Evening Star Newspaper, March 18, 1923, Page 74

Publicity and Some of Its Results, Including a Romance of Our Square and a Eulogy of Wearing the Green. HAT men of the sobriety and standing of Cyrus the Gaunt, MacLanchan, Leon Coventry, the Littte Red Doctor and Boggs (1 do not count young Phil Stacey) should paint their noses green and frequent dublous cellars, lls tor explanation. The explana- tion 1s Barbran. . The Bonnie Lassie, whose artistic deviations often take her far afleld, met Barbran. They went for coffee io a queer little burrow decorated with improving sentiments from the immortal Lewis Carroll, which, Bar- bran told the Bonnie Lassle, was making its bluc-smocked, bobbed- haired, attractive and shrewd little proprictress quite rich. Barbran hinted that she was thinking of im- proving on the Mole's Hole idea, if she could find a suitable location. The Bonnie Lassie was not im- pressed. What did impress her about Barbran was a certain gay vet rest- ful charm, the sort of dificult thing that our indomitable scluptress loves to catch and fix in her wonderful lit- tla bronzes. She set about eatching Barbran. Barbran came to the Bonnie Lassie’s house, moused about our square in a rapt manner and staved. She rented a room from the Angel of (“Boggs Kills Bug the remainder his sign), just lafterr's apartments, and in the course of time stopped at ench looked at me contemplatively was a small person, with sh eyes. She sat down and smiled at me. “I'm going to start a coffee cellar,” ehe said of my She soft “You are, Miss Barbara Ann Water- | bur: \ “It is true that my parents named me that,” she sald, “but my friends call me ‘Barbran’ because I always used to call myself that when I was little, and I want to be called Bar- bran here.” “That's very friendly of you,” I ob- served. “You think I'm a fool.” served calmly. “But I'm not. going to become a local institution. A local institution can't be called Barbara Ann Waterbury, unless it's a creche or a drinking fountain or something like that, can {t?” It cannot, Barbran.” “Thank you, Mr. Dominie” Barbran gratefully. . She then proceeded to sketch out for me her plans for making her cof- feo cellar and herself a local insitu- tion, which should lure hopeful seek- ers for Bohemia from the far parts of Harlem and Jersey and even such outer realms of darkness as New Haven and Cohoes. “That's what I intend to do.” Barbran, “as soon as I get my 1dea worked out.” " THAT the great idea was I was to ‘f learn later from the lips of voung Phil Stacey, who appeared shortly after my new friend had de- parted, a pecullar look upon his ex- tremely plain and friendly face. Said youn Phil carelessly: “Dominie, who's the newcomer?” “That,” sald 1. “Is Barbran.” “Barbran,” he repeated with a ris- ing inflection. “It sounds like a breakfast food.” As she pronounces it, it sounds Uke a strain of music,” eaid L “What's the rest of her name™” “I am not officially authorized to communicate that.” “Are you officially authorized present your friends to her?” “On what do you base your claim to acquaintanceship, my boy?”’ I asked austerely. “Oh, claim! Well. you see. a couple of days ago she was on the cross- town car, and I—well, I just hap- pened to notice her, you know. That's all” “Yet T am informed on good and sufficlent authority that her appear- ance is not such as to commend her, visually. if T may so express myself, to the discriminating eye. “Who's ths fool Stacey hotl “Tut-tut. my young friend,” said I. *Certain ladies whom we both esteem can and will prove to the satisfac- tion of the fair-minded that none of the young person's features is ex- actly what it should be or precisely where it ought to be. Nevertheless, the net result is surprising and even gratifying.” “She's a peach,” companion. “Substantially what I was remark- As for your other hint, you need vo introduction to Barbran. Nobody does.” “What!” Phil Stacey's plain face Lecame ug A hostlle light glit- tered in his eyes. “What do you mean by that?” he growled. “Simply that she's about to become @ local institution. She's plotting mzainst the peace and security of our mquare, to the extent of starting a goffee house at No. 26. “No!” cried Phil jovously. Sews!’ “As a fad. She's a budding million- Wiress from the west.” “No!" growled Phil, his face fall- ing. “Bad news, eh? It occurred to me that she might want some decora- tions, and that you might be the one to do them.” In his leisure hours my young friend, who is an accountant by trade, perpetrates impressionistic decora- tions and scenery for such minor theaters as will endure them. “You're a grand old man, Dominie!" s2id he. ‘“Let's go!” We went. We found Barbran. We conversed. Half an hour later, when Y left them, they were deeply en- grossed In a mutual discussion upon @ecorations, religion, the high cost of living, free verse, two-cent transfers, Charley Chaplin, aviation and other equally safe topies. Did 1 say safe? Dangerous is what I mean. For when a youth who is as homely as young ¥hil Stacey and in that particular style of homeliness and a girl who is @s far from homely as Barbran be- gin at first sight to explore each other’s opinions, they are venturing §nto & dim and haunted region, light- «d by will o’ the wisps and beset with perils and pitfalls. * %k ¥ X HIL STACEY some three days thereafter came to my rooms, ‘Dominie,” said he, “I want to tap Four library. the works of Harvey Wheglwright?" “Love forfend,” said I. Phil looked surprised. “Is it as bad as that? she ob- said said great to began Mr. asserverated my “Good 1 didn’t sup- Death | over Madame Tai- ! and | T'm | | | | Phil | Barbran? nauseating virtues that any self-re- specting man would rather live in hades. No such people as his char- acters ever lived or ever could live, because a righteously enraged popu- lace would have killed 'em In early childhood. He's the smuggest fraud and best seller in the United States. Wheelwright? The crudest, shrewd- est, most preposterous panderer to weak-minded- 4 “Whew! Help! Ididn't know what I was starting,” protested my visitor. “As a llterary critic you're some big bertha, Dominie. 1 begin to suspect that you don't care an awful lot about Mr. Wheelwright's style of composition. Just the same, I've got to read him—all of him. Do you think T'll find his stuff in the Penny Circulator?" “My poor, lost boy! Probably not. It is doubtless all out in the hands of eager reade However, Phil contrived to round it up somewhere. The awful and un- suspected results I beheld on my first visit of patronage to Barbran's cel- lar, the occasion being the formal opening. A large and curious crowd of five persons, including myself and Stacey, was there. Outside an old English design of a signboard with a wheel on it creaked despair- Ingly in the wind. end, At the Sign the Wrighter 0 The interior of the cellar was deco- | rated with scenes from the novels of Harvey Wheelwright. triumphant vir- tue, discomfited villains, benignant blessings, chaste embraces, edifying death beds and orange blossoms. They were unsigned, but well I knew whose was the shame. Over the fire- place hung a framed letter from the great soul. It began: “Dear Young Friend and Admirer,” and ended, “Yours for the light. Harvey Wheel- wright.” The guests ate and drank every- thing in sight. They then left; that Is to say, four of them did. Finally Phif departed, glowering at me. I am a patient soul. No sooner had the door slammed behind him than T turned to Barbran, who was looking discouraged. “Well, what have you to say in your defense?” The way Barbran's eyebrows went up constituted in itself a defense fit to move any jury to acquittal, “For what?" she asked. “For corrupting my young friend Stacey. You made him paint those pictures.” “They’re very nice,” returned Bar- bran demurely. “Quite true to the subject.” “They're awful. They're an offense to civilization. They're an Insult to our square. Of all subjects in the world—Harvey Wheelwright! Why, Why, why, why “Business,” said Brabran. YExplain, please.” sald 1. “I got the idea from a friend of mine in Washington square. She got up a little cellar cafe bullt around Alice—Alice In Wonderland, Yyou kno and the looking glass. Though 1 don’t suppose a learned and serious person like you would ever have read such nonsense.” “It happened to be Fridi and there wasn't a hippopotamus in the house,” I murmured. “Oh said Barbran, brightening. “Well, T thought if she could do it with Alice T could do it with Harvey Wheelwright.” “In the name of Hatta and the March Hare, why?” “Because for one person who reads Alice nowadays ten read the author of ‘Reborn Through Righteousness’ and ‘Called by the Cause’ Ien't it 802" “Mathematically unimpeachable.” “Therefore, I ought to get ten times as many people as the other place. Don’t you think s0?” she inquired wisttully, “Undoubtedly." you love him?” “Who?" sald Barbran with a start. The faint pink color ran up her cheeks. “Harvey Wheelwright, of course. Whom did you think I meant?” “He is a very estimable writer returned Barbran