Evening Star Newspaper, December 19, 1926, Page 95

THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C. 1926—PART 5. -~ THE OTHER DAY DECEMBER 19, HE Twentieth Century Limited leaves Chicago for New York shortly after midday. It is provided with all the comforts necessary to make the journey a happy one. o 2 stenographer “I shall want the stenographer, s4id to the porter. “On this—the train superb,” veplied the porter with a slight bow, “to wiht ' something is to have it.”” and he re ’ tired, leaving me to gaze out at the State of Indina, which was rushing t my window at a terrific rate radually a poem began to form in brain 0 Indiana.” it hégan. 1 was interrupted the compartment door 1 said opened and m; by a knock on “Come in,’ door a face ap- ¢ pardon,” it said T repeated. Il be| ready for you in a minute. ! He came in rather doubtfully, wear- | fng_a how tie ! “I'm just in the middle of a poem.” | 1 explained. i “But,” he said, or rather, he started | to say ! “'Sit down,” I interrupted, cordially. | Perhaps you can help me.” He sat down carefully. djusted his tie. It's a poem about Indiana.” ained, “and I'm stuck.” “I see.” he said, and then, after n inute, he offered, with a little hesi ion. “"banana.’ Banana what?' 1 asked. 's a rhyme, ' he explained. with Indiafa.” Oh,"” T said. “Thank vou." “Not at all,” he replied—and once more his hands played nervously with that bright yellow necktie ““As a matter of fact,” 1 continued, “I don't think I can use ‘banana’ be- cause this is 20ing to be more or less of an eplc noem—sort of herolc— on a large The kind of thing they read w 1 they want to lay a c er stone. “1 mee,” he replied. and the a minute of silence, he asked you use ‘a great big banana T shook my head “I was afraid vou couldn't,” he said | “Here," 1 suggested; “how's this: | Indiana—thou —"" | topped. " 1 said, “that won't do." thought it was pretty good,” he said, “and not a bit too long.” s Then he | 1 ex- | It | | | atter | Could 1 s | GRADUALLY A POEM BEGAN TO FORM IN MY BRAIN. “That was just the beginning,” I | explained. | “Oh," he said. “Was there going to be more?” “Ot course,” I replled. “I want to [work in something about the history | of the State—and the famous men who have come from there——"" He started to rise If you don't mind— ‘Perhaps vou're right,” “Sit down and we'll start dictation.” “With the what?" he asked “The dictation,” I replied. “We'll let the epic poem wait. Now the first letter T want you to write is to M Gregory ;. Adams, 449 East V road, Johnstown, Pa He was and looking ' he said i with the Dear A little alarmed “Is that too fast?" I asked. oo fast for what?" he For you to take down.” I replied “What's the matter—haven't you got a pencil?” He began searching pockets, “Here," T said, becoming a little im- patient. “Take mine.” He took it. “Mr. Gregory Adams,” again, “449 East Valley road T looked up. Now what?" 1 asked you any paper either?” Once more he began to search. “Oh, all right” 1 said. “Here some of my wife's writing paper. Use that.” “He took the paper and began to ex- amine it “Mr. Gregory G- He was readin on the paper. “There is something written on this paper,” he said “T suppose s0,” T replied. “My wife writing lefters.” He gave me a us look H'mm.” he said, and then he looked out of the window. “How long has this been going on?" he asked “How long on?" 1 replied. He read through the letter once more and then handed it to me. 'm_sorry, old man,” he said, “T wouldn't have shown it to you if T hadn’t thought it was for the best.” 1 took the letter and read it. “Dear Bob” it said, “How can T ever thank you enough for that lovely—" The next word had been scratched out and the word “salad fork” substitut- ed. By holding the letter to the light I saw that the erased word was “can- dlestick.” 