The evening world. Newspaper, September 10, 1908, Page 17

The Evening World Daily Magazine, The Million Dollar Kid “Fiuffy BY CHARLE OOR Old Flutt!” 66 at the Criterion ‘Theatre to say thet “Flufty Ruft ‘} edy ‘star’ afraid to co j { colored supplement, le Leads Hattie Williams a Wild Goose Chase, Raffles” S DARNTON. So goes the song and 6o goes the whole uffair . At ts only fair to Miss Hattle Williams les" jg enough to make any musical com. me out in tne light. Of course, no ons could be expected to make a “book” of a tof all John J, McNally, Charles Frohman, ekilled in the guessing game, might have guessed ay much. And 60, if we are to belleve “all we have read of Mr. fall upon his head alone, Froh Harmony Hattie Williams as Fluffy Ruffles. the tr, s this zit was gs n's infatuation for ‘Fluffy, the penalty should As a rule, Mr. Frohman is quick to see his mistal Already, while the iron of criticism is hot, he has announced his Intention of striking “Diana of Dobson's" from his early list of productions. By doing this he may be doing a great deal for Misy Carlotta Nillson. He might do as much for Miss Willlams, ‘Fluity Ruffles" only leads Miss Will- {ams a wild goose chase, This ‘musical molange," ag it 1s desperately called, gives her various jobs, but ahe falls to make a good job of any of them. mald In London and @ cab driver in Paris, not to mention @ suffragette and varlous other characters. You watch Miss Williams in her strange wander- ings off the key and elsewhere and nme b e thing: She has grown elim- She has taught her figure the art of behaving itself. It tg trim and e and almost “Fluffy.” You feel at it has worked hard and that it is deserving of better things. If Mr. Mc- Nally had seen {t before he started to work he, too, might have been light if not g But Mr, MaNally ts heavy. He rests upon your sense of humor Ike a plum pudding picked before Its time, Mean- while Miss Williams escapes. She is off to change h gown and on to show other one. But she nevor changes We heard a great deal abont hor volce, guinmer, but we do not hear any results, In spite of WT. Francis, Wallace Irwin and the song factories duly recog- nized by ame, Miss Williams's songs do not fit her. If she had be given ac * song or two Hfe at the Criterion would be sweeter, “The Girl from Kay's" took the measure of her voles more successfully, In ‘*Flufty Tuffles" she has only one number, “Willie's Got Another Girl ," that Is on Singing terms with her. Geville, yet It {s none Then, * less welcome. ing else to Guffragettes, Vlar above the crowd in a burning fever of wom or woman's wrongs 86 “speech” at the high-topped George Grossmith, jr. Like poor hurls a head of Mr. Grossmith you don't quite know what to make of !t. If only the pretty Ittle auffragetie witn the pretty little yotce had thrown herself at Mr. Grossmith’s head he provably would nave been bet- ter pleased. Mr. Grossmith !s very good In a very bad part. Ae a stupid Englishman he @miably libels the deah old chaps at home and sings about "Augustus" neat- ly !f not melodiousiy. But when he and Miss Willloms enter a conspiracy called @ “duet” and hit it off the key your fong-suffering cries out in pro- test. Their "Initiations" are even more deadly. The only singer in the company va Miss Marie Annis, who doesn't arrive until the last act. After hearing her Sing “Echo of My Heart” {t ts not diffi. cult to reach the conclusion that she has a very good heart. "Jack" Gard- ner, he of the pouting eyes and bleat- ing baritone, 18 more free with his volo. especially when pretty chorus girls are Ground to help him out, (Which re- minds me that Ethel Kelly now spells herself Ethel. Home, James!) By the way, this Isn't the worst Place in the world for one of Mr. Gros “Have you had any experience with “Oh, yes," he replies. “I once took Once mor ey have such jolly hear it because of the noise!” Bert Lesile “adds up his talx well !n the way of “Inugh every Iittle helps “Fluffy Ruffles.” soul It ts of the Vesta Victorian period of voiceless vau- Miss Willfams runs off and Joins the WHarmeny Grossmith, jr, a Augustus Traddles, smith's little jokes, Stage robbers?” he 