The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, October 14, 1900, Page 6

6 . . { P e @Was a Man of Letlers, “Down at one of the river resorts near the bay,” said the man with the sun- peecled nose, ‘1 met a neighbor of mine on the hotel veranda. He was in conversa- tion with clderly, dignified looking man, whose face was somewhat familiar to me, although vaguely. ‘“ ‘Shake hands with Mr. So-and-So, a Washington man of letters,” said my friend to me, nodding toward his compan- ion, and I shook with the man, whose countenance was somehow familiar to me. »* ‘Man of letters, eh? I thought, as I " Yooked him over. *Well, here’'s where 1've got to get on my mettle, I suppose. and talk about Carthaginian history and Ko- rean ceramics, and the passing of the feudal period, and stunts like that, just to show this man of letters what a dickens of a bright cuss I am myself when I get my sleeves rolled up. It's about ten to one that he'll collar me apd make me look 1 ke a Patagonian plaster if I make the lit- tiest kind of a break.’ “So 1 began to put 'em over for the ben- efit of this man of letters. He smiled in- dulgently at me as I went along, but he didn’'t heave in many remarks himseif to speak of, except ‘I guess that's so,’ or ‘Yes, you're right there, I think,’' or ‘It's a matter that I haven’t investigated as carefuily as I should.” It looked pretty easy then, and I went right along and let him have all I knew, without any further fear of a call-down. My neighbor seemed to be greatly entertained over the wealth of information 1 was unfolding, and I was meditating upon what a sin and a shame it was that I hadn’t been picked out as the head of a rollege several years ago. “I was baeck in Washington two days later. I didn’t go to the office on the morning after 1 got back, but sat dawd- ling at my breakfast. As I sat at the table in our basement dining-room there was a ring at our basement bell, and I went to the door. There stood my man of letters in a gray uniform. He wore a broad grin as he handed me my morning mail, and then I remembered how it was that this man of letters’ face was so familiar to me. “Come on, the bunch of you,” concluded the man with the sun-peeled nose, “I'm doing the buying.””—Washington Post, —_——— e - THE MAIDENS AND THE SAW. They had a lawn festival for the benefit of a New Jersey church the other day, and a lot of pretty girls sawed wood for 2 prize. It was hard wood, and they had to saw each length into three pieces with an ordinary bucksaw. A bucksaw is not a saw warranted not to buck, and the fair amateurs must have made sliver pincushions of their dimpled knees long before the task was ended. Any man who has tried to work a saw of this character through a green lot of four-foot hickory can sympathize with these girls. Any man who recalls the struggle of his youth in this direction and how often he ran to his mother for a lump of tallow to grease the confounded saw, which, despite his best efforts, would stick and bind and eramp and suddenly let go, will not only sympathize with these maidens but with the noble army of tramps who would rather starve than saw wood. In a contest of this character a pint of sawdust would be worth a king’s ransom, end the amount of wood sawed would cut but a trifling figure among the incidentals of a2 hard winter. But there is one thing the girls must have been profundly thankful for—it was not a case of “saw-wood-say-nothing!’— Cleveland Plain Dealer. an The fact that money does not make the man seldom worries the man who is try- ing to make the money. LR R O A amanC S SECER S-S =) Clymer Haight—A woman seldom linows what she wants. Constance Wynnes—But she usually gets it. THE SUNDAY CALL. THE TRUTH IN A NUTSHELL. Miss Gusher (at a reception)—Ch, Mr, Ayres! How did you ever come to write that lovely song? Steele Ayres (shortly)—I needed the money. L R R R R O o o ] l NATURALLY SOMEWHAT CURIOUS. ‘““What are you doing?"’ asked her dear- est friend. “Studying the dictionary,” answered the girl from the West. ‘““You see, Emerson Waldo of Boston called last evening,” she went on, “and I'm just looking up some of the words he used to find out whether he proposed marriage or merely invited me to go to the opera. I couldn’t make it out at the time, but I said ‘yes’ on general principles, and I'm just nat- urally curious to know whether or not I'm engaged to be married.”"