1 smiled and turned to my companion. “That was my 1 said “I hope sighed. “What do you mean?” T asked. “Men don’t give women salad forks without some reason.” he replied. “Of course, they don't,” 1 said. “This was given us as a wedding present. We've just en married.” His face slowly lighted up. “Then you knew about this letter?” he said. “Of course, through 1 began “Haven't something written has what been going wife's mistake,” it is not irrevocable,” he 1 did,” T replied. replied. | Valley sitting there watching me | “I'm awtully glad,” he said. “By | George—I'm awfully glad. And that of course, explains these two letters, | too.” | He handed me the note paper. The first one began “Dear Tom | How can I ever thank you enough fo those lovely salt and pepper shakers—" his | The second one was “Dear Ralph: How can T ever thank you enough for those lovely nut ~and bonbon dishes—— 1 did not read any further. “Your wife seems to have a very definite literary style,” was his com- ment. “Shall we go on with the dictation?" T asked. He was examining the letters very closely. Finally he frowned and took a small magnifying glass from his pocket. “Excuse me a minute,” he said, with- out looking up. “Certainly,” I coldly. At last he put the letters down. “Do you know anything about hand- writing?” he asked. “Not a thing,” I repliel. He cleared his throat and straight- ened his tle. “I wouldn't have brought the sub- ject up,” he sald, “except that—" He stopped. “Except that what?" I asked. replied, somewhat He leaned over and put one hand on v knee. | Can I be frank, old man?" he asked rank about what?" I sald. Nothing,” he replied, with a shake {of his head, “except that your wife is | very, very unhappy.” | “How do you know?" I asked. He picked up one of the letters. e ——— VYV | "-".' S Y “EXCUSE ME Q\\\\ AN - S A MINUTE,” HE SAID, WITHOUT LOOKING | name. “Look at that ‘g, ing. I looked. “‘That {sn’t “That's a 'k.’" “She may have mispelled the word,” " he said, point- a ‘g'" T asserted. he said. ‘“Very likely,” I replied, “but evenat | that, she wouldn’t spell ‘fork’ f-o-r-g.’ “Unless,” he suggested, “she were of German or Swedish descent. Is she of German or Swedish descent?” o, T replied. “Are you sure?” he asked “Positive,” T replied. “She was | born in America.” | “I'm very glad to hear that,” he | said. “Very, very glad, indeed. And 2" he asked, pointing. a ‘w,’" I replied. | gan a series of | tions and muitiplications. | 1shed. By Donald Ogden Stewart t T was afrald.” he add ed, “that it was a ‘q.” Lincoln made ‘q’s’ like that fust the night before he was shot,” No," T replied. “It'sa ‘w.’ That the way they make them in the boar ing school she went to." “You make me very said. “My, I was worrie t fina! i happy,” ho ! And ma | T ask one more question,” “Certainly,” T replied. ou say vour wife was born in | America?” he said es,” I replied “May I ask when?" “October 22d," T replied, 1902 He put that down on & piece of pa ‘And her first name? “Beatrice,” 1 replied. That also went down. Then he additions, subt Finally he looked up. \ “And the date of your birth is?" I told him. I also told him my first That was followed by a con siderable amount of figuring on two other sheets of paper. At last he fin He was smiling. “It's all right,” he sald. “What's all right?"" I asked Your marriage.” he replied. 1 breathed a sigh of relief ““That’s great,” I said, “and now wonder if you would mind it 1 di tated that article There was a knock on the door. “Come in,” I said. It was my wife. “Oh, come in, dear.,” T sald. “He some one I want you to meet.” She entered. “This is Mr.—— “Graham,” he replied. “This {s Mr. Graham," I said He took my wife’s hand smile. “I'm glad everything's all right, sald. She looked to me for an explanation “Mr. Graham and I have been doing some dictating,” I explained. “Oh,” she said. “I hope you have finished."” “Not quite,” I replied, “but we can call it off until later.” Mr. Graham looked at his watch “I really must be going,” he said hope you don’t mind.” “Can u come back about asked. He shook his head. “I'm afraid not,” he said. “My wife and I get off at the next station. And I think we are pretty much on time. He put his watch away, adjusted his tie for the last time, smiled once more at my wife and went out. In & minute some one knocked. was the porter. “The stenographer has been very ir, with another client,” he satd, think he will be at your service presently.” “Tell him come about 5, I said “I shall ask him to come at that hour,” he said and retired. 1 * he repeated. ““Well, now, (Copyright. 