1s asked. a chorus girl out to supper," thunder In New York, only you can't Hon, George {n fanu‘Har vaudeville slang and does very But he seems a long way om home. However, +-—___ Cute Advice From Clyde Fitch. is honor not 1% novelist T a dinner given in A he once gave an asy long ago Clyde Fitch told of the advice Who worrled him with his books, It appears that the embryo Flelding was better qualified to sell shoes than write novels. One day he came to 0 one will read my manuscripts. Mr. Fitch in a great state of mind. There is a conspiracy of silence against She {s a shopgirl In New York, a bar-| WELL, MARIUTCH, i Her Parents Obyect. Dear Retty: Y folks object to my correspond- | ing with a young fellow with whom I am deeply in love, and | he Js in love with me. I want to corre- spond with him. Iam nineteen and he is twenty, He writes good, sensible letters. Can my folks do anything to |me if I write, because I am of age? HEARTBROKEN. Your parents must have some good reason for their objections, They are older and wiser and most certainly have your welfare at heart. Why not talk over the matter with your mother, frankly telling her you love the young man and wish her permission to write him? If she refuses her consent I ad- vise you to abide by her decision, for you are too young and headstrong to be @ good judge of the men you now think you love. Hits Daily Letter, Dear Betty; ies a year ago I met a very nice young lady. At first she didn't seem to I!ke me at all, but this summer I have been spending my weekends at the place where she 1s staying. She goes out with me all the How's BUSINESS ? You'd GETTER TAKE| THIS, MARIWTCH! | IT'LL KIND Oo’ ' ime NUELP YOU OUT! 1 Go BACK TO SUNNY \T' AND BE BIGCA DA NOBLEMAN! GOOD-A& BYE 900.0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000) Gives | Betty Vineent AH, MEESTA MONK, DA BIZ HE 1S A Rot! veR' BAD, VER’ BAD! Wot? BIGGA DA MON’? FoR mE? GRAciA! \ WEY! DON'T KNOCK SHE CHAIR OVER! hun! éHI time I am down there, and writes to me every day while I'm In the city Do vou think she loves me? As I an only twenty years old and earning $5 a week I am afraid to ask her if she cares enough to walt for me. H. A. 000000000000000000) Qn Courtship Marriage WIDOW §OOHYOYDOODOOSOGOOS OO would not send you a dally letter. However, her devotion may not be rong enough to stand the test of @ ong engagement. As you are so young and earn such a small salary I advise vou not to think of any girls seriously Evidently the girl loves you, or she! for a few years, NES sald to Farmer B: alyes, : The calves cost $12, the pigs have twice as many pigs as sheep—then how many calves have 1?” rown: “I've Invested $15 In those plgs, $5, and the sheep $3. I CENT ~ WIFE AND BAMBINO STARVE! THE WAY! HE NEVER EVEN FINISHED my By R. W. Taylor PLLA LLL LLL PL LISA L ILE, NO MAKE = FoR ME? J CANT -A_ BELIEVE! | | | THAT'S ALWAYS NE! DOOOHODHDOGODSDOODODOGDODGIHDIGHOIG«) She Wants to Win Him. Dear Betty: | JAM a young girl and am deeply in love with a boy of my own age. 1| | 4 have recelved many postals from him, but I do not think he loves me, Kindly tell me how to win his aftec- tlon? HEARTBROKEN. The tone of your letter leada me to believe that you are too young to be deeply in love with any one. Be friends with the boy and do not let him see you Wish for his admiration, or your eager- ness may cause him to withdraw his friendship, 31 Lobes 18, Dear Betty: i | AM eighteen, and am in love with a| man of thirty-one. Is he too old for me? He often speaks of mar- rying me. He {s well fixed finanolally, | T love him dearly, and have known | him for six years. Do you advise me| to finish my course In college—I have | inother year—or to marry him now? AH A man of thirty-one Is not too old for a girl of eighteen. However, I ad- vise you to finish your course at col- lege before marrying, as at present you are very young for matrimony, | she didn't and Irritated by those who “aE Thursday, September 10, 1908. QDQOEOHOOHDHDOOHHOOHHOOHHHOOHHHOHHHHDOHOHHHOODHODODOGOAY The Two-Minute Pulpit 8 Secular Sermonettes tor Busy People. By J. K. Le Baron, 90000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000, POVERTY