan monosyllaples, followed these with sighing nolses, then, at the in- sitgation of some feeling of horror, shuddered excessively, opened his eves to a startled wideness and abruptly sat up in his bed. To the interior of his bosky ear, just then, was borne the faint religious sound of church bells chiming in a steeple miles away in the center of the city, and he was not pleased. An expres- ston of dlsfavor slightly altered the contours of his face, he muttered de- flantly and decided to rise and g0 forth. Nothing could have been simpler. The April night had been chilly, and he had worn his shoes, no nightgear had been exchanged for other gar- ments—in fact, no more was to be done than to step out of the limousine. He did so, taking hif greenish and too plastic “derby” hat with him, and immediately he stood forth upon the factory floor as well equipped to face the public as ever. Thus, except for several safety pins, glinting too brightly where they might least have been expected, he was a most ex- cellent specimen of the protective coloration exhfbited by man, for man has this instinct undoubtedly. On the bright beaches by the sea, how gayly he conforms is to be noted by the dullest observer; in the autumnal woods man goes dull green and dead leaf brown, and in the smoky city all men, inside and out, are the color of smoke. Mr. Tuttle stood forth, the color of the grimy asphalt streets on which he lived, and if at any time he had chosen to rest in a gutter, no extraneous tint would have hinted of his presence. Not far from him was & faucet over a sink, and he went to it, but not for the purpose of altering his appear- ance. Lacking more stimulating liquid, it was the Inner man that wanted water, and he set his mouth to the faucet, drinking long, but not joyously. Then he went out to the sunshine of that bright spring morn- ing, with the whole world before him, and his the choice of what to do with it He chose to walk toward the mid-; dle part of the city, the center of bankimg and trade, but he went slowly, his eye wandering over the is walking and appears to be going somewhere. Having arrived at its destination it rested, whereupon its owner shivered and, thinking he pill- ed a blanket higher about his shoul- ders, raked a few more shavings upon him. Finally he weke and, still keeping his eyes closed, stroked his beard. . It was about six weeks old and no uwncommon ornament with Mr. Tuttle, for usually he wore either & beard or something that was on the way to become one—he was indifferent which, though he might have taken pride in so much originality in an over-rasored age His round and somewhat oily head, decorated with this beard upon a face a little blur- ved by Iits own pufiiness, was & relic, the Iast survival of & type long ago glorjously” portrayed and set before & Bappy pubdlic by that adept in the most perishable of the arts, Willlam Heey. Mr. Tuttle was heavier In ‘bedy thap the blithe comedian’s crea- tiom, I8 is true—he was incomparably slower in wit and lower i spirits, pavement, and 80, before long, he decided to smoke. He was near the great bullding of the railway station at the time, and, lighting what wa now his cigarette (for he had a match of his own), he leaned back against a stone pilaster, smoked and gazed unfavorably upon the taxi- cabs in the open square Wefore the station. As he stood thus, easing his weight against the stone and musing, he was hailed by an acquaintance, a tall negro, unusually limber at the knees and nalvely shabby in dress, but of aimable expression and soothing man- ners. “How do, Mist' Tuttl he said nially, in & light tenor voice, “How the worl’ treatin’ you vese days, Mist' Tuttle? 1 hope evathing movin' the ri’ way to please you nicely.’ Mr. Tuttle shook his head. “Yeh!" he returned sarcastically. ‘“Seems like it, don't it! Look at "em, I fest ast you. Look at ‘em!” “Look at who?” “At them taxicabi Mr. Tuttle re- the men, women and chuldren in this city put together.” “Yes, suh, You own a livvy stable one time, Mist' Tuttle?” “I didn’t exackly own one,” the truthful Tuttle, “but that's the business I grew up In. I'm a hor. man, and I like to sleep around a horse. I drove a hack for the old B. P. Thomas Livery and Feed Company over twenty years, off and on—off and on, I did. I was a horseman all my life and T was In the horse business. I could go anywhere In the United States and I didn’t hat to carry no money with me when I traveled: I could go into any town on the map ald plied with sudden heat. “That's a'-nd make all the money I'd cars to nice sight fer decent people to hat to look at!” And he added, with rancor: “On a Sunday, too!" “Well, you take them taxicabs now,” the negro said, mildly argu mentative, “An" what hurt they doin’ to nobody to fes’ look at ‘em, Mist' Tuttle? I fine myse'f in some difi- culty to git the point of what you was a-settin’ you'se’f to point out, Mist' Tuttle. What make you so in- dustrious 'gains’ them taxicabs?”’ “I'll tell you soon enough!" Mr. Tuttie said ominously. “I reckon if they’s a man alive in this here world today. I'm the one 't can tell you jest exactly what I got against them taxicabs. In the first place, take and look whero the United States stood twenty years ago, when they wasn't any o' them things, and then take and look where the United States stands today, when it's full of ‘em! I don't ast you to take my word fer it, T only ast you to use your own eyes and take and look around you and see where the United States stands today and what it's comin’ to!" x Kok o UT the colored man's perplexity was not dispelled; he pushed back his ancient soft hat in order to stimulate his brain, but found the or- gan still unstimulated after adjacent friction, and said plaintively: “I cain’ seem to grasp jes’ whur you aimin’ at. What you say the ‘United States com- in' to? " “Why, nowhere at all!” Mr. Tuttle replied grimly. “Thls country’s be'n 2ll rulned up. You take and look at what's left of it, and what's the use of {t? I jest ast you the one simple question. Well, Bojus: What's the use of 1t? Just tell me that!" “You got me, Cap'n,” Bojus admit- ted. “I doe' know what you aimin’ to say 't all! What do all them taxi- cabs do?” “Do?” his friend repeated hotly. “Wha'd they do? You take and look at this city. You know how many people it's got in 1t2” “No, I don’t, Mist’ Tuttle. m, though!” “Heap? I sh'd say they was! They's hunderds and hunderds and hunderds o' thousands o’ men, women and chul- dren in this city; you know that as well as 1 do, Bojus. Well, With all the hunderds o' thousands o' men, women and chuldren in this city, I ast you, how many livery—stables has this city got in §t?" “Livwy stables, Mist' Tuttle? Lemme see. 1 aip’t made the observation of no livvy stable fer long time.” Tuttle shook a soiled forefinger at him severely. “You ain't answered my question. Didn’t you hear me? I ast you the simple question: How many livery stables is they?” “Well, 1 ain't see none lately; guess 1 doe’ know, Cap'n.” “Then I'l tell you” said Tuttle fiercely. “They ain’t any! What's more, T'll bet twenty thousand dol- lars they ain't five livery stables left in the whole United States! That's a nice thing, ain't it!” Bojus look at him inquiringly, still rather puzzled. “You interust you'se'f in livvy stables, Mist’ Tuttle?” At this Mr. Tuttle looked deeply annoyed; then he thought better of 1t and smiled pityingly. “Listen here,” he said. “You listen, my friend, and I'll tell you something 't's worth any man's while to try and understand the this-and-that of it. I grew up in the livery stable business, and J guess if they’s & man alive today, why, I know more about the livery stable business than all the rest Heap of 1 |handle. I'd never go to & boarding house. What's the use of a hired room and all the useless fixin's ir it they stick you fer? No man that's got the gumption of a man wants to waste his money like that when they's a whole nice livery stable to sleep in. You take some people—women, most likely—and they git finicky and say it makes you kind of smell. ‘Oh, don't come near me! they'll say. Now, what kind of talk Is that? You take me, why, I like to smell like a horse.” “Yes, suh,” said Bojus. “Hoss smell ri* pleasan’ smell.” “Well, 1 should say it i Mr. Tuttle agreed emphatically. “But you take a taxicab, all you ever git a chance to smell it's burnt grease and gasoline. Yes, sir, that's what you got to smell of if you run one o them things. Nice fer a man to carry around on him, ain't 1t?” He laughed briefly, in bitterness, and continued: “No, sir; the first time I ever lald eyes on one I hollered, ‘Git a horse!’ But if you was to holler that at one of ‘em today the feller'd prob’ly answer, ‘Where'm I goin' to st one? I ain't scen a horse I'd be willin' to call a horse, not fer I don’t know how long.” o0, suh,” Bojus assented. “I guess s0. Man go look fer good horse he fine a mighty fewness of 'em. I guess automobile put horse out o' business—an' horse man, too, Mist' Tuttle.” “Yes, sir, I guess It did. First four, five years when them thin come in, why, us men In the livery- stable business, we jest laughed at ‘em. Then, by and by, one or two stables begun keepin' a few of ‘em to hire. Perty soon after that they all wanted 'em, and & man had to learn to run one of ‘em or he was liable to lose his livin'. They kept gittin' worse agd worse—and then, my goodness, didn’t even the under- takers go and git ‘em! ‘Well,' 1 says, ‘I give up! I give up!’ I says. ‘Men in this business that's yeung enough and ornery enough’ 1 says, ‘why, they can go ahead and learn to run them things. I can git slong nice with a horse,” I says. ‘A horse know. what you say to him, but I ain' golng to try and talk to no engine. * % * % B paused, frowning, and applied the flame of & match to the half-inch of cigarette that still re- mained to him. “Them things ought to be throwed in the ocean,” he said. “That's what I'd do with ‘em!” “You doe’ like no automobile?” Bojus inquired. “You take you' en- joyment some way else, I guess, Mist’ Tuttl “There's jest one simple question I want to ast yo Mr. Tuttle said. “Spoge & man's, been drinkin® & little —well, he can git along with a horse all right—like as not, & horse'll take —but where's one o' them things Tiable to take him?” ? “Jall,” Bojus suggested. _ “Yes, sir, or right over the bank into some creek, maybe. I don't won’t mothin’ to do with 'em, and that's what I says from the first. I don’t want nothin’ to do with ‘em, I says, and I've stuck to it.” Here he was interrupted by a demand upon his attention, for his cigarstte had become tao short to be held with the fingers. He inhaled a final breath of smoke and tossed the tiny frag- ment away. “I own one of ‘em, though,” he said lightly. At this the eéyes of Bojus widened. “You own automoblle, Mist' Tuttle?” “Yes, I got & limausine.” more incredulously. limasine? Whur you got it?” “1 got it," said Tuttle, with an air of reticen: “I'got my own use fer it. I don't go showin' off like some men.” Bojus was doubtful, yet somewhat impressed, and his incredulous ex- pression lapsed to a vagueness. “No," ‘Mighty nice to ride roun’ n & limasine, though. I doe’ know where evabody gitfall the money. Money ain’t come knockin’ on Bojus' doe, beggin’, ‘Let me in, honey! No, suh, the way money act with me, it act like it think I ain’ goin’ use it “You got a/ | “YOU GOT A LIMOUSINE!” right. Money act ltke I ain't lovin® frien’ He laughed, and Mr. Tuttle smil- ed condescendingly. “Money don't amount to so much, Bojus,"” he said. ‘Anybody can make money! “They Kin?” “Why, you take a thousand dol- lars,” said Tuttle, “and you take and put it out at compound interest— Jest leave it lay and go on about your business—why, It'll pile up and pile up; you can't stop It. You know how much it'd amount to in twenty- five years? Over a million dollar: “Whur all that million ~dolluhs come from?” “It comes from the poor,” said Mr. Tuttle solemnly. “That's the way all them rich men git thelr money, gougin’ the poor.” vell, suh,” Bojus fnquired rea- sonably, “what about me? I iike to git rich, too. Whur's some poor I kin go gouge? I'm willin‘ to do the gougin’ if I kin git the money.” “Money ain't everything,” his friend reminded him. “Some day the peo- ple o' this country’'s goin' to raise and take all that money away from them rich robbers. What right they got to it? That's what I want to know. We're goin' to take it and divide it among the people that need its i Bojus laughed cheerfully. “Tell Bojus when you goin' begin dividin'l He be on han' “Why, anybody could have all the money he wants, any time,” Tuttle continued, rather Inconsistently. “Anybody could.” “How anybody goin’ git 1£7” “I didn’t say anybody was goin’ to; 1 said anybody could.” “How could?" , “Well, you take me,” said Tuttle. “John Rockafeller could