Evening Star Newspaper, August 14, 1927, Page 76

6 THE SUNDAY STAR. WASHINGTON, WHEN I'M RICH ENOUGH By Richard W ashburn Child Colchester Was Going to Make Just So Much Money, and Then Do His Life’s Work. HIS is the sfory of a winner Most scribblers of fiction keep a gerap-book for memoranda of “colorful persons. Later these persons may be set into an artificial plot, as rare stones into designed settings. Some of them, however, write their own plots. Some become fat and suc- cessful and, perhaps, unhappy; some appear and require digging out of mud of obseurity that often cov many the real triumphs of he ers life. James him His itself shall years but for V. Colchester, was in my name is has written we hook 20 still there the plot as call Life him. He was graduated from a Western law school at the same time 1 graduated from one in the Fast. 1 was as green as he was when we first met in a legal contest involving Jumber and water-power rights that were being pulled and hauled ahout on one side by New York capitalists, on the other by certain timber-grab- bing speculators on the banks of the Mississippi. 1 wrote him down in my book. I had no fdea whete he would be found 1 supposed I would | use him in some yarn I would write | when 1 contrived the plot for it. | Of course. 1 had no thought that life would furnish the plot—after all, + common enough plot, if one be gins to count noses around down- | town New York and on up the East Side. A common enough plot. and vet one not often thrown clearly upen the sereen! ek K (COLCHESTER, when I met him, was marked out from .most of the voung men I knew by stalwart quali ties of mind and hody. To me he appeared exceptional; his stocky health; his brilliant mind that shook legal problems as a terrier shakes a rat, and yet could be whim sical and deal with deep convicions and deep emotions; his clear, shining. honest, fearless eyes, gazing out of a strong, homely countenance—all gave a powerful assurance that here was a man who, somehow, would rise and rise and rise. Perhaps he felt this within himself. There was nothing of the so-called go- tter in his attitude toward his ‘ca- veer. He was quite calm about the great adventure of life that seemed to stretch out before him. There was a comfort in heing with him, | hecause he looked upon the world with detachment, kindliness and | good humor. | No doubt, he had inherited some of this quality from his father, who a schoolmaster, and had drawn som: of it from the association with his father, He once showed me an old-fash-| foned erayon of the elder Col¢hester— a man who had emigrated to Minne- | sota from the Nutmeg State in the | 508. There was no distr behind | those eyes, and a great deal of peace | was written in the lines about his | lips. i | | was | | the same univer: [lap | Whatever concept Jim had of his goal. it was not something to talk about. Certainly he never talked about it directly to me. We hecame very good friends, but he did not ever sav to me Look here! My ambition is to win a great victory from life, and such and such are my plans.” He said only “Of course, for some years, 1 must stick to making money—espe- cially if I marry, as, of 1 shall—but there is something cheap and common in pressing on to the end. measurin income and neighbors in y with one's etense.” mpeting show and p I remember vividly how he looked far off, miles and miles away, throush the back of the fireplace, and smiled as it he knew exactly here he was going and was quite sure that he would one day reach his destination 1 shall eall Carrie Graham, and once | she told me something that threw a |little more light on his plans. Any {one could tell in a minute that she | had for Jim the adoration an ine pressive being cannot put into word and therefore ever tries to phrase. <he was neither pretty, nor had she an attractive figure. She was the daughter of a widow who had been left without means and who sold insurance. Carrie helped in and. T believe, the routine tived her. There was a tired look in her eves, but in Jim's presence the tired look vanished, and I have seen her gaz at him with lights in her eyes like those in the eves of prisoners who are released when orchards are in flower and a horizon whispers of new worlds. Coichester and Carrie had been to school together. They had gone to ty. I felt that they had been married always in a kind of assumed and eternal friendship and partnership to which a ceremony and ardent love would add nothing much | except children and a_home. Of course, the time had come when they might or might not have put their plans into words. But each was of the kind who rely little on words applied to expressions of deep feel ings—he because of restraint; she be- cause of unwillingness to trust words with her most important messages. But any one could see her love for him, and his for her, in their eves, in the understanding in their interchange of smiles. the little office. EEE N one occasion, when I was alone with her and had said something complimentary of him, she gave me a bit of light as to his purposes. She said, folding her hands in her and ' pressing them tightly ogether: “Only a few evenings ago we went together to the big warehouse fire The red glow lit up all the faces ot the crowd—and he told me to look into those faces—hundreds and hun- dreds of faces, watching the fire hosc spreading its veil of water. And he asked me if I thought those faces were happy. And I said: 'No.’ BASE BALL (Continued from First Page) | mome time was a leading figure in the Cincinnati team. That Fall both the Nationals and the Olympics were outfitted with new uniforms. The latter appeared at the next game with white flannel shirts and pants, blue cords down the pants legs and buckles just below the knees, light blue stockings, white skull caps trim- med with blue cords and blue belts. ‘The old English letter O was embroid- ered on the breast of each shirt. The Nationals also_ were given white flan- nel shorts and pants, but the stock- ings were plaid and the caps and belts green, The shirt breasts were em- | broidered with the old English letter N in green thread. Some of the other diamond uni- | forms, as described by Washington | sports writers of the period, were: White Stockings of Chicago: White shirts with the letter C embroidered on the breasts in white silk, white stockings, blue pants and blue caps Mutuals of New York: White shirts and pants, blue belts and green leg- gings. * * x % 1 'HE Olympics, after a successful | home season in July, 1871, went | on a Western tour. Evidently they had replaced the Nationals in popular favor for fhe time being. The trip, however, resulted disastrously. They | lost two games to the White Stockings and one to the Forest City team of | Cleveland, an aggrégation they had beaten casily when it visited Wash- ington. | “We can only account for this lack | of success,” says the Washington aports writer of the period, “by giving credence to uzly rumors which pre- vail in base ball circles to the effect that our boys were demoralizbd from the day they left. What is needed is a cool, clear-headed captain who will | make them abstain, while on tour, | from drinking. | That same the end of the | car, however, marked | mi-professional status | of the two Washington teams. Late in the Summer the National Profes- PIONEERS mounted rapidly above the hundred | mark. * X kK HE Capital's amateur teams de- veloped somewhat later than the semi-professionals, but they had large seventies. Perhaps the earliest and most notable of these were Creightons who played at Tenth G streets near the site of the Congregatiogal ~ Church on what then was the “Asylum hill” lot. They represented the down-town section. Their chief rivals were the Capitol Hills, described as a rather aristocratic team; the Junior Nationals, composed of players who had been developed under the tutelage of the mi-pro club, but who could not quite mak: the professional grade; the Pythians of South Washington; the Astorias, rej represented the downtown section. and the Hibernians, who represented both the northeast section and the Irish population of the city. Rivalry was bitter, particularly between the Creightons and the Hibernians. Most of the Creighton players were Irish but there was a sprinkling of other races, When the two teams met the game usually ended in a free-for-all. Several of the Hibernian players were milkmen. They used to deliver from door to door from eight-quart cans, pouring the required amount into the container left on the doorsteps. The players found these empty cans were excellent weapons and wielded them lustily on the skulls of the Ci One Summer the Creightons had beaten the Hibernians twice on the down-town grounds, but had been bhat- games. The time came for the return engagement—an invasion of the solid- Iy Irish section which the Hibernians represented. The latter team smacked its collective lips at the prospect of the slaughter which would follow. But the Creightons forestalled them, one of the players informs me, by ap- pearing on the field in new .uniforms— shirts, pants, caps and stockings solid green. This expedient took the fancy | from the first were obviously favor- ites. The fans were solidl them, both with cheers and fists. The sional Association was organized, com- prising_Philadelphia, Boston, Chicagc New York, the Olympics, the Hay makers of Troy and the Forest Cities of Cleveland. The next Summer the Nationals were admitted to this eircle and the Capital was represented b two professional teams until 187 when the present National Leazuc was organized. Then the best cle ments of both teams were forged in a nine known as the “Nationa The development of professional base ball in Washinston is another story. The game as played in the sixties, as the scores indicate, was different in several essential details from the national sport of today. The regulation ball weighed 61, ounces and was 107, inches in circunference It was composed of 2! ounces of hard rubber, wound with varn and covered with leather. When such a ball was hit squarely it was likely to mean a home run. The pitcher de- pended entirely on the speed of his underhand throw. He stood hehind a line 12 feet long 45 feet in front of home p He eould throw from any point hehind the line. take as ps as he wanted to and 1 number of preliminary motions. His ohject was “to pitch as ne pos. mible to home plate.” Sometimes he would stand at the extreme left of the 1200t line and someétimes at the ex- treme right. The bearded