IS NO HANDICAP, O those of us who envy and covet it should be a comfort that poverty la no handicap, and that genius 1s not within the purchasing power of the most opulent. The development of genius, however, depends upon the co-opera- thon of ambition. Great aime find expression in action, The candle does not {Ilumine untt! i ts lighted. Latent talent wastes itself until it !s stimu- lated by energy. The belief exists that we are all, in a greater or less d'gree, geniuses, Not necessarily Miltens of Agassizes, Angelos or Edisons, but we all possess some talent that {s worth oultivating, wome potentiality for bettering the world, What more pathetio epitaph could a man have than that his death was no lose, which Is equivalent to saying that his life was no benefit to mankind? Every man has in his make-up the germ of genius. It may be small to the verge of the infinitesimal and stagnant (roi long neglect, but It is every man's duty to Issue @ search warrant for that germ, find it, foster it, develop it. If It has lain dormant for ages {t may at first be only susceptible of being amplified into a talent. Talent 1s an abridged edition of genius. It 18 @ neanby duty for every man to search himself for the talent that is in him and to be as much of @ genius as possible, “The microscope cannot find the animalcule which ts less perfect for being little," says Emerson The genius which we may discover may possibly seem too small to be worth cultivating, but by encouragement it will grow. It may not bring us wealth or fame in our day, but it may bring both to our posterity, and thet is woth something. Am we are enjoying Ddlessings left us by our forebears, so It is our duty to leave eomething for posterity. Then when our summons comes we will at least deserve a respectable epttaph. To-day the world !s more just and generous than ft was even @ century ago. On all skies we see geniuses enjoying to the fullest the fruits of thelr ef- ‘Torta. When men digcover great truths in this age they are not burned at the stake, You could not imagine a Galileo meeting Gallleo's fate to-day, In the evolution of the world we have reached a higher plane, we are more receptive. The people are prepared to expect great innovations and to accept gteat inventions. There 1s less hostility to progress than in the centuries past, when every advance was misinterpreted and every soldier of truth was come pelled to battle with the legions of superstition, Bruno for honest opinions and for the defense of truth was tortured and burned at the stake in the seventeenth century. Darwin was hafled with high honors In the nineteenth century. Paine wns reviled and vilified in 1400. Beecher was canonized In 1900, Southey to-day would not be ostracized at Ox ford should he ridicule the {dea of a personal devil. A real horned devil is not as essential to our creeds as It was in 1793. In this age genius has a fair chance. jinn HOSE he Cure for Nerves That Fails : By Lilian Bell, rr OMETIMES j little birdies begin to waken and they S people whose | hold your attention until 4, when, satls- nerves | flea with their share in keeping you are shattered by the | awake, they shut up and go on about a x their busines roar of city nolses | “"ny", 8, rs are beginning anyway, a and roosters always chat along about are ordered to the | Or ite with three friends on the farm country for a rest | just three miles beyond, | The begin to He about ind quiet. They drive to & cool white house with green blinds, along a dirt road Instead of our nolay asphalt, and in the slanting rays of, the set- ting suf, the quiet and peace of It all ens don't hey exp st to do next spring, seem almost too gocd to be true. They sit for a {le on the front porch, under the shady vines, and watch the chipmunks and red squirrels race up and down the tree trunks. The drone of bees Is In the alr, A few sleepy chirps come from the nesting birds, and before they know It they are so sleepy they go to bed. But do they sleep? Perhaps for an hour, Then—what 1s that? Locusts? Don't tell me that any in sects can make such an Infernal nolse with thelr legs or wings, It