The Bamberg herald. (Bamberg, S.C.) 1891-1972, November 06, 1919, Page 2, Image 2
BIG MEN AT POKER TABLE
!
Correspondent of Saturday Evening
Post Writes of Games in Which
Statesmen Figured.
Mr. Cleveland was fond?not over- ;
fond?of cards. He liked to play the !
noble game at, say, a dollar limit? j
even once and a while for a little more
?but not much more. A <1. as Dr. |
Norvin Green was wont to observe of ;
Commodore Vanderbilt, "He held them I
exceeding close to his bosom."
Mr. Whitney, secretary of the navy j
in his first administration, equally
rich and hospitable, had often "the
road gang," as a certain group, mainly
senators, was called, to dine, with the ;
Inevitable after-dinner soiree or j
seance. I was, when in Washington, ;
invited to these parties. At one of i
them I chanced to sit between the j
president and Senator Don Cameron. ,
Mr. Carlisle, at the time speaker of the
house?who handled his cards like
a chiivi end, as we all knew, couldn't
play a little?was seated on the opposite
side of the table.
After a while Mr. Cameron and 1
began bulling the game?I recall that
the limit was $5?that is, raising and
back-raising each other, and whoever
else happened to be in, without much
or any regard to the cards we held,
t It chanced on a deal that I picked
up a pat flush; Mr. Cleveland a pat
full. The Pennsylvania senator and I
went to the extreme, the president of
course, willing enough for us to play
his hand for him. But the speaker of
the house persistently stayed with us
and kept on.
We could not drive him out.
. When it came to a draw Senator
Cameron drew one card. Mr. Cleveland
.and I stood pat. But Mr. Carlisle
drew four cards. At length, after
much banter and betting, it reached
a showdown and, mirabile dictu, the
speaker held four kings!
"Take the money, Carlisle; take the
money," exclaimed the president. "If
ever I am president again you shall
be secretary of the treasury. But
don't you make that four-card draw
too often."
He was president again, and Mr.
, Carlisle was secretary of the treasury^-Saturday
Evening Post.
The Art of Reading.
The printing press has helped liberalize
and free the people from tyranny.
Books and magazines and
newspapers have done much to disseminate
knowledge and bring information
into the homes of the people.
They hare promoted the art of reading
and stimulated the desire to read
more.
* At the same time the very multitude
of books and periodicals has cul
tivated a desultory method of reading,
a desire to skim over everything
and digest little or nothing. - Classic
writings, the great books of history,
biography and fiction have in a measure
gone out of fashion. "Splid reading,"
as it i^ called, is not'often indulged
in, and the names of great
writers, whose productions will live
always, are unfamWiar to many of the
present generation.
The excuse is that we live in a very
rapid age, and there is no time to
read heavy literature. The reason is
that most persons have lost their
taste for history, for biography, for
good reading. They have partaken of ,
the froth for so long they have lost
the taste for the substantial.?New <
York Herald. i
- 1
* Dundee Honors Beatty.
The Lockit Book of the burgesses
of the city and royal burgh of Dun- {
.dee, Scotland, was opened the other
day, and to the names of high dis- '
tinction already inscribed thereia the {
name of Earl _Beattv was added, "in
recognition of his great services to !
the empire- and in testimony of the (
high esteem entertained by the citi- '
'2ens of Dundee for his distinguished
achievements in the service of the
state." Dundee received the distinguished
Admiral and Countess Heatty
with all the exuberant enthusiasm of 1
a city on the borders of the North sea, *
which was the theater of operations. 5
as it was the battle ground of the
. grand fleet. Earl Beatty spoke of the
rapidity and efficiency with which the
ship-repairing resources of Scotland
had been converted 10 the services of ^
the fleet, and paid a tribute to the
bravery of Scottish fishermen when .
acting as minesweepers. ,
Music to Quell Mobs.
There is an authentic story of a
daneerous sedition in Lacedemonia j
having been quelled by music; and ]
Boetius tells us of bands of rioters j
being dispersed on more than one ;
occasion by the playing of the mu- .
rician Damon when the troops and ^
civic authorities had proven powerless.
,
Imagine today in case of a mob out- <
break sending for a cellist or jazz i
outfit instead of calling out the na- (
tional guard; placing a battery of ,
trombones at strategic points instead
of a battery of machine guns. Yet
after all, it might not be such a bad i
Idea.?Chicago American.
Seems Like Extravagance.
Mrs. Styles?Is that a new silk hat <
you've got, Nicholas?
Mr. Styles?Yes, my dear.
wHow much did it cost?"
""Why, it was eight dollars, dear."
"What! Eight dollars, and not a
bird or a ribbon or a feather on it?"
The Reason.
"You don't seem inclined to embark
on the sea of life in a matrimonial
craft"
"Not I; it i? too mnch of a revenue
cutter."