drive right up here fiow, If he wanted to. S'pose he did; e'pose he was to drive right up to that curbstone there and s'pose he was to lean out and say, ‘Howdy do, Nir. Tuttle. Git right in and set down, and let's take a drive. Now, Kow much money would you like me to hand you, Mr. Tuttle? ” “Hoo-00!" cried Bojus in high pleasure, for the sketch seemed beau- titul to him; so he amplified it. “How much_meney you be so kine as to invite"me to plitely han' ovuh to you? Hoo! Jom B. Rockfelluh take an’ ast me, I tell 'im, ‘Well, Jes han’ me out six, sevvum, eight,” nine hun- nud dolluhs; that's do fer this weck, but you come roun’ nex' Sunday an’ ast me same. Don't let me ketch you not comin’ round’ every Sunday, now! Hoo! I go Mist' Rockfelluh's house to dinnuh; he say, ‘Please pass me that blg gol’ dish o' money an' a scoop, so's I kin fill my soup plate! Hoo-00!” He laughed joyously; and then, with some abruptness descend- ed from these roseate heifhts and looked upon the actual earth. in' about how much money you and me like to use, Mist' Tuttle,” he con- cluded. “He ain’ comin’ roun’ this Sunday, nohow!" “No, and I didn’'t say he was" Mr. Tuttle protested. “Well,” said Bojus, “whyn't he go on ahead and do it, then? Res' of us willin'? “That's jest the trouble,” Tuttle complained, with an air of reproof. “You're willin’, but you don't use your braine.” i “Braine?” sald Bojus, and laughed. “Brains ain’’ goin’ make Bojus no money. What I need is a good lawn- mo’. If I could take and buy me a nice, good lawn-mo’, I could make all the money I'm a-goin’ to need the 1ve-1ong summuh.™ “Lawn mower?” his friend inquired. ain’t got no house and lot, have ydu? Wha. you waut of a lawn mower?" “I gwready got a raRe,” Bojus ex- plained. “If I had a lawn mo' I could make th'ee, fo', i’ dulluhs & day. See that spring sun settin’ up there a-gittin' ready to shine so hot? She's goln' to bring up the grass knee high, honey! I kin take a lawn mo’ an’ walk ‘long all vese resident’al streets; git a dozen jobs.a day If I kin do 'em. I truly would like to git me a nice good lawn mo’, but I ain’ got no money. I got a diamon’ ring, though. I give a diamon’ ring fer a good lawn mo". “Diamon’ ring?" Mr. Tuttle inquir- ed with some interest. “Le’ss see It.” “Gran’ big diamon’ ring,” Bojus said, and held forth his réght hand for inspection. Upon the little finger appeared a gem of notable dimen- slons, for it was a full quarter of an inch In width, but no one could have called it lustrous; it sparkled not at all. Yet its dimness may have been a temporary condition that cleaning would relleve, and what struck Mr. Tuttle most unfavorably was the fact that it was set in a metal of light color. “Why, it ain’t even gold,” he said. “That's a perty poor sample of a diamon’ ring I expect, Bojus. Nobody'd want to wear a dlamon’ ring with the ring part made o' silver. Truth is, T never see no diamon’ ring jest made o silver, before. Where'd you git §t2" “Al Joles.” - “What'd you give Al Joles for it?" “Noth! sald Bojus, and laughed. “Al Joles, he come to where my ‘cousin Mamle live las’ Febrary an bo'de with 'er week or so, 'cause he tryln’ keep 'way f'm jail. One day he say this city too hot, he got to leave; and Mamie tuck an' clesn up after him, an’ she foun’ this ring in & cragk behine the washstan’. Al Joles drop it an’ fergit it, I reckon. He had plenty rings.” “I recko: “Al Joles show Mamie fo' watches an' a whole big han' ful o’ dlamon’ pins an’ rings an’' chains. Say he got 'em in Chicago, an' he tuck 'em all with him when he lit out. Mamle she say this ring worf I’ six thousan’ dolluhs.” “Then what fer'd she take and give it to you, Bojus?" “She di'n.” said Bojus. “She tuck an’ try to sell it to Hillum's secon’ han’ joolry sto' an' Hillum say he won’ bargain fer it ‘count its bein’ silvuh. So she trade it to me fer a nice watch chain. I llke silvuh ring well as gol' ring—'s the diamon’ counts; diamon’ wort #', six thousan’ dalluhs, I ain' carin’ what jes' the ring part is. “Well, it's right perty,” Tuttle ob- served, glancing at it with some favor. “I don't hardly expect you could trade it fer no lawn mower though. T expect—" But at this moment a symptom of his indisposi- tion interfupted his remarks. A slight internal convulsion caused him to