Col. Jones they say, sometimes would take 10 or 12 steps before releasing tnc ball The batters, it is obvious, were in a much better position than is the case tod Rut so were the flelders, A ball caught on the first bound was equivalent to a caught fly. There also were two chances to catch a foul, when it came down and when it bounded. “I have seen,” says one zentleman who remembers some of the eariy games, “an infielder run in 20 feet 1o catch a ball on the first Lound and put out the batter.” There was no “position base bhall.” Both the outfielders and infielders arranged themselves about as they pleased. U'nder these cirenumstances the hest of defensive teams was helpless hefore »n aggregation of powerful batters. They could only stand sheapishly and wateh halls soaring over their heads. wiile the score of thelr opponents st any many | | outwitted Hibernians, however, turned the tables by winning the game. It remained for the Astorias to in- troduce the first curve ball pitcher to Washington, one amp"” Delaney, | who was picked up in a downtown saloon and put into a base ball uni- form. Delaney was the sensation of a season. His offerings were abso- lutely unhittable and the Astorias | were progressing easily toward the city championship when the Junior Nationals turned the tables hy import- ing from Brooklyn another curve pitcher who was as superior to De- laney as the latter was to the former straight ball tossers. The Creightons developed at least | four big league stars: Charlie Snyder, | afterward with Boston for 10 years: il rhardt, second baseman of the Giants for 12 years; Paul Hines, after- | ward with Providence, who is credited with having made the first unassisted | triple play in the history of base ball, {and “Sadie” Houck, afterward short | stop with New York. Boston and Phil- adelphia In el probably whiskered bhase ball from the pages of the Washington Sunday Capital of August 2, 1874: Thursday evening a match game of hase ball cime off between the Creigh- ton and the Comique nines. Owing to the ahsence of bheer, the Comiques were defeated by a score of 95 to They owed their defeat to the supe rior playing of their opponents, Jen- kins of ‘the Comiques and Valence of | the Creightons played noticeably well, | but in the sixth inning the young salt, | Jenkins, feeling diffident of his catch- ing ability, procured a hottle of muci- lage and anointed his hands. Three were on es and Jones came to bat. Jenkins had changed {from first base to left field. Jones | struck with all his strength and the | ball sailed gracefully toward Jenkins. | He caught it, and the three Creigh- | tons started for home. He essayed to throw the ball to third base, but to his chagrin found his hands clasped 1o it by the action of the mucilage be- vond all escape. It was only when a hucket of boiling water had heen pro- cured that the game could go on.” | we may original what ix ree of a v, gleaned give st the 1 i one’s success by one's | introduced me to her whom we | | umph, she did. and enthusiastic followings during the | tered up badly at the end of both | of the northeast fans, and the visitors | behind | |tended for white patronage only. | “So he said to me: ‘When T have | made money enough, 1 am going to |find out_why people are no longer happy. They ought to be happy—it's right for them to be happy. I'm going to find out_why they aren't happy | And, when I get a chance, I'm going to spend my life in finding ont what's the matter and then doing something about it. All I know is that it isn’c poverty and it isn’t sin. They aren't happy, and it has something to_do with losing the art of living. and it has something to do with trying te rely upon themselves without any con- nection with others, and belief ana devotion. They look dike lost souls on the edge of some kind of self-madc torment. And 1 want to help—some day. They deserve it. 1d like to 1ke Toose from clients and fees and set those faces and other faces free.’ “You understand what he meant?s asked Car “For,” certainly and. and almost exactly.” T “And he can do a lot, if he 0. | | under replied, wants.” Her eyes shone. But I could see how she could help him—a kind of harbor into which the boat comes back at_dusk. of characters. ¥ During the many weeks spent With representatives of great law fll'mf‘ from the East and the two pre-emi- nent firms of the Mississippi River city, 1 learned the extraordinary power in Colchester to simplify and to eliminate unessentials. he tangle of local and constitutional law, which was one of the worst tangles and <narls T have ever seen, was unwound by him. There was no dramatic bril- Jiance in the performance; thera was no hectic running hither and thither for a solution; he merely walked straight into the dark, carrying the steady light of clear thinking. As one of the lawyers from the East, who had already a national reputation, said: an obstacle, he does not do what nine- tenths of these others do. They waste days trying to convince themselves or others that the obstacle does not exist, whereas young Colchester im- mediately starts to find a new path around ft.’ 1 had no doubt that Jim wouid come Fast. T had no doubt that less than five years would see him seeking a larger field and finding it. 1 remember vaguely