The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, January 1, 1905, Page 7

5 E jalveston - ‘street car-tickeis ig not a:fe . vent -workire. capital with which fo begin life anew at Houston or any other given point in Texas.. Lady authors on “How to Live on 92 Cents Per Week” might deem that sum colos- L dut don't you beligve thém. I'tried t‘onge, and would not m {inilar attem)it, now that my Rha living have thanged,.with less than 40 ients: The -tickets “came to me as’ Tecom: pense work with a shovel : Galvestd * boss; "1 ok A ¢ 2 ta Hous- tens At the time ragsd. ‘hetween, th E: Houston, ‘more. than- wis. needed to wash:dawn the hread, but T.'maraged to find cozy sleeping ry.culvert on one of-the The name of the street hés siipped my memory, yet-most any boy. placed. as I was can easily locate HE occasion for every man who has done’ . something- that: he s ashamed of, ought 'to ‘be,: ta L *. take unto hiniself a mighty oath “thiat “he Will hencéforih: and forever- more . abstafn from: all réprehensible practices ‘whatsoever. “THis 5 a’ very gaod thing and shonld be erico but somehow far back in: the: remote recesses of our ‘cardiac apparatus we cannot:get so excitéd. over this parf species of . weformiation - hs : probably should. "Tn the -first; place, e have seen too rauch: of- this weary world .of ‘care and dther uripleasant things not to know that g registered: vow taken in the rhiddle of tke might or.the told gray dawn of the miorning aftér is onc of thé easiest things .to ERE s just.one ting- I wants and can't gef. . A .silk. dicer,"a 1id, a bonnet, s ‘Mr. Paul has' lots of ’em, butihis Jap valet *grabs 'em: off of Mr.: Pa as dey gets'a little“on de blink and I- never gets 2 look in on a li:of dat kind, g AN It's a funny ting about dat Jap— and all of "em—dat ke'd radder wear a silk 1id dan hear of adodder wal- loping. of Cory Pat McCanr .by-Fuja- mama. - Mr. Paul's valet has of his own dat would lpose eve “hair _cne’ de odder day. _taught it was a music gale. Being Hard the cul At; and *he rt if he needs doubtles 1 & wiil. - The only.iron foundry at Houston had , - cloged.down for want of work, and I was about to do the same at. the end of two days. But one ticket remained in my -touring fund, and T squandered that for‘moré bread. On the morning of the I moved around the streets hen with the pip. It was raining plénty and 1 lurked inthe shelter of a stdewalk dWning, thinking pensively of b, flood that by nightfall would be hrough my-late dry culvert. The liope' flickered but faintly in v eye caught -for the *'I-applied bearing this letters: * “Mr. tern and: West- Gauge . Railroad . The name was al- ¢ide and mearly as long as \lvozd, but 4 didn’t-know: this at the" time. e 3 The: as.an oil persan visible in the office -looking -elderly creatnré— vain men, who suspects his, hair is ctr nd does things fo strengthen the on. This man's ir A treaks of black ¥ s d with grease and tousled. into the -semblance” of shoft The whole effect suggested a ¢ fried onions, and rhade me so ‘I ‘almost forgot ivhat .I came THE PRIZE BEAUTY. What is it, boy?” the oily man shly inquired. “I'm looking for work, sir,” I replied, gazing fascinated at his fried onions. He must have taken my glance for one of profound admiration. His man- ner softened, and, after sizing me up, he said 1 didn’t look much like a work- ing man. That wasn't my fault, I said, and then told him all my troubles. “Poor boy!” he said, in such a sad way I could have wept over my own misfortunes. “Really, you are not able to work after those hardships. Your system is all run down. Whal you need is some light occupation— a mild diversion, as it were, to take your mind off yourself and tone you up. We have the very place for you.” “Where is it?” I asked, ready to shed tears of joy and gratitude. *At our railroad camp in Polk County, seventy-five miles from here, Splendid scenery, nice surroundings, pure air and fine board. We will pass you:out on the railroad and pay you $1 50 per day and deduct 50 cents for board. The train starts in an hour. Are you ready to go?” Was 1 ready? Well, guess yes. When he wrote out the pass I gal- loped all the way to the station. I traveled in my baggage and made good time. A little jerk-water narrow gauge engine and one coach com- prised ‘the train and 1 took a front seat in the car. The trip to Living- ston gensumed most of the day, ow- ing to numerous stops at new settle- ments of small and mangy aspect. When the conductor punched my tick- et he wanted to know why I went to Livingston. vy “To wotk en the railroad,” I sald proudly. “You'll stay bac! he retorted laugh. I.didn’t -understand him then, but Jater