===== I tt
CLOTHES
By PEARL B. MEYER.
ra ? *
Mrs. Drew mopped her eyes and
stuft'ed her limp handkerchief in her
apron pocket.
"I shan't shed another tear," she declared
firmly. "It's done, and all my
crying won't change things any." The
words had scarcely passed her lips before
the floodgates opened anew, and.
having no extra handkerchief on hand,
she was obliged to resort to a corner
of her apron.
"I don't wonder vou cry," sympathized
her neighbor, Mrs. Kent, rocking
violently back and forth in the
porch chair. "After you've worked
your fingers off for that boy, so he
could go to college ana nave Tilings
real fine?to have him turn around
and get married without saying a
word: it's too much."
"They'll be here tomorrow," sobbed
Mrs. Drew. . I haven't the heart to
bake a thing?and they've got to eat,
I suppose." she added tragically.
"Let the bride try her hand." sneered
Mrs. Kent. "He's got to get used to
her cooking sooner or later, anyway."
Mrs. Drew stiffened. "Let a stranger
come into my kitchen and mess around
with my pots and kettles?" She shook
her head energetically. "Besides, he
said she worked in an office. Probably
all she knows about cooking is how to
typewrite recipes."
"Clarence!" Mrs. Kent laughed
scornfully. "What do you expect of a
fellow who is so much in love that he
forgets to tell his ma when he gets
married? You wait and see; she'll
want to boss everything, and Clarence
will stand up for her. That's what
he'll do. You just wait."
At this dire nronhecv. Mrs. Drew',s
face disappeared completely in the
folds of her checked calico. "1 don't
know how I'm ever going to stand it,"
she wailed.v"There's
the expressman." cried Mrs.
Kent, with an eager start.
Her hostess lowered her apron.
"Clarence wrote she was sending some
of her things."
"Oh. really?" Mrs. Kent was all interest.
"He told me td unpack the box." As
she spoke, she walked hurriedly to the
steps to receive the package. Mechanically
she signed for it. The mere acceptance
of it appeared a disloyalty
to all the past years that had belonged
exclusively to Clarence and her.
Mrs. Kent snatched it. "Shall I open
it?" slve asked eagerly.
"Well?yes?no?I'll do it myself."
Mrs. Drew sat down and commenced
working at the knot.
"Cut it. cut it," snapped her caller,
impatiently.
"But the mother was thinking that
probably Clarence's hands had tied
that knot, and her fingers lingered
over it lovingly. Slowly she unfastened
the string, removed the heavy
wrapping paper, untied more knots
and at length loosened the cover.
Mrs. Drew glanced at the greedily
peering eyes, and for a moment her
hands hesitated. Then her longing for
sympathy overcame her scruples. She
let the cover slide to the floor.
"Well!" ejaculated Mrs. Kent.
The eyes of both women were fixed
on the neatly folded garments. Mrs.
Kent's hand flew out swiftly as if to
listurb them and explore further; but
a sudden change in her hostess' attitude
made her as quickly withdraw It.
"I think I'll go in," remarked Mrs.
Drew after a weighty pause. "You
come over again, Carrie."
There was no mistaking the import
of her words. Mrs. Kent's jaw
Jropped. She hurriedly arose.
"I clean forgot I had a cake baking,"
she exclaimed with remarkable presence
of mind; then added sourly, "I
hope you enjoy their visit."
Rut Mrs. Drew had passed into the
house. ignoring her. Upstairs in the
little white bedroom where Clarence
lad slept until he went to college, she
unpacked the box and laid its conen
ts. one piece after another, on the
siiowy counterpane.
"Just like what 1 used to have," she
whispered. "No silk nonsense?just
cotton like mine."
She shook out a white dress, smoothing
its folds. "I declare?she must
have made it herself. The lining looks
rhat way. I'll (have to show her how
it ought to be done. Why. bless my
heart, here's a real calico apron?and
another?great big ones." She gave
i little choking laugh.
Piece after piece was lifted from the
t)ox, each receiving a welcoming comment.
"Well, well, if she hasn't packed
in some of Clarence's socks. And
they're darned. Now that's fine. Not
ei hole left and done as neat as you
please."
Mrs. Drew's face had grown brighter
and brighter. At length, her task,
completed, she stood back to view the
result. The whole room, that haven of
dear memories, had taken on a different
aspect. The new personality
seemed already to have left an impress.
A strangely sweet charm radiated
from the neatly spread clothing
on the white bed. Her eyes
caressed their fresh daintiness. Then
she recalled Mrs. Kent's greedy curiosity.
"I guess it's none of her business
what Clarence's wife chooses to wear,"
muttered Mrs. Drew with sudden indignation.
She returned to the bed and passed
her hands gently over the folds of the
white dress. All the rancor, all the
deep hurt in her heart melted away.
"Clarence said she had no mother,"
she whispered; then, after a long
pause, *'1 always wanted a daughter."
(Copyright, 1319, McClure Newspaper Syndicate.)