of picturing him and Carrie Graham. and perhaps a baby, in a Pullman drawing room. rolling eastward; I even remember of thinking that Carrie would be looking out at the sliding landscape, with all the new lights of romance in her eyes, adding new experience, new hopes and expectations to some deep and perma- nent store of romance that was their joint treasure. When I left for the Fast, it was nearly midnight. Jim Colchester and | | Carrie had been at the theater with me and had Insisted on going with | me when I picked up my luggage at | the hotel and went to the station. “By the way," he said, as if ashamed to tell me, “Gaines and Web- ster want me to go with their firm. I thought you might be interested. Which is your ‘car?” Carrie shot a look at me. Even if he did not want recognition of a tri- And 1 tried, without to show her by my expression that I knew how proud she must be. 1 was on the car steps as the train moved, and 1 waved good-by. They were standing there, several feet apart, no doubt, but it has always seemed to me that they were standing arm in arm. * kK X X MERICA has a vortex of its own Kkind. It is the successful men who are drawn frdm the village to the small eity, and from the small city to the large, and from the large city to a_ metropolis. Other metropolises of the world are also the centers of magnetic attrac- tion, but to a much greater extent that attraction is for the mere ad- venturer or the utter failure, Colchester himself in those old days once said: T wrote his name down in my book | “When that young man arrives at | “The most vivid human picture of America is seen in that lusty eager- ness of youth to fight its way out. It | fights its way out of an environment it considers dull, and gains spiritual and mental muscle in the struggle. It goes straining onward to bigger and bigger places. Finally it lands in the center of the whole web. “Take New York. I've never been there, but T imagine that it does little | to reproduce itself. It relies for its top on men and women from provin- cial America. It relies for its hottom upon mere excess numbers of human beings who immigrate. And in the middle is the runout stock—the sec- ond or third generation from the for- mer top, who are tired of it all, and the second or third generation who have come into prosperity from the bottom and hold their gold inheritance in_their weary hands.” When Colchester spoke of New Yor a gleam came into his eye, but it wa Chicago that first drew him into a | great center. I am not much of a letter-writter, and several years had gone before 1 knew that he had been asked to be assistant counsel for one of the Midwestern railroads. Some mutual friend spoke of it, and then we lost each other in a subway crush. But though I did not hear directly from him. T often thought of Carrie Graham'’s mention of the faces of num- herless human beings in the light of | the warehouse fire. | | | * ok ok ok INALLY, at a hankers’ convention at Atlantic City, I met Jim Col- chester. We almost knocked other down. T excia‘med | luck of this meetin. | “Come on here and =it down,” he said. “I hear you have quit the | No wonder. You've heen adverturing around the world. Well, well!” There was something in his voice | that spoke of a formula of good wwill | and great good nature. It was almost | like that quality of speech called by another attorney “giving clients the cheerio,” I “Where are you now?’ I asked.| “Chicago?" Oh, no” he replied; New Vork several firm is Dane, w I should have known.” T said. Not at all, not at all.” he replied briskly. “T really came unexpectedly I wanted to get in where the plums are, because—-'" His face suddenly changed, became alive again, and reminded me of its old_enthusiasms. “Because,” he said, “I want to stay just long enough in this game to work myself out of it. I had enough ex- perience in my own family—my father | went without a Winter overcoat to| give dresses to my sisters—so that 1| want to be protected. I have work | to do in this world, it T can get el-| hows free—things I really want to try | to do. you kno 1 did not exactly know, but T sup- | posed he referred to the ideas he had poured -out to Carrie Graham. ‘And you've got to protect your family. We have two youngsters now. Come up and see 'em. Here, give me that pencil. That's where we are liv- ing. It costs like the deuce, but 1 can’t very well go down and live in old Chelsea, or anything like that. It doesn’t look well. ~Telephone us when you are in town. Come up to dinner. We'll talk it over.” Then I made a_terrible gaff. T said “I will be so glad to see Carrie again, t00." A strange expression, almost fear. came into his eves. “Why T didn’t marry Carrie,” he sald, as if surprised. “Indeed, T b lieve she is still unmarried. You did not_assume that we were engaged?” Not formally. vas thinking of Carrie G.aham. | who was not quite at an equal level | of brilliance, who might have been | suspected of being a little plain—good | enough for that town—but not quite | in focus for the grealer salons. | “I married Jeanne D'Orsay,” he | said. “She was a Chicago girl. You | may know Allen D'Orsay, the man | who is always trailing off on_ explor- ling expeditions. He's her brother. ' each ahout the | “I came to| ; months ago. The Colchester, ns & | | | like | down | looking | with | idealist, but a practical idealist. D. €, AUGUST 14, “JIM WOULD COME HOME I THE EVENING AND WOULD TURN OUT ALL THE RED GLOW ON HIS FA hoth We'd and—— Just then there appeared a gray haired man—a curious fizure in these vs. He had a square face top derby and square-toed shoes, “Ry the way, Colche a deep bass voice used to authority. Jim lifted himself by the arms of be glad to see you, ry, old man.” he said to me, in | a low tone. you? That's Nationa “You'll excuse me, won't Bacon of the Bleventh See you later.” 