shudder heavily; he fanned his suddenly bedewed forehead with his hat and seemed to eat invisible but distasteful food. “You feel sick, Mist’ Tuttle?” Bojus inquired sympathetically, for his com- panion’s appearance was a little dis- quieting. “You feel bad “Well, I do,” Tuttle admitted, feebly. "l eat a ham bone yestiddy that up and disagreed on me. I ain't be'n feelin' none too well all'morning} if the truth must be told. The fact is, what I need right now—and I need it right bad,” he added—"it's a little liquor. You know where any is7" “Don’t I!" the negro exclajmed. “I know where plenty is, but the trouble is: How you an' me goin’ git it7" “Where is 1t?" “RI' dow' my cousin Mamie' celluh. My cousin Mamie’ celluh plum full o' Whi* Mule. Early's mawn' I say, ‘Mamie, gi' me little nice smell 0’ you' nice whisky? Does she do it? No, suh! “Let's go on up there and ast her again,” Tuttle suggested. “She might be feelin' in a nicer temper by this time. Me bein’ sick and it's Sunday 4nd all, why, she ought to'show some decency about it. Anyways, it wouldn't hurt anything to jest try. “No, suh, tha’s so, Mist' Tuttle,” the negro agreed with ready hopefulness. * x * % HEY went several blocks up the street, walking rather slowly, as Mr. Tuttle, though eager, found his indisposition increased with any rapidity of movement; then they turned down an alley, followed it to another alley, and at the intersection of that with another, entered a:smoke- colored cottage of small pretensions. “Mamie!” Bojus called, when they had closed the door behind them, Mami Then, as they heard the response to this call, both of them had the warm- ing sense of sunshine rushing over them; the world grew light and bright and they perceived that luck did not always run against worthy people. Mamie's answer was not in words, yet it was a vocal sound and human; somewhere within her some- thing responded to the call and en- deavored to speak. Silently they opened the daor of her bedroom and looked upon her where she reposed. She had consoled herself for her dis- appointment, she was peaceful, in- deed, and the callers at once under- stood that for several hours at least she could deny them nothing they would ask. They paused but a mo- ment to gaze, and then, without a il him right on back home to the stable | reckon Jom B. Rockfelluh ain' stedy- word of comment upon their incredi- ble good fortune, they exchanged & single hurried glance and forthwith | descended to the cellar. Our own, our native land, somewhat generally lawless in mood of late, has produced few illegal commodities more effective than the feroctous liquid rich iz fusel oll and known as White Mule. Overconfidence in himself was not a faling of the experfenced Tuttle, and he well knew the potencies of the vol- canic stuff with which he dealt. His sincere desire was but to rid himself of the indisposition and nervousness that depressed him, and he Indulged himself today with & Jighter hand than usual. He wished to be at ease in body and mind, to be happy and to remain happy; therefore he stopped at the convivial, checking himself firm- 1y, and took a little water. Not so the less calculating Bojus, who had nothing of the epicure about him. Mr. Tuttle soon found himself alone, so far as conversation or companionship THE FANCINATING STRANGER were concerned. Bojus still lived, but hat no animation. His more cautious friend, on the con- trary, feit life freshening within him; his physical uncertainties had disap- peared from his active consciousness; he was a new man, and said so. “Hah!" he sald, with great satisfaction and in a much stronger voice than he had dared to use earlier in the day. Optim- ism came to him; he began to believe that he was at the end of all his | troubles, and he decided to return to | the fresh air, the sunshine and an | Interesting world. “Le'ss git outdoors | and eee what all's goin' on!" he said | heartily. But first he took some precautions for the sake of friendship. Fearing that all might not go well with Bojus if Mamle were the first to be stirring and happened to look into her cellar, | he went to the top of the stairs and locked the door there upon the Inside. | Then he came down again and once more proved his moderation by placing only one flask of Mamie's