sounds like Fourth of July. Katvdids? Will that frightful discus sion and tiresome contradiction ever end? You try not to listen, but you find yourself agitated over those who say | It Was Squirrels, Tree toads certainly never make that| under your window to do It. Avg curious noise which sounds like the) ,,f,any Wagons pass tn the night the quacking of distant ducks. | the house to join In one mighty laugh, Bullfrogs you know. You have met| oF the merry shouts of @ hay ride bring them before, But what Is that gnaw-| “nou At Your doze se ange ing in the wall at the head of your| thing dse, gives out: and Soon after bed and the rolling of the marbles/ /!"¥ ieht the morning chores give. like rats, but you are surprised the k of things In general, next dav to learn that !t was squirrels. tie y so tt restful In the co It sounded like beavers at least | Cons che aA ECLA SV ECce Ay eteras Dare These nolses Inst until 8, Then the! gives wrecked by city noises, and it them quite a change to go there, $99$099999OO99-009900O949-0909004-0O00000000 1 Revelation New Vork Society ‘Copyright. 1907, by Robert W. Chambers) NOPSIS OF PREVIOUS INSTALMENTS. Capt. Philip Selwyn, whose wife Allxe had fvorced him to marry Jack Ruthven, re- urns to New York visit bls alster and roiner-tn-law, rand. "The family Boll, and fo Er: e the Hé now considers returning to the em ploy of Noerkard & Company, operators tn estate, Austin Gerard discusses with Captain Selwyn nd pass the Cap fe overcome, ur children, Selwyn Eileen ride together in's former Wife, Allxe, CHAPTER II. (Continued. A Dream Inds. UNCHEON had not been served I when they returned, Without Iin- gering on the landing as usual, they exchanged a formal word or two, then Eileen mounted to her own quarters and Selwyn walked nervously through jhe Ilbrary, whera he saw Nina evidently prepared for some mid-day festivity, tor she wore hat and furs, and the brougham was outside, ~ “6h, Phil," she eald, “Elleen prob- ably forgot that I was going out; it's a Mrectors' luncheon at the exchange. Please tell Eileen that I can't walt for her; where is she?” “Dressing, I suppose, Nina, I'— “One moment, dear, I promised the , Children that you would lunch with them in the nursery, Do you mind? I id it to keep them quiet; I was ‘weak enough to compromise between a | fox bunt or fudge; so I sald you'd Junch with them. Wil) you? } Certainly, © © © And. Nina—what , Mert of a man le thle George Fane?’ + of “Yes—the ohiniess gentleman with gentle brown and protruding eyes and the expression of a tame brontoseu- rus.” “Why—how do you mean, Phil? What | sort of man? He's a banker. He {en't very pretty, but he's popular,” “Ou, popular!” he nodded, ag close to a sneer as he could ever got, “He has a very popular wife, too; | haven't you met Rosamund? People Uke him; he's about everywhere—very useful, very devoted to pretty womens but I'm really in a hurry, Phil, Won't you please explain couldn't walt? You and she were al- 1ost an hour late. Now I must pick |up my skirts and fly, or there'll be some indignant dowagers downtown. Good-by, dear. * © © And * * ® don't (let the children eat too fast! Make | Drina take thirty-six chews to every | bite; and Winthrop 1s to have no bread |if he has potatoes'’—Her volce dwindled and died away through the hall; the front door clanged. He went to his quarters, drove out Austin's man, arranged his own fresh Mnen, took a sulky plunge; and, an un- |liztuted cigarette between his teeth, completed his dressing in sullen intro- spection. When he hed tied his scarf and bitten his cigarette to pleces, he paced the room once or twice, squared his shoul- | ders, breathed deeply, and, unbending his eyebrows, walked off to the nur- sery. “Hello, you kids!" he sald, with an effort, ‘I've come to luncheon, Very nice of you to want me, Drina.” “T wanted you, tool” said Billy; “I'm to alt beside youl ‘Wo om 4)" ebnerved Dring, gushing to Bileen that I} Winthrop out of the chair and sliding in close to Selwyn. She had the cat, | Kit-Ki, in her arms, Kit-Ki, divining | nourtshment, was purring loudly. Josephine and Clemence, in pinafores | and atickout skirts, sat