on his meaning struck me in a Jump and the blow was a cocker, Shortly before dusk we reached Livingston, Polk County, Tex., and halted for the night, as the track end- ed there. That was the jumping-off place. So far as I could see the bus- just long enough to get with a brutal tling city eof Livingston comprised much swamp, three box cars standing on a siding and some tiny log huts in the bushes. In the few.places clear of water a fellow could get all the mud' he wanted and then some. I was the only. passenger who played the train to the limit, and when I alighted a large man in a red flannel shirt seemed by .instinct to know just what to do with me. ‘“See that eabin?” he said, pointing to a' hut at the edge of the clearing. “That’s where you sleep. Now go to the cars and get your supper. 'll need you in'the morning.” Two of the boxcars formed the dining hall, fitted up with rough board tables and henches spiked to the floor. In’the .third car, which was coupled to the others, 4 dope-dazed Chinaman dream- ed he was the cook. Supper being over, the Chinaman brought me a tin platter of cold salt pork and corn bread. 1 ate the whole business and would have asked for more only I didn't know the cock very well. After cleaning - out the banquet hall, 1 groped among stumps and puddles to the cluster of icg huts. Campfires burned in front of the doors, lighting up groups of mud- dy, shaggy men, who looked like pi- rates, smoking and swearing in the weird glare. . Iu the doorway of the hut assigned to me, and which stood apart from the others, sat a man of giant skeleton frame, with his face buried in his bony hands. He appeared to be thinking. His huge feet were sprawled out toward a pile of blazing sticks. On hearing me approach he peered up through his fingers, still keeping his features concealed. 4 “Who sent you here, bub?” growled. “The- big man in .the red shirt,” said, apologetically. “That’s the boss. Did he say anything about the Prize Beauty?” ‘. “He did not,” I replied, beginning to feel scared. ‘‘Who might he be?" “Me!"” sald the skeleton, with a hor- rible laugh. “I'm a {ree show in these parts, Look!" et Removing his hands, he exposed his face to the firelight. Under each eye was a wide, crescent-shaped scar, fully two inches long, with the points turn- ed upward, Another scar, clean cut and regular, passed along below his chin and extended from ear to ear. he I “In the middle this gash was at least thtee inches wide, and, like the oth- ors, was of a dull red in a setting .of sickly. white. My hutmate certainly was a Prize Beauty. “That is what they call me here,” he said, as if reading my thoughts, “and I'll tell you about it. The other fellows know, and I'll give it to you straight, only don’t laugh. Sit there on that stump and listen. Now, then, first off, have you ever been in love?” Feeling it safer to tell the truth, I said that Mr. Cupid’s dart had not yet plerced my tender vitals. “Don’t ever be in love, my boy,” he went on mournfully. *“There's nothing in that game. I was in love once, and all I got out of it was a face like com- ets shooting across the milky way. The lady lived in Indiana, and at the time we met I weighed 360 pounds. Looked like a prize Berkshire hog at the coun- try fair. She said she couldn’t marry a fat man, so. I went in for anti-fat. I owned a drug store and kept the stuff in stock. Well, the medicine pulled me down as thin as I am now and left me a holy show. Two pouches of loose skin hung beneath my eyes, like purses, and the, flap of waste LuckTales andDo:ngs of an Ama By~ Charles Dryden ' der my chin would half-sole a pair of boots. The lady never would have me in that shape, so I went to Indianapolis and hired a beauty doctor to skin me.” “Did he do you up like that?” I in- quired in shocked accents. 2 “Not quite. The job was all right at first. The scars on my eyes scarcely showed, and my neck bore a thin red mark. Looked like I had worn a hat with a rubber band under the chin, kid fashion. The lady warmed up right away, and the love business was boom- ing until I started to get fat. That put an end to love's young dream and drove me forever from the haunts of females.” Here the Prizé Beauty bent his head iy silent anguish, while I.sat and shiv- ered and waited for the end. “The flesh kept piling up on me in spite of anti-fat, or anything else. That (drug had lost its grip, and I soon went up to 300 pounds. The loose skin the Qeauty doctor cut away left my face cramped for room, I couldn’t shut my eyes, and the wide hem taken up under the chin drew my head forward, till T could see nothing but the ground with eyes that never closed. On top of this awful