1 said, and watched Col still a stalwart figure, still his eyes bright, go skipping the hotel lobhy after the big man and then walk along heside him, up into the big man's face a furtive joviality on his own face, talking a great deal, and then stening with great respect for the big man’s gruff, monosyllabic answers. * K K K chester, with MONTH later I met Berenson, who does his law business be- tween Chicago and New York and has a way of knowing the nside story about every one whose head sticks up above the surface mediocrity I asked him whether he knew Col- chester. “Just casually,” he said, for he never denies acquaintance with any one. “But he has at I and his thumb in the pie already. He never misses a bet. A good deal of You know, he married one of the D'Orsays They ‘are not rich. Just rich enough for her to start him off in New York with a_big apartment on Park ave. nue. But the main thing is that old Dane, who has a grip on a lot of the promotion bankers and some of their big promotion subsidiaries, is D'Orsay’s uncle. lence the mar nd hence the firm. This, 1 discovered later, was only true in the mists at the edge of truth. As a matter of fact, Colches ter met his wife because Dane had heard rumoi of Jim's ability and had sought his association in the Ma- chinery Metals case. It was during that reors that Jim had met M N no one ean say that he married her without love. Certainly, after he mar- vied her he was proud of her. e anization a square- | ter,” he said, in | t one finger | Jeanne | She could entertain most delight- |tully. She was rather a distinguished blonde, with remarkably clear and sympathetic and rather sad eyes, as I rememher them. When T first attended their dinner parties, she was quite a gay person, 1 thought. She liughed a good deal and qulte spontaneousiy. She often looked at her hushand with admiration, but hardly- with that adoration Carrie Gra- had had shown. For some reason, Jim seldom looked at her; not oftener, I believe, than he | would Took at a valuable portrait over the mantel in their own drawing room. AS to the prophecies of his success, | most of them turned out to be under- statements; he was having an unusual career. “For a long time,” said Berenson, ‘he took his cases—bigger and bigger ones-—as if he were quite an ordinary | lawyer. He depended upon results rather than atmosphere. Yes, he de- pended upon results and that curious insinuating way of his with clients— with big clients. His coming into partnership with Dane soon doubled the number of second-string men and | clerks and stenographers in that of- fice. It's only now that he is chang- ing. Changing how?" T inquired. “Well, he has put on some of the atmosphere now. Have you seen his office” It's not a baronial hall, but something like one, with his desk over in the corner overlooking the harbor. And, although he has delegated more of his work to his staff, he smilingly reminds every one that he is too bus: —too busy to stop for a chat; unfor- tunately too busy to serve on citizen committees and boards of charitable institutions. He is within striking dis- | tance of the top now. Do you still go to his dinner parties?" “I do,” I said. “And why do you ask?” I believe T knew why he asked, but, having a prejudice against criticism of hosts, I said nothing. “I was impressed by his guests,” said Berenson. “They are still made | by their wives, who are high-paying clien or prospective high-paying clients, Furthermore, he has built I himself a Summer place at that bank- up largely of rich men, accompanied | THE LIGHTS AND SIT IN FRONT OF THE OPEN FIRE, WITH lers’ colony up the Hudson. You see, that indicates that he still believes them indispensable to him and is not quite sure yet that he is indispensable to them. That is a sign, perhaps, that he hasn’t quite reached the top— though very near it.” His income must have been growing by leaps and bounds. KFor a time this went to his head, There is always a period when such men insist on pa ing for everything when seeking en- tertainn.ent, and they give freely to | charities, wherever the giver and re- | ceiver both can reap a benefit. There- after, a period comes—perhaps of some cynicism as to the ingratitude, or the designs, of friends and solici tors—when rich. men row tight and suspicious. Their fists harden a little along with their eyes. T wi much as fifteen or twenty thousand a | stock market—following reorganiza- tions in which he acted as counsel. little, as a man still young should not do, and therefore he engaged a trainer who exercised him and rubbed him and sweated him. When He was 46 he had managed, by such artifices, to keep himself in fairly good condition. One night T met