wriggling with | Winthrop between them; the five dogs gat In a row behind; Katle and Bridget assumed the functions of Hibernian Hebes; and luncheon began with a clat- ter of spoons, It being also the children's dinner— supper and bed occurring from five to six—meat figuted on the card, and Kit- Ki's purring increased to an ecstatic as she stood up on Drina's lap, was constantly brushing Selwyn's features. ‘The cat {s shedding, too," he re- marked, ag he dodged her caudal ap- pendage for the twentieth time; ‘it will go in with the next spoonful, Drina, if you're not careful about open- ing your mouth,” "I love Kit-Kl,"" sald Drina, plactdly. “T have written a poem to her—where is {t?—hand {t to me, Bridget.” And, laying down her fork and cross- ing her bare legs under the table, Drina took breath and read rapidly; oqyLINES TO MY CAT. y Do T love Kit-Kl | And run after | Her with laughter fur Why do I know That Kit-Ki loves me so? I know it if Her tall stands up atift And she degulles Me with smiles”— “Huh!” said Billy, “oats don’t smile!” and wheezy squeal, and her rigid tall, | a TSE YO “They do. When they look pleasan they emile,” sald Drina, and continued reading trom her own work: “Be kind in all You say and, do For God made Kit-K! The same as you. Xoura truly ALEXANDRINA GERARD,” Bhe looked doubtfully at Selywn, ‘Is {t all right to sign a poem? I belleve that posts sign their works, don’t they, Uncle Philip?” “Certainly. ‘Drina, I'll give you a dol- lar for that poem, “You may have {t, anyway,” sald Drina, generously; and, as an afte thought: "My birthday 4s next Wednes- “What a hint!” Jeered Billy, casting @ morsel at the dogs. “It isn't a hint. It had nothing to do with my poem, and I'll write you several more, Uncle Phillp,” protested the child, cuddling against him, spoon in hand, and inadvertently decorating his sleeve with cranberry sauce. Cat hairs and. cranberry are a great deal for a man to endure, but he gave Drina a reassuring hug and a whisper, and leaned back to remove traces of the affectionate encounter just as Miss | Erroll entered. “Oh, Pileen! Elleen!” cried the chil- dren; ‘are you coming to luncheon with us?” As Selwyn rose, she nodded, amused. “I am rather hurt," she sald. ‘I went jown to luncheon, but as soon as I heard where you all were I marched straight up here to demand the reason of my ostracism.” “We thought you mother," explained about for a chair, Selwyn brought it. “I was commis- sloned to say that Nina couldn't walt— dowagers and cakes and all that, you ‘now, Won't you ait down? it's rather had gone with Drina, looking messy and the cat is the guest of hon- or," “We have three guests of honor, said Drina; “you, Eileen, and Kit-K! Uncle Philip, mother has forbidden me to speak of it, so I shall tell her and be punished—but wouldn't it be splendid {f Aunt Allxe were only here with ue?" Selwyn turned sharply, every atom of color gone; and the child smiled up at him, “Wouldn't it?” she pleaded. he said, so quietly that some- thing silenced the child. And Eileen, igiving ostentatious and undivided atten- tion to the dogs, was now enveloped by snooping eager muzzles and frantically wagging talls. “My lap is full of pawal" she ex- iClaimed; ‘take them away Katle! And joh!—my gown, my gown!—Billy, stop | waving your tumbler around my face! jit you spill that milk on me I shall jask your Uncle Philip to put you In the guarnd-hou la “You're going to bolo us, aren't you, Uncle Philip?’ inquired Billy. "Its my turn to be killed, you remember’’— “I have an {dea,” aald Selwyn, “that Miss Erroll is going to play for you to sing.” They liked that. were musically Pleased them better than to lift their volces in unison, Besides, it always distressed Kit-Ki, and they never tired laughing to see the unhappy cat re- treat before the first minor chord struck on the plano. More than that, the dogs always protested, noses pointed heaven- ward. It meant noise, which was al- ways welcome in any form. ‘Will you play, Miss Errolit’ The Infant Gerards Pa Selwyn, Inclined, and nothing| UNGER SET -- Miss Erroll would play, “Why do you always call her ‘Miss Erroll?'" asked Billy, “Why don't you | suy ‘Elleen? ” | | Selwyn laughed, “I don't know, Billy; | ask her; perhaps she knows.” Elleen laughed, too, delicately embar-| rassed and aware of his teasing smile.