& =gl
PRINCE AND PUPPY
By CHRISTINE HAYES.
*
"O?oh Auntie Vic! We've got a
puppy! We've got a puppy!".
This greeting was shouted in singsong
and reached Victoria Reed a full
five seconds before the twine did.
"He has the cunningest little nose!"
As always with Zaidee when excited,
the last word came in a clear and
astonishing high "g."
"But his skin's too loose," confided
Dorothy, sadly.
"Oh. that's all right," laughed Auntie
Vic, adding, as Dorothy's dark eyes
still doubted. "He'll grow to fit it; you
wait and see."
When Victoria had kissed the twins
and petted the puppy and rescued the
skirt of her new tweed suit from his
unuiscrnninaung leeui, sue mquncu.
"Where's your mother?"
"Gone to a party. She left a note
for you. It's on the hall table."
"Go get it, Zaidee," Dorothy suggested.
Victoria opened the note carelessly.
which read:
"Sorry I can't be here, dear. Make
yourself at home. Olie will give you
some lunch. See you soon. /M. C/s
in town."
Victoria gave a little breathless, involuntary,
"Oh!" and her face grew
as white as a healthy coat of tan
would let it.
"What's the matter?" chorused the
twins. ' ?
"Xot a thing, sugar angels," replied
their appallingly untruthful aunt, "except
I'm as hungry as a couple of
bears."
"If she was so awful hungry," Zaidee
wanted to know, when the adored
young aunt had gone to change her
dress, "if she was so awful hungry,
Dots, why didn't she eat anything?"
i But that, so far as Dots was concerned,
seemed destined to remain a
mystery.
Meanwhile, Victoria, donning a ruffled
blue voile, hummed a popular
song. That didn't seem to go so very
well, but she caught herself singing
something she had not meant to sing
and estopped abruptly. It seemed she
couldn't get away from Mark Crane
if she tried; even his silly song possessed
her.
Oh, well, she shrugged, his being In
the same town needn't make any difference
to her. She hoped, of course,
that she wouldn't meet him, but if she
did?well, what of that? She wouldn't
admit she was sorry until Mark gave
in, and she knew Mark well enough to !
know that he never, never would give
in till she showed that she was sorry.
So there it was?a vicious circle.
She didn't care, anyway. Not a bit.
She cried a little then and there just
to prove it.
"She does weigh more than two
squirrels!" Shrill altercation from below
interrupted the current of her
thoughts. Left to themselves in the
heat of debate, the twins were apt to
scratch and pull each other's hair with
a fury calculated to set the neighbors
a-speculating on the Darwinian theory.
Victoria hurried down.
"Don't you weigh more than two
squirrels, Auntie Vic?" demanded Zaidee,
passionately.
"Well," reasoned Dorothy, "we asked
mother how much she weighed and
she said as much as a horse and two
squirrels and a monkey, and you can
see for yourself that If mother
wpichs?"
Victoria laughed helplessly at her
plump sister's subterfuge to keep the
entire neighborhood from knowing her
exact weight.
i "Where's the puppy?" she asked.
This diversion proved more than successful,
for the puppy was in fact,
missing.
"And only yesterday," Zaidee mourn-,
ed, "he chewed up my little live duck."
Her aunt stared aghast. "Well, anyway,"
she qualified, "I pretended it
was alive.''
After a futile search, it developed
that Rus, the grocer's boy, had seen a
small yellow dog?"Yes'm, down the
street a little ways." So Auntie Vic,
with a doleful twin clinging to each
hand, set out in the direction indicated.
They came upon the puppy sitting in
front of a dry goods store "looking sor
ry" as Dorothy put it. "Oh. look!"
she shrieked, delightedly, "he's waving
his ear at us!"
He gave them an unquestionably enthusiastic
reception, and as Victoria
stooped to pat him, his awkward, eager
paw caught in the slender gold chain
about her neck. The chain broke and
the locket it had suspended spun into
the gutter.
"Permit ine," it was Mark Crane
who stood, stiffly courteous, holding
out her locket to her. A bit of paper
escaped from it and fluttered to the
sidewalk. As Mark stooped to recover
that also, he read on it in Victoria's
handwriting. "Prince of Dreams." In
picking it up he shamelessly flipped it
over with his nail?the photographed
face was his own!
"Th-thank you," said Victoria, in f.
voice not much louder than the one
with which conscience is credited.
Their eyes met, and Mark grinned?
a little-bov grin, taunting, complacent,
but very, very happy. It was as if he
had said a number of things?things
like "Ya-a-h! you had to give in!" and
"I knew you couldn't get along without
me, Smarty!" Which, had Victoria
loved him less, would have been suffi- j
cient kindling for a supplementary!
quarrel. '
But, loving him. she knew the grin
held much of wistfulness, and that
there was significance in the proprietary
air with which he said carelessly,
"Come on, pup I"
(Copyright, 1319, McClure Newspaper Syndicate.)
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