him at his club. 1 wondered why he was not at home ind why, in pauses of our conversa tion, he nervously picked up magazine after magazine from a nearby table, as it he were looking for some me: sage he could not find. “Well,” said he, at last, “I must be going along now. I want to see the chillren before they go to bed.” He lighted another cigar. “You're not tired””" I asked, “Thunder! No! I'm never tired,” he said boastfully. “I have a doctor go over me three or four times a year. 1 | have a good report every time. 1It's a good thing to do.” He looked at me with a smile; it ap- peared to me exactly like some kind of mask. “Good-night.” “So long. I'm off to Bermuda with the whole family tomorrow. I've worked pretty hard for years, and I'm entitled to indulge myself now and then.” He clacked off over the marble tiles (Continued from Third Page.) The Oriental is loath to reveal the sig- nificance of the smaller altar. Encircled by elaborate Chinese paper reightons, | 1anterns, a chandelier, purchased from | {a Washington department store, re- flects the light in its tapering prisms Opposite a wall where hang Chinese cornets, queer shaped banjos, im- mense cymbals and violins looking like mallets, with strings attached, stands the symbol of American business—a walnut desk. Above the desk hang the framed rules and names of mem. bers of the organization, * oK kK HEIR organizations, with their rules and yearly change of mem- bership, are conducted very much like American societies. The reminders of meetings are not mere postal cards, hut small wooden paddles bearing all the necessary information in Chinese. It was learned that the miniature {altar is for the worship of the depart- led. It is the hope of every oriental that his final resting place shall not be the unfriendly soil of “foreign devils,” but that of their native land. | there to be reverently looked upon and worshiped as the relics of a departed | ancestor, | Every 10 years a Chinege boat touches the large American ports to |collect the hodies of the departed. | Every body that has been buried for |10 years is disinterred. The bones, re {moved from the graves and placed on |a small charcoal stove for the removal {of any flesh that may remain, are | finally placed in hermetically sealed | boxes about a foot long and, with the identity of the remains carefully pre- |served, are sent back to China, the | final resting place. No ceremony at- | tends the collection of the bones.” The work is all done by Chinese agents, he Chinese do hold ceremonies in the cemetery about twice a year, For- merly they placed food—chicken, {bread and on_the graves: now |they gather around the graves and feast themselves, while their clergy deliver rites over the dead. More than 5 per cent of the Chinesc restaurant owners. A vestaurant, A rule, is not owned entirely by one | man. The corps of workers Is involved in_the ownership. The Chinese restaurants now are in- In these places many of the delicacies that Chinese enjoy are not to be had— land for good causes. For instance, |goose eggs, that have been stored |away in clay for several years until | they have reached a high state of de- | cay, are not likely to be in great de- | mar An educated oriental, when disgust was expressed at the idea of eating |such a dish, reminded his friend t | Americans are known to be fond of | cheeses when age and certain forms | of life lend the proper flavor. * k¥ % OHN'S home life, though, is free from the curiosity of strangs for here strangers are not permitted to pass. Many of those lahoring in this country “have families or be trothed ones In the land ol’Ah?lr birth, | | | ce I WHERE THE ORIENT 1S REPRESENTED IN W Chinatown Has Own Spirit of Excl HINGT | Still a few of the better classes have | their s here—real, dainty, toddling creatures of Cathay. Wives and wom- an relatives in general are in Chinese called “the hidden ones.” And such, in fact, they a ‘Washington's Chinatown contains not more than 15 little slant-eyed wom en of the Middle Kingdom. Man of the women, when they first came to the land of giant trees and big feet, attended the Chinese Sunday school at the Metropolitan Memorial Church, where, with the aid of a Chinese inter- preter, they learncd to speak the Engz. lish language, to read and write, anl to pray. Many of the women with their bounden feet and rich, colorful robes of China presented a problem when the Sund chools held clas: in the woods during the hot Summer 'months. Anxious to join in the fun of tramping through narrow country roads and stepping over tree limbs and climbing rocks, the women concealed, as best_they could, the pain of their stumped feet as they toddled slowly over obstacles The Chinese women are considered | the most loyal and the most protected. They are nearly all wives of better- | class merchants, In their homes, their surroundings are as truly Chinese a the means of the head of the house will permit.. The walls are covered with bright colored hangirgs, huge in- scriptions, reaching from ceiling to floor, and curious productions fr the pens and brushes of native cel m. and many-tasseled lanterns hang down. Quantity in a small space is the Chl nese idea of the beautiful. His apart- ments are always small, and are al- ways overcrowded