T
10
THE StTNDAY OREGOXIAX, PORTLAND, MAY 10, 1903.
IN WHICH HE HANDS OUT A LITTLE DOPE ABOUT THE ANVIL CHORUS BY JIM NASIUM
ELL. what ill it you think ot
the game today?" asked a fan.
as the OKI Sport hutted Into
the fanning bee in the hotel corridor.
"The boys were up against It today
like a guy with the prickly heat In a
woolen undershirt." replied the Old
Sport, "but they fought from Ret-away
to taper And let me tell you that's more
than you 'guys up in the stands can say.
That bunch of knockers out at the
ground today had a yellow streak run
ning through It that would make the
Comstoek lode look like a basting thread.
If I asked you fellows what you despised
worse than anything else in sports, I'll
gamble that you'd every blamed one
agree that It was a quitter. Yet you
guys will crawl Into the stands at a ball
game and root your heads off till the'
visiting team gets a lead, then you run
up the white rag and quit like a bunch
of Chlla chewing Greasers. Simply be
cause the other fellows got a lead at the
get-awny today, you guys made about
a.s much noise as a game of whist at
the deaf and dumb asylum."
"But there was nothing to root for,"
said the fan.
"Nothing to root for?" asked the Old
Sport, "Look here, let me hand you a
tip. It takes a mighty poor brand of
a sport to be a good and cheerful win
ner. Any dub can turn handsprings and
yell his head off when things are com
ing his way, but the only .guy who i
north wasting breath to- talk about is
the sport who. when he is getting it put
all over him. can crawl up onto his hind
lips like our worthy sport of an an
cestor. John Paul Jones, and yell, "We
haven't begun to tight yet.'
"Yes, sir, it was the sporting blood In
Paul Jones' veins that brought home the
bacon after he'd had the eternal day
lights knocked out of him in the Eng
lish Channel, and it was the sporting
blood in old George Washington's veins
that pulled his army through a Winter
of living on boiled bootlegs at Valley
Forge and sent them out In the Spring
to put the British down for- the count,
w-hile the whole country was roasting
him and paying he hadn't a chance In
the world. Just like the gab you fellows
In the stands hand out at a ball game.
They were sports who didn't know when
they were licked, and let me tell you
that if those guys had had a yellow
streak running along their spinal col
umn like the one that decorates your
dorsal fins, you guys would be running
around today with a monocle Wtrking
In your face and there never would have
been a Star-Spangled Banner or a game
of baseball.
"And that's the kind of sporting blood
It takes to come up from behind and
pull a game out of the fire in the face
of the roasting that the quitters In the
stands hand out to the players the min
ute the other fellows get a lead on them.
You can take It from me, that if there
was a bigger display of this fighting
spirit up in the 'Rooters' Row' and less
yellow splatches there would be a blamed
sight more brackets hung up for the
home team. The crowd In the stands
has a thundering lot to do with winning
games for the home team, and they
can't do it by cutting loose with the
anvil chorus when a player fans with
the bases full or pulls off a stunt in the
field, and they can't do it by sitting in
SUPPOSE that the earliest thing
that happens anywhere Is the Lon
don dawn. In all my life, my
waking hours had never reached three
' o'clock A. M., from either direction, and
when, on the first morning after my
arrival in London, I was awakened at
that hour by a gently Intrusive daybreak,
I felt as if I had received a personal and
Intentional affront.
1 roue, and stalked to the window,
with an air ot haughty reproach. In
tending to close the shutters tightly
until a more seemly hour.
A.s there are only six window-shutters
in the whole city of London, it Is
not surprising that none of these was
attached to my window; but it really
didn't matter, for after reaching the
window that morning I never thought
of a shutter again until I returned to
America. " -'
My window, which was a large
French affair in three parts, looked out
upon Piccadilly. It opened on a small
stone-railed balcony, and as I looked
out three pigeons looked In. They
were of the fat and pompous kind and
they strutted along the railing with a
frankly sociable air, cocking their
heads pertly in an endeavor to draw
my attention to the glistening irides
cence of their neck-feathers.
I liked the pigeons, and I told them
so, but even better I liked the sight
. across the street.
Green Park at dawn is as solemnly
impressive as the Interior of Westmin
ster Abbey. The trees sway and quiver,
giving an occasional glitrpse of the
Clock Tower of Parliament House.
From the throats of myriad birds
comes a sound as of one blended twit
ter, and a strange, unreal radiance per
vades the whole scene. With the rap
idly Increasing daylight definlteness
ensues, and railings, benches, roadway,
fjjt
"He was quite as Interested."
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TflE - aPnRKa - ARE. -
discouraged silence when the other fel
lows get a lead either.
"What in thunder is the use of rooting
when the home team has things all their
own way? They don't need It then. The
time when you fellows up In the stands
can be of some earthly use is the very
time when you fall down hard. And
that is when the home team is down in
the rut and taking the other fellow's
dust. And let me tell you that's ' Just
why you see so many teams go to pieces
when they are on the wrong end of the
score, and play several notches below
their regular form. It isn't because they
aren't trying all the time, and it Isn't
bt-cause the other fellows have their
goat either. But it is because nine out
of every ten of the dubs up in the stands
and other - details of the Park add
strength to the picture.