1926.) LD JUNK AND NEW MONEY mmm A Study of the Latest BY STEPHEN LEACOCK. WENT the other day into the beautifui home of my two good friends, the Hespeler- | Hyphen-Joneses, and | paused a | moment, as my eye fell on the tall clock that stood in the hall. “Ah,” said Hespeler-Hyphen-Jones, “I see you are looking at the clock —a beautiful thing, isn't it’—a gen- aine antique. “Does it go?" 1 as “Good gracious, no!” exclaimed my two friends. “But isn't it a beautiful thing!” Stone-Age Cemetery. ROF. DALL® OSSO, a distinguish- ed Italian antiquarian, while ex- cavating at Valle Vibrato, in the Am- bruzzi, made an important archeolog- ical discovery—a burial place of the | Stone Age. The bodles were not | buried, but were laid in small cabins, two, three or four in each cabin, and were arranged in these little huts on low platforms that sloped toward the | center. With only a single exception, the | bodies rest on one side, with the knees | drawn up. It is assumed that the ! dead were placed in this position to | give them the attitade of praver, for it has been established that the cus- | tom of praying on the knees was | already in existence in the Stone Age | of Egypt. In one of the cabins, almost in the center of the group, there are no bodies, but a big circuiar hearth, round which, it is assumed, from the quantities of bones of animals and | fragments of broken earthenware pots | around it, the funeral banquets hield. The objects found in the cabins with | the bodies are important from the archeological point of view, for they prove the existence of a degree of civ- ilization never before observed in the | Neolithic Age. . Did it ever go?" “I doubt it,” en-jones. “The works, of course, are by Salvolatile—one of the really great ciockmakers, you know. But I don't know whether the works ever went. That, 1 believe, is one way in which u can always tell a Salvolatile. If a genuine Salvolatile, it won't go.” “In any case” I said, “it has no hands.” “Oh, dear, no,” said Mrs. Jones, “it never had, as far as we know. We| picked it up in -such a queer little | shop in Amalfi and the man assured us that it never had had any hands. He guaranteed it. That's one of the things, you know, that you can teil by. Charles and I were terribly keen about clocks at that time and really etudied them. and the books all agreed | that no genuine Salvolatile has any | hands.” “And was the side broken, when you got it,” T asked. “Ah, no,” said my friend, ““we be2 that done by an expert in New rork after we got back. Isn't it exquls- itely done? You see, he has made the break to look exactly as if some one had rolled the clock over and stamped on it. Every genuine Sal- volatile is said to have been stamped upon like that. “Of course, our break is only imi- tation, but it's extremely well done, isn't {t? We go to that little place on Fourth avenue, you know, for everything that we want broken. They have a splendid man there. He can break anything.” “Really’” 1 said. “‘Yes, and the day when we wanted the clock done, Charles and 1 went down to see him do it. It was really quite wonderful, wasn't it, Charles?” | “Yes, indeed. The man laid the clock on the floor and turned it on its side and then stood looking at it intently, and walking round and round it and murmuring in Italian as {f he were swearing at it. Then he jumped it too, | said Hespeler-Hyph-| “WE HAD THE SIDE BROKEN BY AN EXPERT—EXQUISITELY DON! in the air and came down on it with both feet.” “Did he?” T asked. ‘‘Yes, and with such wonderful ac- curacy. Our friend, Mr. Appin- Hyphen Smith—the great expert, you Sparkling Repartee Is Notable Feature Of Trial of Humorist’s Divorce Petition Chapter XXV of Autobiography. | By RING LARDNER N recounting the trial of my di- vorce suit, I forgot to include an example of the sparkling repar. tee between counsel for the op posing sides, which, I believe, ts well worth publication. At one stage of the proceedings, my lawyer, ‘Attorney Dumb, made the remark that Hugga's lawyer, Mr. Wheedle, looked as if he had forgotten to shave that merning. “So do you! Wheedle without an tion. ! " Not long after this Mr. Wheedle objected to Mr. Dumb's habit (amount- ing almost to a knock) of snapping the varlous court attendants’ sus- penders. It really was annoying both to the attendants and the rest of us; the nolse was deafening. (Editor's Note: Consult Holabird on | “What Shall We Do With Suspen der Snappers?”’) “If the court pleases,” &aid Mr. Wheedle, “I believe this trial could be gotten through with a great deal more pleasantly if counsel for the plaintiff would pay less attention to the attendants’ suspenders. i “1 presume counsel for the defense | wears a belt,” retorted Mr. Dumb sar- | oastically. | “I would like to belt you in the | jaw?" exclaimed Mr. Wheedle. ““You look like a horse!” said Mr.