primly. “Good-night, Barbran,” said I sad- Iy. “I'm going out to mourn your lost soul.” I agreed. “But do * ¥ ¥ ¥ NE might reasonably expect to find peace and quiet in the vicin- ity of one's own particular bench at 11:45 p.m. in our square. But there sat Phil Stacey. I challenged him at once. “What dfd you do it for?” To do him justice, he did not dodge or pretend to misunddrstand. “Pa said he. “Phil! that stuff: “Not exactly. I'm taking it out in trade—I'm going to eat there.” “You'll starve to death.” “I haven't got much of an appe- tite, “The inevitable effect of overfeed- ing on sweets. An uninterrupted diet of Harvey Wheelwright—" “Don’t speak the swine' tmplored Phil, “or I'll be sic Did you name,” “You've sold your artistic birth-| right for = mess of pottage, probably indigestible at tha: “I don’t care,” he averred stoutly. “I don’t care for anything except—— Dominfe. who told you her father was a millionaire?” “It's well known,” I sald vaguely. “He's a cattle king or an emperor of sheep or the sultan of the piggery or something. A good thing for Bar- bran, too, if she expects to keep her cellar going. The kind of people who read Har—our unmentionable author —don’t frequent Bohemian coffee cel- lars. They would regard it as reck- less and abandoned debauchery. Bar- bran has shot at the wrong mark." “The place has got to be a suc- cess,” declared Phil between his teeth, his plain face expressing a sort of desperate determination, “Otherwise the butterfly will fiy ack west,”” I suggested. The boy winced. ‘What man could do to make it a success Phil Stacey did, and hero- ically. Not only did he eat all his meals there, but he went forth.into the highways and byways and haled in other patrons (whom he privately paid for) to an extent which threat- ened to exhaust his means. Our square i{s conservative, not to Have you got any of [say distrustful, in its bearing toward innovations. Thornsen's Elite Res- taurant has always sufficed for our inner cravings. We are, I suppose, too old to change. Nor does Harvey pose there was anything wrong with | Wheelwright exercise an inspirational the stuff.” “Den’t you imperil your Young soul with it,” I advised earn- estly. *It reeks of poisonous plety. sway over us. We let the little mil- decent | lionairess and her Washington square importation pretty well alone. She advertised feebly in the “Where to &be world he paints is o full of |Eal” columns, catching & few stray Below was a leg- | the Wheel— | take money for| THE SUNDAY. STAR, WASHINGTON, D. O, MARCH 18, 1923—PART 5. BARBRAN outlanders, but for people didn’t comeé. Until the first of the month, that is. Then too many came. They brought their bills with them. the most part * Kok % VENING after evening Barbran and Phil Stacey sat in the cellar almost or quite alone. So far as I could judge from my occasional vis- Its of patronage, they endured the lack of custom with fortitude, not to say Indifference. But in the morn- Ings her soft eves looked heavy, and once, as she was passing my bench deep in thought, I surprised a look of blank terror on Ler face. One can understand that even a million- aire’s daughter might spend sleep- less nights brooding over a fallure. But that look of mortal dread! How often have I seen it. What should it mean, though, on Barbran's sunny face? Puzzling over the question, I put it to the Bonnie Lassie. “Read me a riddle, O Lady of the ‘Wise Heart. Of what is a child of fortune, young, stre#® :nd charm- ing, afraid?” At the time we were passing the house in which the insecticidal Angel of Death takes carefully selected and certified lodgers. “I know whom you mean.” said the | Bonnle Lassie, pointing up to the lit- tle dormer window which was Bar- bran's outlook on life. a signal. What do there?” “It appears to pasted to the window, Justing my glasses. *Upside down,” Lassle. “How can a handkerchief be up- side down?” I fnquired. Contempt was all that it brought me. “Metaphorically, of course! It's a signal of distress. In what distress can Barbran be?” “In what kind of distress are most people who live next under the roof in our square?” “She’s doing that just to get into our atmosphere. She told me so her- self. A millionaire’s daughter—" “Do millionaire’s daughters wash thelr own handkerchiefs and paste them on windows to dry? Does any woman in or out of our square ever soal her own handkerchiefs in her own washbow! except when she's desperately saving pennies? Did you you see up be a handkerchief said T ad- the said Bonnle ! ever wash one single