affliction the lady I loved sent word that she heard I had lost a nickel in boyhood and was out looking for it. At last she expected me, because I walked with my head down and eyes wide open. “Her-cruel sneer stung me, mostly in the places where I had no skin. I sent a farewell note to the fickle maiden, sold the drug store and flew the coop. Worry and despair pulled the fat off me again, but the strain on the cuts was so great they stretched and never closed up.. I'll never be any better,” he added sadly. ‘This is a good place for me and here I stay. Time now to go to bed. Climb in.” Vastly moved by this story of beauty and spurned affections, 1 wriggled into a bunk that contained the same kind of bedding they give a horse. Lodgers in railroad camps furnish thelr own bedding, and I had forgotten mine, The night turned cold, and ‘I would have suffered much but for the heat gener- ated in my system thinking of the oily haire@ villain at Houston who had steered me into that den of luxury and mild dlversion. At daylight all hands were rcuted out to a breakfast of fat pork, dried apples and coffee. The Chinaman was at his worst in the cof- fee line. After breakfast I was handed a shovel and loaded with the gang on to a string of flat cars pushed by a dinky engine. In a narrow cut of yel- low clay, which the rain had washed upon the track, the workers were dumped off into the ditches on either side of the road and ordered to shovel mud. The water covering the mud had frozen a thin sheet of ice over night, and when I jumped I bogged down to my knees in the chill mass. I looked at the other fellows. Light occupation seemed to be their regular business, so I bored in and dug with the best of them. The tops of the flat cars on which we piled the yellow muck stood level with our faces. In order to discharge a shoyel load it was necessary to bang the shovel edge on the car. The ef- fect was like dropping a decayed pumpkin off a tall building. Gobs of smeary vellow goo squirted in all di- rections. It lodged in my eyes, ears and hair and plastered my clothes from top to bottom. After loading the cars the engine towed them to nother place, where we pushed the Th and went back for OR THE FOOLISF break of which: himan consciousness takes note: TIt.is .not that men are intentionally dishonest; few men are that, and even.they:iwon’t admit it; but it'is s imple matter- to for- get. just what oné.meant in the orig- iial’ iny ‘A ‘great deal depends on the interpretation of oaths, as well a%-of. constitutians. 2 : ry .wé could give stics on .this sub- ject ‘selected at first hand, ot an. atitobiography and for-that and for other reasons we shall restrain our uthful impetuosity. Instead we shall offer a few. well chbsen remarks on the career’ of a friend of ours, the late J. ‘Water. ‘Wagon. Dreams and names .usually go by contraries; which is the explanation of "the cognomen which jvas tacked on to this poor sufferer— from €hronic thirst. From early morn- ing until late-at night he was busy with but this is. his self-appointed task of suppressing the demon rum. The amount he sup- pressed in the course of an ordinary working day would have floated a good sized rowboat and/in a year he put the quietus on enough to have carried a battleship over the bar. This is all the more startling when you consider_ that it was all carried over the bar by J. W. in the first instance. Of course there were times when J. W. had moments of repentance, but not for long. The man who doesn't wake up in the morning with,a bold, bad taste in his mouth and pause in his career long enough to wish that he could be good, at least till his head stopped aching, is more—or less— than human. The thing which re- stores our belief that human nature is still doing busines at the old stand is the fact that men can still be sorry for their misdeeds. To be sure, it doesn’t prevent them from going out and committing more right on top of their remorse, but it's a good thing Jjust the same. In the course of time our friend J. W. took upon himself a wife and began to give an imitation of a man living a sober and respectable life. That is to say, he went to church, at least when his wife had a new bonnct or his cigars had given out, and he did his dissipating quietly and in or- der behind the closed doors of his highly respectable club, along with other decent members of society. It was not that he behaved himself more but that he didn’t let so many people find out about it. - Of course Mrs. J. W. was dead on to J. W.'s shortcom- ings—although she would probably have called them longcomings. The man who thinks that women don’t have a pretty clear idea of what thelir