| Dumb. “Is that why vou keep riding me?"” asked Mr. Wheedle ven Judge Ogle could not sup. press a smile, but quickly recovered his dignity and pounded on his desk | with dental floss. | This badinage probably had no ef-| fect on the outcome of the trial, but | as a result of it the two attorneys| were later persuaded to give up the profession of law and join the s of the Harvard Lampoon Like Jack Dempsey, I became popu- lar in defeat and when I returned to New York I found awaiting me an invitation to attend an exclusive lun replied Atterney instant's hesi- “OH, DAT WATAHMELON! OH, DAT WATAHMELON HANGIN’ ON DE VINE!” SANG HER MAJESTY, TER OPENER. Queen of Rumania. Those excluded | She was plainly dressed in a Mother were the assistant bell captain and Joe Muriosi of the men's washroom. I found Marie a n of a ready quick wit, a woman who spoke Ru , BEATING TIME WITH AN OYS- Hubbard and Plus Fours. “Po'k chops; dat’s ma dish,” she “Bring me some sald to the waiter. o' dem po’k chops and sweet potato. brown. Nice, brown po'k chops is ;omethln‘ Marie don’t like nothin’ else ut.” “The watermelon is good today,” suggested the walter. ““Oh, dat watahmelon! Oh, dat watahmelon hangin’ on de vine!" sang her majesty, beating time with an oyster opener. After dessert, the head porter in- troduced Col. Willlam Grenfall, who helps open taxi doors at the Fifty- eightlr street entrance. “Friends,” said Col. Grenfall, “it Is a coincidence that,royalty should visit America in this year of all years, the year of the Sesquicentennial Ex- position as well as the hundredth an- niversary of the ‘Youth’s Companion.’ This reminds me of a story told me last night by my good friend Junius Gabbett who calls trains at the Grand Central Station.” “What does he call them?” inter- rupted the queen. “Trains,” replied Col. Grenfall with an amused smile. ‘“You will stop me, I trust, if you have heard the story before. It seems there were —'" Col. Grenfall was paged at this point; it developed there was a taxi at the Fifty-eighth street entrance and the door stuck. (Editor's Note: Probably something the matter with it). (Author's Note: Must have been). ‘The queen, responding, said the only disturbing feature of her trip had been the announcement of the athletic break between Haryard and Princeton, which had apparently | plunged the entire country in gloom {and which she called the most im- portant event in United States his- tory since Marc Connelly, playing alone at Coldstream, missed a putt that would have given him a 124. (To be continued), (Copyright. 1926.) A floating drydock that has been installed at SBouthampton, England, is the world's largest and can lift the cheon at the Plaza in honor of the maniau with only a trace of accent.| An' make de po'k chops nice an’ greatest ship afloat. ‘| Wott I pulled it de durr hulmost huff | know—was looking at our clock Tast week, and he said it was marvelous, hardly to be distinguished from a genuine fractura.” “But he did say, didn't he, dear," said Mrs. Jones, “that the better way is to throw a clock out of a fourth- story window? You see, that was the height of the Iatilan houses in the thirteenth century—is it the thir- teenth century I mean, Charles?"” “Yes,” sald Charles. “Do you know, the other day I made the silliest mistake about a spoon. I thought it was a twelfth century spoon and said so, and in reality it was eleven and a half. ‘Wasn't it, Charles?"” “Yes,” said Charles. “But do come into the drawing room and have some tea. And by the way, since you are interested in an- tiques, do look, please, at my teapot. “It looks an excellent teapot,” T said, feeling it with my hand, “and it must ve been very expensive, wasn't it?" “Oh, not that one,” interposed Mr. Hespeler-Hyphen-Jones. “That {is nothing. We got that here in New York—to make tea in. It is made of solid silver, of course, and all that, but even the clerk admitted that it was made In America and was prob- ably not more than a year or so old and had never been