handkerchief in your rooms, Dominie?” “Certainly not! It isn't manly. Then you think she lsn't a million- airess?” “Look at her shoes when next vou see her,” answered the Bonnle Lassie conclusively. “I think the poor little thing has put her every cent In the world Into her senseless cellar and she's golng under. “But, good heavens!” T exclaimed. “Something has got to be done.” “It's going to be.” “Who's going to do it?" fe,” returned the Bonnie Lassie, who {s least grammatical when most purposeful. “Then,” said I, “the fates may as well shut up shop and providence take a day off. The universe has temporaril: Can I help?” The Bonnie Lassie focused her gaze in a pecullar manner upon the exact center of my countenance. A |sort of falry grin played about her lips. “I wonder if—— No,” she sighed. “No. I don't think it would do, Dominie. Anyway, I've got six without you." “Including Phil Stacey?” “Of course” retorted the Bonnie Lassie. “It was he who came to me “Interpret me | changed its management. | “It would be mortifying,” admitted Cyrus the Gaunt, “if it weren't in a good cause.” “What cause?” I asked. “Come out of there!" said Cyrus the Gaunt, not to me, but to a figure lurking In the shrubbery. The Little Red Doctor emerged. I took one look at his most distinctive feature. “You, too!” I said. “What do you returned the Little Red Doctor glumly. “It's a cult,” sald Cyrus. “The credit of the notion belongs not to me, but to my esteemed better half. A few chosen souls—" “Here comes another of them.” I proached. ‘Who is it? Mac- Lachan!” The old Scot appeared to be suffer- ing from a severe cold. Tis hand- Kkerchief was pressed to his face. “Take it down, Mac I ordered “It's useles He did so, and my | worst suspleions were confirmed. | “He bullied me into it declared {the tailor, glowering at Cyrus the Gaunt. 11l do your nose good,” declared Cyrus jauntily. “Give it a Complementary colors, you What ho! Our leader.” Phil Stacey appeared. Following him were leon Coventry, huge and shy, and the lethal Boggs looking unhappy. “Where are you ail | manded. “To the Wrightery,” said Phil, Ts it a part “It's a gathering.” “Am I included?” “If you'll Not on any account,” 1 declared firmly. Tt had just occurred to me Know. going?” 1 de- “THE POOR NOSE,” MURMURED BARBARA. for help. I'm really doing this for him.” “I thought you were doing it for Barbran.” “Ob,” she's just a transposed Wash- ington squarer,” answered the tyrant of our square. “Though she's a dear kiddle, too, underneath the nonsens “Do I understand—" “I don't see,” interrupted the Bon- nie Lassie sweetly, “how you could. I haven't told you. And the rest are bound to secrecy. But don’t be un- duly alarmed at anything queer you may see in our square within the next few days. * Kk ok ok O LY by virtue of that warning Wi I able to command the emotions aroused by an encounter with Cyrus the Gaunt some evenings later. He wi hurrying across the park space in the furtive manner of one going to & shameful rendezvous, and upon my hailing him he came up with a rather swaggering and nochalant effect. “Good evening, Cyrus,” I said. ‘Good evening, Dominie.” “Beautiful weather we're having.” “Couldn’t be finer.” “Do you think it will hold?" “The paper says rain tomorrow. “Why is the tip of your nose painted green?” “Is it green?” inquired Cyrus, “Emerald,” sald 1. “It looks as if it werq mortifymg.* why the Bonnie Lassie had centered | her gaze upon my features. ‘“Follow your indecent noses as far as you like. I stay.” Still lost in meditation, I may have dozed on my bench, when heavy, measured footsteps aroused me. I looked to see Terry the cop. I peered at him with anxiety. “Terry,” I inquired, “how is your nose?” “Keen, Dominie,’ said Terry. He sniffed the air. “Don’t you detect the smell of illegal alcohol”™” “I can't say I do.” It's very plain,” declared the offi- cer, wriggling his nasal organ, which, 1 was vastly relieved to observe, re- tained its original hue. “Wouldn't you say, Dominie, it comes from yon- der cellar?” “Barbran's cellar?” “L am Informed that a circle of dangerous char-ackters with green noses gather there and drink clder containing more than two-seventy- ifive per cent of apple juice. I'm about to pull the place.” “For do tha I} Heaven's sake, Terry, don't You'll scare—" “Whisht, Dominie!” interrupted Terry with an elaborate wink. “There’ll be no surprise, except may- be to the judge in the morning. You better drop in at the court.” ® ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ the round-up I