distillation in his pocket. He could have taken much more if he wished, but he some- times knew when to say no., In fact, he now said it aloud and praised him- | self a little. “No!" No sir!” he said to some applicant within him. “I| know what’s good fer you and what ain't If you take any more you're | llable to go make & hog of yourself | again. Why, fest look how you felt when you woke up this morning. I'm | the man that knows and I'm perty | smart, too, If You ever happen to no- | tice! ‘You take and let well enough | alone.” He gave a last glance at Bojus, a glance that lingered with some Inter- O the editor: Just recd. a! clipping from 1 of the papers which its a cable dispatch from London in reganis to how much dough s wasted every yr. | printing English and French letters | which is silent and don’t mean noth- ing you might say, like for inst you take the English wd. write and | the w on the head end of it might | as well be dropped in the ash can for all the good it does and as a matter of fact might better be drop- ped in the ash can because write s a wd. that, gets a whole lot of use and by leaveing the w off, why when ever the wd' was printed they would be a saving of 20 per cent in the cost of printing. The party that got up this dope has figured it out that 13 out of every 100 letters in the French lan- guage Is silent and unnecessary and the annual expenses of printing these no good letters amounts to 2 and a % million dollars per yr. Personally I would estimate that the useless French letters runs as high as 99 per cent as far as I am conserned and they has even been whole yrs. when I have succeeded in makeing myself understood around the home without never resorting to the native tongue of Lafayette and Descamps. The dispatch goes on to say that the wastage In England is 12 per cent, or 1 per cent less than French, but on acct. of how many more Eng- lish wds. is printed than French. why the cost of the letters that don't mean nothing in English wds. runs up to the huje total of 37 and 2 1-2 million dollras per yr. o all and all the Englishmens and Frenchmens and Americans and other people that uses 1 of these 2 lan- guages pays 40 million dollars a yr. for the printing of letters that is as useless as a moustache cup at Wellesley. * k %k X OW leave us see If they's any bases for the above figure or if they was arrived at by guest work and the best way to find out would be to lst. write down a ordinary business letter like a business man would dictate same though of course very few business men talks Eng- lish but any way we will write it down and then we will write it again with the silent letters left out and see what the different amounts to. Mr. Cornelius McGillicuddy, Manager, Philadelphia American League Baseball Club, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Dear Sir: You will be called on Wednes- day afterncon by Miss Virginia Knight who wishes a position as stenographer. I have known Miss Knight many years and can recommend her as industrious, capable, experienced and quick. Yours sincerely, LLOYD GEORGE. Now we will cut out the ..tters that ain’t needed In the above and here s your letter: Connle Mack, Phila, Pa. Dear Sir: Yu will be cald-on Wed. P.M. by Mis Va Kt. who wishs position as stenog. Have nown Mis Kt many yrs. and can recomend her as 0. K, Yrs. sy., LOYD GEO. Well, according to my count the document 1st. wrote down contains 298 letters. The 2d one contains 128 letters, and they ain't no change In the meaning between the 2 of them. So it looks like who ever it was that done the figuring in London, why he was putting it mild when he says the waste was only 13 per cent as in the samples which 1 have wrote the waste Is somewheres between 55 and 60 per cent and might even be reck- oned as high as 100 per cent, because Connle Mack has all ready got & good stenographer. = ® v Bu’r 1 don’t want to dwell no Jonger on the written language because some of the smart Alex amongst my readers is libel to figure out that) every letter In this here article could be left unprinted and the < article wouldn't loose nothing of its value, but before closeing I would like to say something in regards to the spoken language and not only letters in same Is wasted but whole wds. and even whole sentences. | now