used by anybody lelse. In fact, they couldn’t guaran- tee it in any way “Oh, I see,” I said. “But let me pour you out tea from it and then do look at the perfect darling beside it. Oh, don't touch it, please; it won't stand up.” “Won't stand up?” I said. “No,” sald Hespeler-Jones, “that's one of the tests. We know from that that it is genuine Swaatsmaacher. None of them stand up."” “Where did you buy it?” T asked. “Here?"” BY MILT GROSS. | ‘WAS de night befurr Chree: mas und hall troo he houze Nota critchure was slipping— not ivvin de souze, j I Wot he leeved in de bazement high- het like a Tsenator, Tree s whooeezit—dot's right— it's de jenitor! Hong opp was de stockings, site by site, Bivvy Dizz, Lace pentlzz, seelk hankizz; here witt dere & chimmizz; Pricldding de Yooltite de ivvining it was— When it gave on de durrbell de bozzer a_bozz. Und hout from de night wheech be- low was from Zero. It gave hexclamations, a woice, “Hul- Kirro!” I rushed to de durr witt a spreent troo de foyer, Like hefter a hembulence spreent: Cohen, mine loyyer. It was ronning from plaszhure hall hover me tinges from de heenges. It stoot dere a ront jost so high teel de durrknob. De faze fool from wheeskers and esmooking a curncobb, From he had to de hills sotch a werry shore deestance I naver befurr saw in hall mine ax- eestance. De nose it Wwas beeg like a berrell from peekles, . I weesh I should hev sotch a nose fool from neeckles! De woo leedle lags was so shutt witt 80 bendy— Wott onder de seenk he made tsom- mersults dendy. So GEEVE a look; GEEVE a look— GEEVE a look—QUEECK ! 11 Geeve a look wot it stends in de durr- way St. Neeck !!! Hozz Doneer witt Bleetzen witt Desh- er witt Dencer? ? ? Hozz Comet witt Weexen—I hesk you a henswer! ! “Hozz Comet witt Teexen witt Prencer witt Cupit? ? “Oh, heavens, no; you couldn't buy a thing like that here! As a matter of fact, we picked it up in a little gin shop in Obehellandam in Holland. Do you know Obehellandam?” “I don't,” I said. “It's just the dearest little place— nothing but little, wee, smelly shops filled with most delightful things—all antique, everything broken. ~They guarantee that there is nothing in the shop that wasn't smashed at least & hundred years ago.” ““You don’t use the teapot to make £ id. " sald Mrs. Hespeler-Jones as she handed me a cup of tea from the New York teapot. “I don't think you could. It Jeaks.' “That again is a thing,” said her husband, ‘“that the experts always look for in a Swaatsmaacher. If it doesn’t leak it's probably just a faked up thing not 20 years old.” “Is it sllver?” I asked. “Ah, no. That's another test,” said Mrs. Jones. ‘“The real Swaatsmaach- ers were always made of pewter, bound with barrel iron off the gin bar- rels. They try to imitate it now by using silver, but they can't get it.” “No, the silver won't take the tar- ' interjected her husband. ‘“You see, it's the same way with ever so many of the old things. They rust and rot in a way that you simply can- not imitate. I have an old drinking horn that I'll show you presently— ninth century, isn’t it dear?—that is all coated inside with the most beau- tiful green slime, absolutely impossi- ble to reproduce.” “Is it?" I sald. “Yes. I took it to Squeeziou's, the Itallan place in London. (They are the great experts on horns, you know. They can tell exactly the century and the breed of cow.) And they told me that they had tried in vain to repro- duce that pecullar and beautiful rot. One of their head men said that he thought that this horn had probably been taken from a dead cow that had been buried for 50 years. That's what gives it its value, you know.” When London Loses. fou didn’t buy it in London, did you?" I asked. “‘Oh, 1o, answered Tespeler Jones. as hopeless as New York. buy anything real there at all.” “Then where do you get all your things?” T asked as I looked around at the collection of junk in the room. “Oh, we pick them up here and there,” said Mrs. Jones. ‘Just in any out-of-the-way corners. That little stool we found at the back of a cow stable in Loch Aberlocherty. They were actually using it for milking. And the two others—aren't they beau- tiful?