have no details, 0 axcopt that it seemed to be change. | | conjectured, as a bowed form ap-|quictly conducted 1 i(nquind, FIASCO IN EMBITTERED TONE! The case was called the next day before Magistrate Wolf Tone Hanrahan, known as the “human judg He heard the evi- dence, tested the samplé, announced his intention of coming around that evening for some more, and honor- ably discharged Barbran. nd what about th gazing upon e min he the dauntless “Dangerous suspects, | sald Terry the cop. hey look mild as go " returned the magistrate, “though now I get me eye on the rid-hidded wan (with a friendly wink at the Little Red Doctor), T reckonize him as a desprit charackter that'd save your 1ife as soon as look at ye. What way are they dang'rous?” “When apprehended.” replied Terry, looking covertly about to see that the reporters were within hearing dis- tance, “their noses were palnted | gTeen 1s this true?” trate of the six. “It is, your honor,” they replied. “An’ why not!” demanded the hu- man judge hotly. ‘“'Tis a glorious Offcer, ¥ e exceeded yer Let ‘em paint their noses anny color they lolke; but green for pref- erence. I'm tellin' ye, this is the land of freedom an' equality, an’ ivery citizen thereof is entitled to life, liberty and the purshoot of hap- asked the magis- { piness, an’ a man’s nose is his castle, an' don't ye forgit it. Dis-char-rrged: Go an’ sin no more. I mane, let the good worruk go awn! “Now watch for the evening pa- pers” said young Phil Stacey exult- antly. “The Wrightery will get some free advertising that'll crowd ft for months.” Alas for youth's golden hopes! The evening papers ignored the carefully prepared event. One morning paper published a paragraph, attributing the green noses to a masquerade party. The conspirators, gathered at the cel- lar with their war-paints on (in case of reporters), discussed the flasco in embittered tones. Young Stacey raged against a stupid and corrupt press. MacLachan epressed the acidulous hope that thereafter Cyrus the Gaunt would be content with making a fool of himself without implicating inno- cent and confiding friends. The Bon- nie Lassie was not present. but sent word (characteristically) that they | must have done it all wrong: men had no eense, anyway. The party then sent out for turpentine and broke up to reassemble no more. Only Phil Stacey, inventor of the great idea, was | still faithful to and hopeful of it. Each evening he consclentiously greened himself and went to eat with | Barbran. * *x % MME justified his faith. One eve- ning there dropped a plump man vho smiled sweetly at Phil, and in- troduced himself as a reporter of the Sunday Universe Magazine — and where was the rest of the circle? In a flurry of excitement, the pair sent for Cyrus the Gaunt to do the talking. Cyrus arrived, breathless and a trifle off color (the Bonnie Lassie had un- fortunately got a touch of bronze scenic paint mixed with the green, so that he smelled like an overripe banana), and proceeded to exposition. “This,” he explained, “is a new cult. It is based on the back-to-the-spring idea. The well-spring of life, you know. The-er-spring of eternal youth and—and so forth. You understand’ “I hope to,” said the reporter po- litely. “Why on the nose?" i will explain that"” returned Cyrus, getting his second wind; “but first let me get the central idea in your mind. It's a nature movement; a readjustment of art to nature. All nature is green. Look about you.” Here he paused for effect, which was unfortunate. “Quite s0,” agreed the reporter. “The cable-car, for instance, and the dollar bill, not to mention the croton bug and the polar bear. But, pardon me, 1 interrupt the flow of your elo- quence.” “You do,” said Cyrus severely. “In- animate nature 1 speak of. All in- animate nature is green. But we poor fellow creatures have gotten away from the universal mother-color. We must get back to it. We must learn, Yeronner,” | s milk to | THE CONSPIRATORS, GATHERED AT THE CELLAR WITH THEIR WAR-PAINTS ON, DISCUSSED THE to think greenly. But first we must learn to see greenly. How shall we accomplish this? Put green in our eves? Impossible unfortunately. But our noses—there is the solution. In direct proximity to the eye, the color, | properly applied, tints one’s vision of all things. Green shadows in a green | world.” mooned Cyrus the Gaunt| | poetically. *“As the bard puts it: *‘Annfhilating all that's made To a green thought in a green shade.” “Wait a minute.” said the visitor, | and made a note on an envelope back. ccordingly, Miss