| But Drina, always Impressed by for-| mality, said: “Uucle Philip isn't Eil- jeon's uncle. People who are not rela- jtions say Miss and Mrs. re faver and muvver relations?” asked Josephine ¢imidly, "Y-es—no!—I don't know," Drina; “are they, Eileen?” | “Why, yes—that Is—that ts to say’ | And turning to Selwyn: “What dread- ful questions, Are they relations, Cape. Selwyn? Of course they are!" | “They were not before they were | married,” he sald, laughing. “If you married Eileen,” began Billy, ‘ou'd call her Eileen, I suppose,” “Certainly,” said Selwyn, “Why don't you | ‘That 1s another thing you must ask | her, my gon.” “Well, then, Efleen'"— But Miss Erroll was already seated | at the nursery piano, and his demands were drowned !n a decisive chord which | brought the children olustering around her, while their nurses ran among them | untying bibs and scrubbing faces and fingers in fresh water, | ‘They eang like seraphs, grouped | | around the plano, fingers linked behind thelr backs. First tt was “The Vicar of Bray.” Then—and the cat fled at | the firs chord—'‘Lochleven Castle: rat off, put off, Bib Ee i ct a sn ot at admitted | | satistaction, By Robert W. Chambers, Author of ‘'Vhe Firing Line” and ‘A Fighting Chance.” Miles Erroll sang, too; her voice lead- ; you know!” ing—a charmingly t2rained but childlike| ‘Yes, but here comes another! Fire!” volce, of no pretensions, as fresh and | shouted Billy, “Save the flag! Hun unspolled as the girl herself. |rah! Pound on the plano, Elleen, and There was an interval after ‘Castles pretend {t's cannon.” in the Alr;” Efleen sat, with her mar- | Chord after chord reverberated through vellously whlte hands resting on the |the big sunny room, punctuated by all keys, awaiting further suggestion. |the cavalry music she had picked up. ‘Sing that funny song, Uncle Philip!” |from West Point and her friends in pleaded Billy; ‘you know—the one | the squadron, about: | “She hit him with a ehingle | Whit made his breeches tingle | Because ‘he pinoned his ttle baby brother: | | “We can't «et 'em up! We can't get ‘em up! We can't get ‘em up In the morning,”* she sang, calmly watching the progress Jof the battle, until Selwyn disengaged [himself from melee and sank breathlessly {nto a chair, “All ove But you taught {t to me’— | combat, Eileen swung around on the plano | Banner,’ stool, but Selwyn had selzed Billy and | “Boom was promising to bolo him as goon aa | 6ur he wished. BY And Eileen, surveying the scene from § her perch, thought that Selwyn's years Seemed to depend entirely upon his oc- And he ran down the lang With his pants ¢ paln, Oh. @ boy'e best friend Is his mother!” “Billy!” gasped Miss Erroll Selwyn, mortified, sald severely: 1s @ very dreadful song, | the he sal Play {ss Erroll.” declining further @ Star-Spangled crashed the chord for the gun; then she played the un- Selwyn rosa and the childver od up at salute The party was over, Sel iss Er yn and cupation, for he looked very boytsh | gether out of the nursery and down the down there on his knees among the | stairs, fol! unconsclously into the amt- ohildren; and she had not yet forgot- (able exchange of badinage again; sho ten the sunken pallor of his features | taunting him with undignified De in the park—no, nor her own question | havior, he retorting in kind, to him, stil unanswered. For she had | “Anyway, that was a perfectly dread- asked him who that woman was who ful verse you taught Billy,” she con- had been so direct in her smiling salute. | cluded Amd he had not yet replied; probably | “Not as dreadful as the chorus,” he never would; for she did not expect to | remarked, wincing. ask him again, "You're exactly Itke & bad smal! boy, Meanwhile the bolo-men were rushing the outposts to the outposts’ Intense Ca 80 sheeptsh. |to avoid admonition ng-bang!"’ repeated Winthrop; “I | fashien.” bit you. Uncle Philip, You are dead (To Be Continued.) . r twyn; you look like one now— I've seen Gerald atiempt in exactly that SS