with articles of art. The furniture is black and richly carved. If it is not stained teakwood, it is ebo During one of the Chinese New rs the Metropolitan Church gave Orientals a_banquet in which tur- was plentiful, with other goodies. The Orientals would not touch the tur- key because they had not first seen the fowls alive and healthy, and he- cause the meat had not heen prepared nd cooked they thought proper. The serving of the meat was a prob- tem, too. Chinese never cut their meat while at the table Their chopsti are their only means of conveying their food to their mouths. The food is always cut into small pieces before it is cooked. The first few years that the Chinese attended the schools their woman folk ittended a though they did not zather in the same room, for women must not mingle with men. Later the women were Kept at home, except on Christ when they came to hear their children sing American songs. "he men seemed to think that their wives were learning too much, and were probably reminded that woman, 1 if she must know, should learn from her husband. Those Orientals whose wives ara in ritles. The very ceilings are decoratedy .’llnl or who are hgchelors usually rd | |live in back of the stores on the Ave- {nue or in the tiny rooms in the house. Just to the rear of each store are bed- rooms the size of a pantry. With a Chinese picture to adorn the wall the Oriental mtent to sleep upon a tiny cot and to keep his clothing in small chest of dr: ] 1 ‘Celestials sleep upon made of hoards, the Kkind used for building. These hoards are covered with straw matting as thin as paper. For pil- lows severai cigar boxes are used which are softer than their rat tuifed pillows, made to serve the old purpose of preserving the most or- derly arranged queue, * K ok & A THICK wall separates the sleep- ing quarters from the store. Ev- ery Chinese abode boasts a large back voom, furnished with a few pieces of crude, heavy furniture. Many Chi- nese pictures and Chinese calendars help to hide walls badly in need of painting. Here the impassive, expres- ionless mask of the Oriental is dis- red with a smile as broad and hu- s that of the most good-natured, v-zo-lueky Anderican, The O-ientals are dressed in immae- ulately clean clothing, most of thel wearing white shirts open at the neck A few wear the native black satin blouses, reaching below the waist. All smoke pipes while they indulge in mes of chance and invest their earn- ings in lottery tickets. The Oriental lis an inveterate gambler. Almost all | an- | usiveness smoke as they play, screwing their | faces as they suck at their long-stem- med pipes, which look very much like | the leg of a chair, Some blow smoke | | with long amber mouthpieces. The favorite pipe and the most dif- with its intricate contraption of water compartment, tobacco _compartment and a-tiny hole for the lighter, with a paper tape attached for - lightins. chamber in the pipe. The bowl small pea and must be lit after every puff, which keeps the smoker continu- ously putting in a little bit of tobacco, lighting his pipe. tired. Despite its many chains and intricacies, it has a hand-painted china base. A few smoke crooked rosewood tohacco bag attached. {little else entertains them in America. | Every large back room is provided | with "a table, always a round table, which isg best adapted for playing pur- poses, and is surrounded by hard wooden stools. In one of their games dominoes are used, but not in the same way | the American game. A pair of Chi- | nese ivory dice, yellow with age, initi- ates each player into the zame, service and_played very much like | our games of cards. Tn another game | little ivory sticks with Chinese char- acters upon each side are used. The tongs are far reaching and | powerful to the extent of controlling I'the Chinatown of almost every city As a_means of protection, most Chi- nese helong to either one faction or the other. The factions have s told that Colchester made as | month and a good deal more in the | He took on overweight and puffed a | from queer, twisted pipes of bamhoo, | | ficult to manipulate is the water pipe, | Even the cleaner is carried in a tiny | of | the water pipe is about the size of a | puffing it, then re-| peating the operation until he hecomes | pipes, with a metal bowl holding about | i @ thimbleful of tobacco, and a small | | Many Chinese admit gambling for | the pleasure and the excitement, since | | | | as in | after | which the dominees are brought into | | | of the almost vacant club lobby, and, as I gazed after him, it appeared tp m« | that youth had zone, that somehow | this receding man was a caricature of the Jim Colchester I had known so many years s He had got into t big pond, and he had become one of iggest frogs in the big pond thought of the hundreds of thou th James V. r magazine vouth how cung of the Colehest article wriften he had attain ladder. £ 200 1 | to show | the top A T was while 1 was abread that he died. T saw something of it in & New York paper I picked up in a club |in Paris. I believe the Attorney Gen | eral was one of the pallbearers. Pneu- monia had got him. 1 was abroad for a year, and T read the American papers more carefully {than one does at home: sometimes | there is a passion to keep abreast