husbands are doing isn't very well acquainted with the sex. She knew all the time that J. W. was punishing the year’s output of the distilleries pretty severely every night he went down to the club, but, being a wise woman, she held her peace, thanking her favorite constellations meanwhile that he kept ont of the police station and always remembered to tell the right street and number to the cab- man when the club was closed. The years wore slowly away and for a while it appeared as though the house of Mrs, J. W. was built on.exceedingly unstable sand. But the end came at last. J. W, arose one morning of a certain cold December day with a head like an overloaded barrel and a general feeling that the universe was a misfit and that all the inhabitants thereof were united in an endeavor to make his life miserable. Also he discovered that his hands didn’t seem to have any very definite relation to the rest of his body. Each separate and distinct hair on his N N N N N N N N e O N R N N0 P00 D0 G0000 N OO0 00000 in your liead fo try to say, so I calls him Tokiv to save- dentist bills. Well, .Tokio, he grabs off all de silk dicers dat Mr: Paul ¢alls in, and what he don’t” wear himself he passés out at a- profit. fo the odder Jap valets he runs wit,” So I never gets a chance at .'em. But I taught I had a cinch on Miss Fannie she gives a music gale—what's dat? A musicale? Well, if dat's de name of de show let it go at dat, but I always It's more like it. Anyway, Miss Fannie she gives one of ’em, and dere was profesh all over de house singing Dutch opera and playing sweltzer tings on de piano till I wondered wedder we wag on de Nort River or de Rhine. ‘What's de matter wit American music? I wasn't de only one who was asking dat question, for after dec forn profesh had sung all de Leber Augustines dere was in dere box of tricks and de long-haired piano Char- Jey had knocked de wires out of the machine and dey had all got deir good little old checks for long green and gone oft for deir frankforters and beer, de gents gets togedder in the smoking-room and says dat for de real ting in music de songs of Broad- way beat any band dat ever come over from Chermany. , Mr. Paul says he had de greatest American songster off de stage right dere; and if de gents wanted to hear de real article he’d try and oblige. Dey ail says “Sure!” and ‘“Hear, hear!” and Mr. Paul stops me pulling de plugs from pints d says, “Chames,” he Says, “oblige de com- . pany wit your original plaintive nar- OF H1S TIME READIN A B0k rative opus. obligato in six flats and four sharps, entitled, ‘When de Day's ‘Work Is Done.” B .Say, dat's de song I used to sing . to me. own kiddie, as well as to little ‘Miss Fannie, when de noise couldn’t get de sand man.to come. It's all OO right to put kids to sleep wit, but dat isn’t de effect it has on grown-ups. I'd sing it to you now, only de cops would run me in for creating a distoibance. Dis is de way the wolds go—if I hasn’t told you before: “Wan morning early Oi arose, And Of puts on me working close, And where in de woild dy'e tink Of goes— Up, up, up, up, To a Hundred and - Ninety-sixt street.” Den de song goes on to tell how de felly hasn’t de price of a ticket to ride back home in de Nint ward by Sub- way or Elevated, so he walks home, and when he gets dere it's time to start back again, and so all de time he isn’t wolking he’s walking to woik and back, and never getting a chance to eat, drink or go to bed, he saves all his wages until he gets enough to buy a big brown-stone front and run for Alderman. ‘Well, say, aftdr about de fort verse, when de gents was next to de chorus, and could sing it in time and tune, we were having more of a music gale dan they had upstairs in de music room, and more fun, too. I knows dat de gents had a good time from de size of de tips day yield- ed up to me; and right dere was where I seén a silk dicer floating my way. I had more dan de price all right—but I didn’t get de lid. ‘When I sees Duchess after de ball was over she says, “Was de house on fire down in de smoking-room, or was dere only murder?” “On your way, woman!” I says, “it was me singing.” . “Indeed, e says, hols ‘her eyebrows; “I taught it was a riot. “De gents didn’t tink so, smarty,” I says. “How did you know?” she. says. “Dey may sald polite tings about h};o\l.. but dey: couldn’t been amused - THE - distoibance of de peace.” “Couldn’t dey!” I says, getting hot in de collar. “Well,” says I, “do you call dese tings polite remarks, or are dey long green? Is dese tings proof dat your husband can outsing any, Cherman spieler dat ever come over on a ten-dollar steerage ticket, or not? Maybe I was only distoibing