—Chicago Post. SHE HAD NO CHANCE. Miss Gilgal (reading)—A girl in Penn- sylvania has saved an express train from destruction by taking off her red petticoat and waving it as a signal. Miss Tenspot—O, dear, I could never do anything like that. “Why not?” “Because I don’t wear red petticoats.” Detroit Free Press. A light heart is a blessing, except, per- haps, when it results from a light head. L e e L e e e e e e e o ] ‘“Hey, de1», Mugsy! Here’'s a bloke wot's paintin’ two picks-tures at onct!™ Jhe Guinea Pig’s Jail. The I12-year-old son of a Van Buren street fond parent recently became the proud possessor of some guinea pigs. A day or two after the same were safely corraled in a cage he went about brag- ging of his acouisition among his play- mates. Now, it seems, these youngsters knew of a ‘“sell” in which guinea pigs play a prominent part. They started to “hook™ the youngster and caught him fast and hard. He felt so badly about it that he start- ed in turn to “sell” some one else. His father was the victim. “Did you krow, papa, that if you hold a guinea pig by the tail its eyes will drop out?” His father laughed outright. “Why, who in wonder told you such stuff, Louis?”’ “The boys all say that,” answered Louis, sober as a judge, “and it's so, yes, sir.” : “Oh, nonsense,” said his father, still laughing. ‘“Well, you go to the cage and hold one up and you'll see.” Just to humor the boy, the father went out. In a moment he came back looking —well, looking just like a man that's been badly sold. ““The little rascal got me that time,” he remarked to a friend. “But I don’t see the point,” said the friend. “Don’t you?” “No." “Well, guinea pigs have no tails.”—To- peka Capital —_—————— HIS ENTHUSIASM. “T'll be gol-popped if the editor of the Plaindealer ain’t an emnthusiastic cuss!” ejaculated Farmer MedGdergrass, upon his return from an afternoomn’s stay in town. “What makes ye think so, Lyman?”"’ asked his good wife. “Why, I heard in the village to-day that he was the recipient last week of an anonymous letter of a most insultin’ kind, which caused him to start in to lick the whole vummed town that the writer of the note might not go unpunished. And they told me that he hadn’t met with anv more serious oppesition than a black eye and a skinned nose, so far.”—Puck. MODESTY. She—Oh, Fred, dear, you are so noble, S0 generous, so handsome, so chivalrous, S0 much the superior of every man [ meet I just can’'t help loving you. Now, what do you see in plain little me to admire? He—Oh, I don’t knew, dear; b ut yoe have very good judgment.—Truth RIGHTEOUS INDIGNATION “Did you kiss him?” Jemanded the mother. AS IT SEEMED TO HIM “Certainly not,” indignantly answeredl ' !the girl. *“Do you think I'd be so for- Now, the two had loafed all morning | Ward?”’ And a few minutes later she gave and had caught nething. "a deep sigh of relief and muttered softly “Fish run in schools, I understand,” | to herself, “Thank heaven, she didn't ask said one. tit he kissed me."—Chicago Post. “They do,”” added the other. S——— At that moment the one raised his hook and looked at it. “This must be vacation time,” he add- ed.—Harper’s Bazar. TOO SOUND. “I see you're advertising for a boy. How'il I do?” “You look all COSTLY RABBITS. *““There is a man in New York who has paid $600 for a Belgian hare. What do you think of that for foolishmness?"" “Oh, that isn't so foolish. 1 know a man whe can trace the loss of $7000 direct- ly to one hind foot of a rabbit that he thought was going to bring him luck in a right. How are your | poker game.”"—Chicago Times-Herald teeth?” ‘ “My teeth? They’re perfectly sound. | @ ¢ ¢ ¢ @ ¢8¢8-08-009+4+Q You can lock at 'em.” “Yes, I see. Well, you won't do. I want a boy who will take part of his pay | in dental work.””—Chicago Tribune. FRAIL HUMAN NATURE. Ikey—Fader, do you t’ink it vos true dot effery man has his brice? His Father—Vell, a good many of dem has; undt, vot’s more, dey can be chewed down.—Puck. < -e ANSWER AMBIGUOUS. Her Mamma—Clara, dear, I hope when that young man calls on you you don't let him get too near. Clara—Oh, no, mamma. When he here we have a chair between us time. is all the