—though really it's quite wrong to have two chairs alike in the same room—came from the back of a tiny little whisky shop in Galway. Such a delight of an old Irishman sold them to us, and he admitted that he himself had no idea how old they were. They might, he said, be fifteenth century or they might not.” “But, oh, Charles,” my hostess in- terrupted to say, “I've just had a let- ter from Jane (Jane is uny sister, you know) that is terribly exciting. She's found a table at a tiny place in Brit- tany that she thinks would exactly do in our card room. She says that it is utterly unlike anything else in the room and has quite obviously no con- nection with tards. But let me read what she says—let me see. Yes, here's where it begins: “‘ ‘A perfectly sweet little table. It probably had four legs originally, and even now has two, which, I am told, is a great find, as most people have to be content with one. The man ex- plained that it could either be leaned “London is perfectly impossible, just | You can't | Antiques from the ceiling on a silver chain. One of the boards of the top is gone, but I am told that that is of no conse- quence, as all the best specimens of oritiany tables have at least one t that sound fascinating, Charles” Do send Jane a cable at once not to miss it." (Copyright. 192 . Incense Industry. 'RANKINCENSE is a variety of gum that frequently forms a component of incense, but the term is not met with in commerce, to which incense means a gum that exudes from a tree flourishing in considerable quantities in British Somaliland and elsewhere. There is an inferior gum of this kind that grows in Indla and other countries of the FEast. The incense tree seldom attains a height exceeding 15 feet. It presents a thorny and unsightly growth and thrives in desert regions. Dealers grade incense according to color— bright vellow, medium and dark yel- low. The chief market for it seems to be Aden, whence it is taken by Somalis during the Winter months. | Huge drchid G-rden. A LUXURIANT orchid garden con- taining 7,000 plants and repre- serLting many species of the troplcal flower has been taken over by the Missouri Botanical Garden from C. W. Powell of Balboa. Mr. Powell has made a special study of the orchids of Panama and has more than doubled the number of species formerf®y known from that country, besides discovering more than a hundred specles previ- ously entirely unknown to science. The orchid garden will be maintalned in the Canal Zone as an experimental up against the wall or else suspended tropical garden. Wot for you stent like a mommy dere, stoopit? ? On de roof de dey prencing witt hoots shop like tsabres— It should geeve a complaint on de top flurr de nelghbors! ! Yoq know how is streect now de luzz from de pocking— By de way, could you find a Inweesi- ble stocking? So geeve plizze a ‘Harr,’ ‘Hess,’ ‘Wee,’ ‘Pee’—I bisitch!—" Und it made me de weesitor like dees a spitch: “Thomas Jafferson {Vaasheengton Restus MecGrime— ‘Wot he rons here de car in de beeld- ing—dot's I'M!" Like it files fest a docky away from a Kliggle! From de night befurr Chreesmas I got yat deleerous— ‘Wot it come hall night weesits from critchures mysteerous:— Nombar wan showed me spiters witt rutches galurr— Wot he outt dem itch wan hadding straight for mine durr. Nombar two was a putter—de toid was a goof ‘Wot he sonshine he swapt hall year huff from de roof. Dey came in pltoonz witt brigates witt battelions— Und I loined from'de tukk dey sob- seested on scellions. Den hall from a sodden aruzz sotch a “Honcle Tom takes you up opp. Honcle Tom takes you don— So dun't forgat Honcle whan Chrees- mas ron!” Away from de durrway Y flew Wke a higle—: l cletter— I jomped hout from bad I should see wot's de metter. Tnd it flew pest de weendow In bud- geous harray Gross Exaggerations—In the Dumb-Waiter Stock in a Pipe de Night Befurr Chreesmas A washtob, & hize-box, a heft from a sleigh— Two pots from a jenitor, wan cuffy- meel— Und two coils from pips wit was laft from de steel. Und hall troo de houze came a scrim- ming, “Yipe! YIPE!"— From Tsenta Cluss Feitlebaum stock in a pipe— Und motch murr woceeferous ruzz opp itch scrim— ‘Whan Looy dot dope gave a toln on de atiyuri— On December two-fife—witt just wan ivvining privious ‘Wot was gung on dere gungs on ex tremmingly grivvious. (Cosright. 1926, Eohivas s £ Nothing pleases a woman more than the little attentions her husband shows her when other women are around. .