de peace, but if I was, somebody else paid de fine.” Dat's what I said, being stuck on meself. Tl never be anything but a farmer if I live to be as old as one of Mr. Depoo’s youngest stories. Duchess, she kind of felt for de long green I was making such a front wit, she kind of annexed it, and she kind of sunk it in her jeans—and dat was de finish of it for yours truly. “I'll keep dis, Master Cheems,” she says. “You are so foolish a young man dat you are not to be trusted wit money. Isuspected dat you was making tips down dere when I hears your voice going up, up, to de Harlem, so I just Jollied you to make you show de stuff; gave you a con talk to make you flash de goods so I could get my pretty hands on ’em. So foolish a person, one to say flim-flammed out of his tips, must not be let to keep money; so your dear wife will hold de stakes for you till you get wise—as wise as your wife.” If man wasn’t so easy made a fool of by a woman he would have an easier Job proving how much wiser dan woman he {s. If I had kept all de tips Duchess has touched me for, if I had salted away half of de boodle I has lost to dat woman because I gets chesty ‘when she is only getting wise, I'd have a bank roll so big dat it would a shame to own it, I suppose dats de son dat a man is made to tink dat he is wiser dan woman, is to make it easier for “voman to woik him. Woman isn't built to wolk very hard, and as she has mostly to woik ' de good Lord queer she isnlt ashamed to toin such an easy trick. But I was going to tell you about me fren de Jap valet. Dat mug spends most - of his time reading a book by Billy—no, not Billy, but anodder Emer- son named Ralph Waldo. I don’t think he was in de minstrel line like Billy; anyway when de Jap give me one of his books to read I didn’t see no good end-man jokes in it. It was funny, all right; but Tokio tells me dat it wasn't meant to be funny. ‘What is it, den?”" I asks him, ‘It's philos’phy,” he says. “What kind of a flim-flam game is dat?” I says. 4 a speculation on de nature of tings,” he says right off de reel, like he knew what de woids meant. “You didn’t have to read no book to do dat?” I says. “Tings,” I says, “is tings, and dey stays tings wedder you speculates on ’em, or buys ’em right out, and puts 'em in safe deposit. Anyway, it's a farmer’s game to specu- late. I heard Whiskers say dat de only way to do is to pay for what you get; put up no margin, but pay de whole price, and den you don't care if de market for de tings goes down. All dat you has to do is to walt for it to go up again. Tings must go up, sometimes, or dere would be ng place for ’em to go down to. it ~ late, Tokio,” I says to him, for he is a good sort and I like him. an American’s advice, and don’t specu- late, no matter what dis mug Emerson says. Don't take de bait in you mout ‘while de bait is still on’ de hook. Take de bait off the hook, and den it will taste better, and you won't get such a sore mout.” "!md‘mb;sh." “De says 'Tokio. speculate made him so easy to wolk dat it seems “Take / d Wadon more, When the noon iour came I resemiled the statue of some great general In the modeling stage. = All I needed was a sword in place of the shovel. The only spot clear of mud ‘was my mouth, and I filled that with fried pork. ‘Work in the afternoon was much the same, except the late March air was not so keen. The supply of mud held out. In fact, it oozed into the cut as fast as we hauled it away, and I beheld enough gentle diversion amid pleasant surroundings to be the death of me. The Prize Beauty was not at work that day. I found him in the cabin door after supper peeling off his scalped face and looking at the fire. He ask; me how I liked the place. I said I'd go back to Houston in the morning. “Not this time, bub,” he said, kind- ly. “It's seventy-five miles to Hous- ton and the rate is 10 cents a mile. They pass.a fellow out here and he must pay his way back. That takes $750. The least you can do it in is eleven days, including two Sundays, for which board is charged. Nine days’ work, if it doesn’t rain, bring you $13 50, and eleven days' board at 50 cents per, comes to $550. De- ducting $7 50 for railroad fare, you may, if you live, return to Houston in about two weeks with a net profit of 50 cents.” The facility with which the Prize —a TP “I FOUND COZY SLEEPING QU ‘ten\rflol)o Heauty did mental arithmetic in and around in affairs made me iil. But he was right. They had me canned in the swamp, and the only way out was to dig it with a shovel. 