felt himselt con; BY BOOTH. - TARKINGTON est upon the peculiar diamond ring: ovut he decided not to carry it away with him, because Bojus might be overwhelmingly suspicious later; “No, &ir,” he sald, "you come along now and let well enough alone. We want to git out and see what's goin' on all over town! * % % HE inward pleader consented; he placed a box against the wall, mounted it, and showed a fins persistence in overcoming what ap- peared to be Iimpossibilities as he contrived to wriggle himself through a window narrower than he was. It suited his new mood to associate himself now with all that was most brilliant and prosperous, and so, at a briskish saunter, he walked those streets where stood fine houses in brave lawns. It was now an hour and more after noon, the air was lively, | Yet temperate in the sunshine, and the wealth he saw In calm display about him invigorated him. Shining cars passed by, proud ladies at ease within them; rich little children played about neat nursemaids stroll- ing upon the cement pavements; haughty young men strode along, flashing their walking-sticks; nobls big dogs with sparkling collars gal- loped over the bright grass under tall trees, and with all of this Tuttle nfal and even inymate. Moreover, he had the con- viction that some charming and dra- matic adventure was about to befall him; it seemed to be just ahead (To be concluded in Star.) All Rights Reserved.) next Sunday's (Copyright. WASTED LETTERS, WASTED WORDS BY RING LARDNER Like for inst. suppose a man comes |up and says how are you. “Well." |you say, “I ain't so good. I rode { home Monday night in a open car and catched a bad cold.” That is 2 sentences containing 19 wds. which you might as well of saved your breath because when a person asks how are you they don't mever THEY HAS EVEN BEEN WHOLE YRS. WHEN I HAVE SUCCEED- ED IN MAKEING MYSELF UN DERSTOOD ~ AROUND THE HOME WITHOUT NEVER RE- SORTING TO THE NATIVE TONGUE OF LAFAYETTE AND DESCAMPS, hear the answer unlest you are their wife or husband or sweetheart and then only for the 1st couple wks. Maybe some of you will think of the old saying that talk is cheap and don't cost nothing so what is the differents how much & person says that ain't listened to. * ok ok % ELL, friends, T will say in reply that they's another old faying, namely so and so is just wasting his breath and that means that who ever is talking, why it don't do him no good but just the same he s useing up breath to talk with. And when & man dies they say he has breathed his last. So what T claim is that if & person te carefull with their wds. and don't say nothing unlest it means some- thing and somebody is listening to it. why they will live a whole lot longer on acct. of haveing more breath left to breathe with. We read that Methuselah lived to be several 100 yrs. old and everybody thought he was a wonder, but they’s enough breath wasted in the smoking rm. on a trip between N. Y. and Washington or vice versa so that if the owners of same had of held on to it they would be in a position some day to stop Methuselah on High street and say what a pretty baby. RING W. LARDNER, Great Neck, Long Island, Jan. 26 Machine Measures Sleep. N ingenious sleep recorder has been invented by a doctor. A thick rubber pad is placed on the floor under one of the bedposts at the head of the bed, and the post is connected to a delicate lever writing on a drum revolved by clockwork. The slightest movement of the person on the bed creates a wave that Is accurately timed and recorded on the drum. It is claimed that a person- awake cannot simulate the quiet of sleep for many minutes and that the waves of movements in sléeep can be easily distinguished from those made when awake. The instrument may be made to give the physician & sleep record of his patient without the latter's knowledge, while & connected electric bell may signal the nurse when the patient awak X-Rays and Coal. BRITISH experimenter suggests that the X-ray furnishes a ready means to detect stony impurities in coal. _ Carbon’is very transpargnt to the Roentgen rays while silica s opaque to them, Consequently the silicates, which form slag when coal is burned, can be seen like a skeleton when the shadow of the coal is pro- jected on an X-ray fluorescent screen.