Barbran, the daughter and heiress of a millionaire | cattle owner in Wyoming (here the reporter made his second note), has | estabiished this center where we meet | |10 renew and refresh our souls.” “Good!" sald the benevolent report- er. “Fine! Of course it's all bunk—-"" * ochioed Barbran and Phil, 1 while Cyrus sat with his lank | jaw drooping. “You don't see any of your favor- lite color in my eye, do you?" in-| |quired the visitor pleasantly. ‘“Just| what you're putting over I don't | know. Some kind of new grease paint, perhaps. Don't tell me. It's good enough, anyway. Il fall for it. It's worth a page story. Of course, I'll want some photographs of the mural paintings. They're al- most painfully beautiful. What's wrong with our young friend? Is he sic he added, looking with a: tonishment at Phil Stacey, who was exhibiting sub-nauseous symptoms. “He painted 'em,” explained Cyrus, | grinning. “And he's Barbran. “Yes; 1 wouldn't wonder. Well, I won't give him away.” said the kindly journalist. “Now, as to the member- ship of your circle o The Sunday “story” covered a full page. The “millionairess” feature was played up conspicuously and re- peatedly, and the illustrations did what little the text failed to do. It was a “josh story” from beginning to end. “T'll kill that plous fraud of a re- porter.” declared Ph “Now the place i Barbran. ‘Wait and see” advised the wiser sorry.” supplemented ruined,” mourned | * x * REAT is the power of publicity! The Wrightery was swamped with custom on the Monday evening following publication and for the rest of that week and the succeeding week. “1 never was good at flgures.” said |pa who was | walkin' long ago. | cause Ivrybody looks as though they | la shout an’ befur ve can think it's BY SAMUEL HOPKINS ADAMS “It's going to be a failure,” she sa.d dismally, “Then you're going away?’ he asked, trying to keep his voice from quaking. She set her little chin quite firmly. ‘Not while there's a chance left of pulling it out.” “Well, it doesn't matter as far as I'm concerned,” he muttered. “I'm going away myself.” “You?" She sat up very straight and tled. “Where?" “Kansas City."” “Oh! What for’ “Do you remember a fat old grand- here last month and came back to ask about the decora- “He's built him a new calls it a mansion—and he wants me to paint the music room. He likes"— Phil gulped a little—"my style of art.” “Isn’t that great!” sald Barbran in the voice of one glving three cheers for a funeral. “How does he want his music room decorated?” Young Phil put his head in his handi “Scenes from Moody and Sankey,” he said In a muffied voice. “Good gracious! TYou aren't going to do it?” “I am.” retorted the other gloom- s good money.” Almost im- mediately he added: “Darn the You mustn't do that. You must go, of course, Would—will it take long?" “I'm not coming back.” “I don’t want you not to come back,” said Barbran {n a queer, frightened voice. She put out her hand to him and hastily withdrew it. He sald desperately: ‘*What's the use? I can't sit here forever looking at you and—and dreaming of—of im- possible things, and eating my heart out with my nose painted green.” “The poor nose!” murmured Bar- bran. With one of her home-laundered handkerchiefs dipped in turpentine she gently rubbed it clean. It then looked (as she sald later in a fecble attempt to palllate her subsequent conduct) very pink and boylsh and pathetic, but somehow faithful and reliable and altogether lovable. So she kissed it. Then she tried to run away. The attempt failed. * % ¥ ¥ T was not Barbran's nose that got | kissed next. Nor, for that matter, was it young Phil's. Then he held her off and shut his eyes, for the un- | trammeled exercise of his reasoning | powers, and again demanded of Bar- bran and the fates: “What's the use?” “What's the use of what? turned Barbran tremulously. “Of all this? Your father's & mil- lionaire, and I won't—I can't— re- Mr. Dooley On (Continued from Second Page.) I have to tow thim now. “But if ye'll cast ye'er eye over at th' northeast corner iv th' sthreet be- low an’ see a dignified-lookin’ gintle- man standin’ in a group iv ladies an’ childher with two Hinnissies on his shoulders an’ another on his head. that'll be me! e promised to take ye'er family to see th'ol' fellow battlin’ with th' {limints. “Th' sthreets ar're lined with people, but there is no disturbance. They have no throuble keepin' th' polis in ordher. Did ye iver see a polisman get rough with a Pathrick’s day crowd? There was wan wanst. I know because I helped bury him. “This is wan day whin th' con- stablry has got to have manners. It's no longer ‘Get back there,’ but Won't ye plaze stand back out iv th' way? ‘Come an' put me back.’ ‘Won't ve kindly step back? ‘T will not. ‘But th' lady behind ve can't see.' Why didn't ve say so at first? Excuse me, madam. Btep right up. Bring up th' children. Terence, get out iv th’ way. Officer, take off ye'er hat or keep movin'. D've think ye're made iv glass, just because a wurrud frm me wud break ye at head- quarters?’ “It's a long Wait, but nobody minds. It's nachral. Tt takes a long time f'r to start a Pathrick’s day parade be- ought to be in front. | “There ar-re many false alarms an' cries iv ‘Here they come,’ frm th' children. Finally a fellow that's been up on a lamp post since 8 o'clock glve begun: * ok * * ! € UT in front on horseback is the chief marshal. Niver did = house—he | | dowry | |an “He isn't cried Barbran you can—you will!” “He {sn't?" ejaculated Ph is he?” “He's a school teacher, and | haven't got a thing but debts!” Phil received this untoward news as if a flock of angels, ringing joy bells, had just brought him the glad dest tidings in history. After an in- terlude he said: “But, why" “Because,” said Barbran, burrow- ing her nose in his coat, “I theught 1t would be an asset. I thought peo ple would consider it romantic gnd would help business. See how muc that reporter made of it! Ph! Wh-wh-why are you treating me lik |a—a—a— dumbell? For he had thrust her away from him at arm's length again. “There's one other thing us, Barbran.” “If there is, is 1t?” “Harvey Wheelwright” he said solemnly. “Do you really like that sickening slush-slinger? She raised to him eyes in whio a righteous hate quivered. “T loat! nim. I've always loathed him. ! despise the very ink he writes wit and the paper it's printed When I happened in @ few minute nd “Whal ) between What it's vour fault. {later, they were ritually burning the “Dear Friend and Admirer” letter in slow candle flame, and Harve: Wheelwright, as represented by unctuously rolling signature, w writhing in merited torment. T tween them they told me their littlc romance. “And Cir; he's not going to Kansas £aid Barbran deflantly. ‘m not going anywhere, ever away from Barbran,” said young Phi “And he's golng to paint what he wants to. “Plctures of Barbran,” sald youns Phil. “And we're going to burn the Wheel sign in efigy and wipe off the walls ar.d make the place a success said Barbran “And we're going to be marric: right away,” said Phil. “Next week,” sald Barbran. ‘What do you think?" sald both Now T know what I ought to hay- said just as well as MacLachan him self. I should have pointed out tl folly and recklessness of marrying o twenty-five dollars a week and of debts. 1 should hav. preached prudence and caution anu delay, and have pointed out—The wind blew the door open. spring was in the park, and the w odor of little burgeoning leaves was borne in, wakening unwithered men ories in my withered heart “Bless you, my children sald | (Oopyright. All Rights Reserved.) St. Patrck’s Day An' Wexford! Play ‘Th’ Boys iv Wex ford. “What's that noise up th’ sthreet Here they come! Here ar-re th' fel lows fr'm the best county in Irel See thim, will ye, with their mar thread an’ their chins in th' air. Thes make all th® rest iv th’ parade look like pigmies. “Roscommon {'r me. Lave go iv I tell ye I will march with thim! me poor feet, my threachorous, infirn feet. “An’ who's that out in front? Lok childher, look, I tell ye! There he is There's da-da! “An’ up ye come, Hinnissy, with th big banner flyin’ in th' wind above ye're head an' th’ staff stuck so deen into ve that maybe ‘twill take Dock O'Leary to get it out “Ye can't look ayether to th' righ or left. Ye can't see where ve're go in’ Ye're eyes ar-re stralght ahead | But if that banner goes ye're goin with it. Hang on, me friend. Tack Tack! Throw her over. Bring he around. That's it “An’ 80 ye go by an’ I gather up th childher an' take thim home to put th' slippers in front iv th' stove an? make th' poultice f'r ye. * X % % u‘vnm. I didn't intend to get ex cited over this Pathrick’s Day but somehow or other ivry time comes arround I feel like goin' up th' roof an’ singin’ ‘O’'Donnell Aboo 20 all may hear. I don’t know w “Maybe.” said Mr. Hennes: < because ye're Irish. “1 hadn’t thought iv that,” said M: Dooley. “P'raps ye're right. Its something I niver have been able to get over. Be this time it's becoms incur'ble habit “Annyhow 'tis a gool thing to be an Irishman because people