1 went to bed in my muddy clothes a blighted, blasted, ruined mechanic. Anvhow, I could eat while working out my sentence, and that was a better prospect than walk- ing back to Houston. Comforted by this view of the case, 1 fell asleep, and remained that way all night: In the morning 1 was unable to move, and thought I had become para- lyzed from overwork, anxiety and wor- But Rt was merely the clothes. The heat of my body caked the mud .with which the gar smeared, and as i This pleasing discovery cheered me much, and as the day was Sunday, and bright and warm, I spent most of the time beating tue mud armor off myself with a club. The Prize Beauty showed me how, as he was on to all the niceties of camp life. He had spent years at the business, and said he would end his un in gummy seclusion. This inrequited love worked one and loafed two on the proceeds. was his system. A rugged constitution and an appe- tite of the same enabled me to surv my career in Mr. P. Beaumont's swa; At the end of two weeks I headed for Houston to invest my 60 cents net orofit, . weel That Tl e ARTERS IN A DRY CULVERT." CHOLLAS head seemed to be making an earnest effort to stick as far as possible into his skull and his face felt as though it belonged to some one uise and was about three inches too small to fit him. His first idea was that he had better die at once and have it done with. Than, on more mature consideration, he concluded that he would give him- self another chance. Mrs. J. W, being informed of the state of affairs ordered dry toast and weak tea to be put on the ways and sent out for the family appendix-amputator. The latter looked J. W. over and punched him in two or three places where he thought it would hurt most. Then he put on his glasses, screwed up his face and in- formed him that if he would confine his gastronomic operations to infant food and beef tea there was a chance that he might live another year. Ex- tract of corn was not included in the list of prescribed nutriments. WISDOM# WOMAN = # UNWISDOM# PHILOSOPHERS Ghosts, eh? Well, I has known mugs dat speculated on ghosts, and dey is de easiest frens I has to locate—dey is all in de bughouse now. In de ’sylums, See? Cut it out, Toklo. You is a good boy, and can drink a glass of beer like a real American. Cut out de ghosts, or you'll be seeing tings dat isn’t dere. Have notting to do wit philos’phy, if dat's its game. Opium is easier, and you have de smoking of it. I'll loan you me copy of Billy Emerson’s Song Book. It'll do you more good, and when you have loined de woids I'll teach you de tunes, and ‘we'll give a concert to de help.” Tokio looked like he would go an- odder round wit me and see could he get his ideas into me capo, but I dis- couraged him. “It's no use, Tokio, me boy,” I says to him. “I know what you are up against now, only I didn't know its polite name was philos’phy. In America we calls one kind pipe dreams and anodder kind crankism. Dey is all de same ting. Also, Tokio, dey leads to de same kind of wuzzi- ness. Cut it all out. It comes from a bad liver. You are not taking enough exercise, me boy. Put on two over- ccats and come wit me for a ten-mile fast walk down de Post Road. No- body on eart ever speculated on de nature of tings while he was in a gcod sweat from open air exercise. Dere isn't a man in a bughouse in de woild dat ever rode horseback or played golf or sawed wood regular. Tings dat isn’t real wasn't made to be speculated on. Walk around a block to get rid of seeing a ting dat can't be seen, Dey may be all right for mugs, dat can see double, but for plain, sober taxpayers de woist dat can hap- pen is to snarl up his tinking machine about tings dat isn't’ “But,” says Tokio, butting in, “if we do not study philos'vhy. how can we know what is?” i NEMO:- After hearing this verdict J. W. res verted for a moment to his original in- tention of dying quietly and graceful~ ly. Death and the prospect the doctor held out seemed very much alike to him anyway. Then he concluded that he would see what a sober life would seem like, for the sake of the scientific aspects of the experiment if for no other reason. In other words, he swore off. That's all there is to the story. J. W, is still true to his name, 5 All of which leads us to the ime portant conclusion that a New Year's resolution is not so much a matter of moral reformation as it is ef physical deterioration. Most men determine to be good only when they can't afford to be bad any longer. We would also conclude that the paths of virtue are crowded with people whose feet have grown tender from treading othem roads. Copyright, 1904, by Albert Britt. . —— - “Tut!” I says. ‘You philos'phers are not trying to find out what is; you are rubbering to find out what isn't. Dat way—tp de bughouse!” (Copyright, 1904, by Edward W, Townsend.) . 3 i s A