of {the times. One even reads what is going on in society. I never saw his | name anywhere. I woke up to that { fact long after he had died—and some- {how, when 1 was back in New York, {no one mentioned Jim Colchester, | The water had closed noiselessly, over him. Of course, T thought of Jeanne Col- jchester. It was my duty to see her. [ | found myself in the drawing roam, | wh » often seen the cack- | tails pa the butler. For some | unknown reason 1 began to look about | the room for a picture of Jim. There was none. 1 heard the rustle of Jeanne's dress. She came in and held out Wer hand. “So nice of you to come. So nice to see you again.” she said, and w down and talked of many things. |new calm and peace had come into her face, I wanted to avoid speaking of Jim's death, but one must say something. And, as I spoke, T realized that I was not speaking with the sincerity I would have felt in the old days—the days of Carrie Graham and the Mis sissippi and youth. “There is one thing comfort,” said Jeanne, in this life Jim was ie was happy w children,” I asserted. “Oh, yes,” she said, and nodded. “But he was not happy with himself. “And_yet he had reached the top=——= She nodded and repeated it, * course, in that sens 1 picked up my hat and gloves, And then, as if an afterthought had come to her, she said: “You know, Jim would come homs in the evening and would turn out all the lights and sit in front of the open fire, with the red glow on his face. And Ris face was so unhappy that, if I had know how, I would have given my life to wipe that unhappine: away.” that gives me ‘I do not think happy.” h you afl his ‘Oh, of (Covyright, 1927.) The Elusive Fly. JEVERYBODY knows how difficult it < is to cateh or at” a house-flv, Naturalists have studied these amaz ing insects of late and have discovered the reason for their astonishing agility. A fly can flap its wings 800 times in a single second, if we are to chedit the conclusions of these experts. It can, therefore, fly at the rate of 25 feet o second without half trying. When it lly in a_hurry it can proceed at te of 160 feet a second or about mile in 33 seconds, which 1y miles an- hour. Little wonder that we n't_surprise the fly A fly is much more intellizent than a bee, in the opinion of the invest: <ators mentioned. although it is not cenerally given due credit for this intelligence. It is caleulated that a fly cannot “think” 100 times faste: than a human being. Its ability to take care of itself is largely due to its eyes. Each of its great compound eyes contain thousands of little eyes ach provided with separate lenses to magnify objects close at hand. On top of the fiy’s head are set three larger eves for long-distance observa tion. An ordinary female flv lavs about 500 eggs, which will produce full-grown flies in aheut 10 days. Carrying Loose Bills. WITH many men it is a common habit to carry a few odd bil branches of the organization in al- most every city where a handful of | Orientals are found. A few Celestials | have been known to belong to both of | the factions, but it is their law that n On Leonz must not belong to the | Hip Sing Tong, and an outeast of Hip re mot join the other faction. One of the most noticeable charac- | teristies of the Oriental isethat he is | zood to his wife—that providing | she has fulfilled her only recognized duty on earth, which is being the mother of a man child. Many of the Chinese have mated with Americans, ind many of their offspring have re- turned to China for a glimpse of the land of half their ancestors, only to return again to America. The homogeneous character of the Chinese precludes any probability of theij imilation, and an Oriental will likely always be an Oriental wher- ever he is. There is hardly a man in ' Washington's Chinatown, even those horn here, but hopes some day to live in his_beloved country. Many Chi- nese have made small fortunes in Washington and gone back to China to spend their remaining days, and the good American money they have earned here. But most of them re- turn_to their adopted country after an absence of a few months. in convenient pockets to save them- slves the trouble of pulling eut their wallets to pay for small articles pur- chased. squently these bills are folded in indifferent fashion and stuffed into pockets where other bills, folded with equal careles mey be reposing. Bankers point oyt et this is apt to b a costly habit, +s a bill may be dropped when somé of them are withdrawn from th& et. They point out that there is one proper way to handle bills thus carried: that is, by smoothing out the bills, placing them together, preferably with the smaller lenominations on top and larger below, although that is en tirely a matter of preference. Then one end of the little pile of bills is turned inward to the depth of about “n inch or so and folded down, after which the bills are creased length- wise down the cenier and folded over. Finally the narrow strip of bills is folded from end to end in the most convenient little wad. In this way the bills are all locked together and there is no danger of ness, any being separated and lost, while the owner can readily unfold themn and extract what he wants at any time, refolding the balance securely and returning them to his pocket.