think that all an Irishman does is to laug i horse cut up th' way that horse does. It waltzes, first, thin it does 2 JiE, thin it fox trots over tords th' crowd the transported Barbran to Phil Sta- cey at the close of the month, “but as near as I can make out I've & clear profit of $8.70. My fortune is made! And it's all due to you. Had the Bonnie Lassie been able to hold her painted retainers in line, the owner's golden prophecy might |have been made good. But they had other matters on hand for their even- ings than sitting about in a dim cel- lar gazing cross-eyed at their own scandalous no MacLachan was the first defection. He said that he was going crazy and he knew he was going blind. The Little Red Doctor was unreliable, owing to the pri sure of professional calls. He com- plained. with some justice, that a green nose on a practicing physician tended to impair confidence. Then Leon Coventry went away, and Boggs discovered (or invented) an impor- tant engagement with a growing family of clothes moths in a Connec- ticut country house. So thers re- mained only the faithful Phil. One swallow does not make a summer, nor does one youth with a vernal proboscis convince 2 skeptical pub- lic that it is enjoying the fearful companionship of & -subversive apd revolutionary cult. Patronsge ebbed out as fast as It had flooded in. Bar- bran's eyes were as soft and happy as ever in the evenings, when she and Phil sat in a less and less inter- rupted solitude. But in the morning: palpable fear stalked her. Phil never saw it. He was preoccupied with a dread of his own. One evening of howling wind and hammering rain, when all was cozy and home-like for two in the little firelit Wrightery, she nerved herself up to facing the facta |top iv that crazy antmal as if he was till all th' ladles scream. Ye'd think it'd been loaned to th’ marshal be an inimy an' is thryin’ to throw th’ marshal off. : “But is that hero scared? Ye bet he ain't. He sets as comfortable on in a rockin’ chair at home. There's an aisy smile on his face. He waves his baton at th’ cheerin’ popylace. Be hivins, th’ man cud ride a ibex! “Afther him come his aide: body iv horsemen, all but Clancy. ‘Whin he stops in front iv me he say: ‘How do I.look? ‘Ye look fine,’ says 1 ‘But pride goeth befure a fall,’ I ‘Go on with ve' says he. charger cudden't throw me hundherd years,’' he says. “‘Well,’ says 1, ‘T've r-read in th' #00d book that th' proud will be hum- bled an’ thim that ride on Pathrick’s day will walk th’ r-rest iv th' week, I says. “Thin comes th' dhrum major with a bearskin cap on th' back iv his head an' he throws th’ stick to th’ top iv Finucane's hall an’ catchés it on th® end iv his little finger. “They're playin' ‘Th’ Wearin' iv th’ Green.’ “Here they come—th’ Zouaves, the Hibernyan Rifles, th' anclent order. A fine bunch fv Kerrymen. Well done, kerry! “Here's th’ Corkonyans! Look at th' crowd iv thim! Is annybody left be- hind in Cork's own city? “That's Tipp'rary. Hurrah f'r th' Tips. An’ Kilkenny! Iv all th' towns iv Ireland Kilkenny 't me. See th' dark May-o-men! ‘Be th’ blessed sun, ‘tis royally I'll sing thy praise, Mayo.' without reason an' fight without & objick. “But ye an' I, Hinnissy, know these things ar-re on'y our divarsions. It's a good thing to have people size y. up wrong, whin they've got ye'er measure ye're in danger.” “Sometime I think we boast too much,” eaid Mr. Hennessy. “Well,” said Mr. Dooley. “it's on on Pathrick's Day that others blow our horns f'r ue. (Copyright, 1825.1 Mother of Invention. INGENUITY Was manifested to =« notable degree in Spain and France at the time of the last solar eclipse. The windows fn Madrid Paris and other cities were filled witi, & great variety of devices for viewiny the passage of the moon across the sun’s disk without danger to the ol server's eyes. There were blaci spectacles, black blass monocles black glasses set in pasteboard han dles of twenty different forms, and also devices for viewing the phe nomenon by reflection. But the pec ple made many contrivances of theiy own, such as pinholes through pape: or through the tops of derby hats Some viewed the eclipse in the streets or on the roofs by reflection from pails or pans of water to reduce the glare, and some saw it through cam- bric handkerchiefs or thin umbrella tops. The bookshops abounded with paper-bound treatises on eclipses —_— The elephant does not smell with his trunk. His olfactory nerves are contained in a eingle nostril, which is in the roof of his mouth, near the frout. Young/