Having seen three o'clock in Green
Park. I promptly forgot my errand
with the shutters, and, hastily donning
conventional morning costume, I pre
pared to watch four o'clock, and five,
and six appear from the same direc
tion. As outlines became clearer I noticed
a park bench directly opposite my win
dow, on which sat four old women.
All were garbed in black, and all were
sleeping soundly. I was then unaware
of the large proportion of the elderly
feminine in London's seamy side of
population, and so casual was tne as
pect of the quartet that it did not
occur to me that they were occupying
the oply earthly- home they possessed.
They seemed to me more like dupli
cate Mrs. Leeks and Mrs. Alesnines.
who had paused for a time in Green
Park instead of in mid-ocean.
But after I had seen the same women
there at three o'clock on a dozen con
secutive mornings I began to realize
that they were part of the landscape.
Nor was I unduly sorry for them.
They sat on that bench with the same
air of voluntary appropriation that
marked the birds in the trees, or the
pigeons on the railing. And as the
days went on I became accustomed to
seeing them there, and ceased to feel
any inclination to go out and try to
persuade them to enter an old ladles'
home.
At about seven o'clock the omni
buses began to ply. I had never known
before what was indicated by the verb
"to ply." But I saw at once that it is
the only word that properly expresses
the peculiar gait of an omnibus, which
Is a cross between a rolling lurch and
a lumbering wobble. Fascination is- a
mild term for the effect these things
had on me.
One omnibus might not so enthrall
me. I don't know; I have never seen
one omnibus alone. But the proces
sion of them along Piccadilly Is the one
thing on earth of which I cannot con
ceive myself becoming tired.
Their color, form, motion and sound
all partake of the primeval, and their
continuity of effect is eternal.
My Baedeker tells me that the first
omnibuses plying in London were
"much heavier. and clumsier than those
now in use." But of course this is a
mistake, for they couldn't have been.
I have heard that tucked away among
the gay-colored advertisements that are
patchworked all over these moving Mam
moth Caves are small and neatly-lettered
signs designating destinations.
I do not know this. I have never been
able to find them. But it doesn't mat
ter. To get to Hampstead Heath, you
take a Bovrll; to go to the city, take
Carter's Ink; and to get anywhere in
a hurry. Jump on a Horllck's Malted
Milk. There is also a graceful serpen
tine legend lettered on the back ' of
3 BY CAGINT "WELLS f
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ON-TtlENVlL;
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FLYINQ - WIT'u'fllEIR'aTINQS:
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7
are dled-in-the-wool quitters, to whom
the game is lost' the minute the other
fellows get a lead, and they cut loose
with the anvil chorus and hand out a
brand of gab that puts the team up In
the air, instead of plugging all the hard
er for a victory. If the players were as
yellow quitters as the fans are, baseball
wouldn't be worth a tinker's dam.
"I don't mean to say that every moth
er's son who goes to a ball game ought to
get up on his hind legs and yell for the
home team till he busts his larynx, but
I do say that a good motto for a good
sport is: "If you can't boost, don't
knock." And probably the next best
motto for the baseball public Is: 'The
game Isn't lost till the last man Is out.'
You can take my tip that the lack of
each 'bus, but as this usually says
"Liverpoo 1 Street," I think it can't
mean much.
. Personally, I never patronize one of
t'he things. They are too uncanny for
me, and their ways are more devious
than those of our Seventeenth street
horsecars.
Besides, I always feared that.-if I
got in or on one, I couldn't see the rest
of thera as a whole. And it is the un
broken continuity that, after the color
ing, is their greatest charm. I have
spent many hours watching the Picca
dilly procession of them, "like a
wounded snake drag its slow length
along," and look forward to many hours
more of the same delight. But the
dawn, the daybreak, and the early morn
ing slipped away, and all too soon my
first day In London had begun.
My mail brought me difficulties of
all sorts. There were invitations from
people, whom well-meaning mutual
friends had advised of my arrival.
There were offers from friends or
would-be friends to escort me about on
shopping or sight-seeing tours. There
were cards for functions of more or less
formality, and there were circulars
from tradesmen and professional peo
ple. With a Gordian-knot-cutting im
pulse, I tossed the whole collection into
my desk, and started out alone for a
morning walk.
Nor shall I ever forget that walk.
y(t? Mayfar'r n the
JJ J X- Fair Month o
W t ft Mr
r Crylr-r, , J PANCAKES L
""'..vvv- i m ,wmir' ' - .i'im Mil .
good sporting blood In the veins of the
home fans have lost pennants for many a
time.
"There's a lot of shallow-headed dubs
who seem to think that It's all right to
sit up in the grandstand and roast a
player because he can't slam out a hit
when It's needed .or go down in the dirt
and dig up every hot shot that comes his
way, but Just the same I'll gamble that
If you buys had to sit up In your office
and grind out your daily work while your
boss' customers were splattered around
through the Joint yelling Into your ears
that you were a 'fathead' and a 'lobster,'
and telling you that you ought to apply
for admission to the Old Women's Home,
It's a cinch bet that your work would go
on the punk a blamed sight worse than
Not only because it was a "first im
pression," but because it was the most
beautiful piece of pedestrianlsm that
ever fell to my lot.
My clubhouse home was almost at the
corner of Hamilton Place, and as I step
ped from its portal out Into Picadilly I
seemed to breathe the quintessence of
London, ( past, present, and to come.
Meterologically speaking, thq atmos
phere was perfect. The reputation for
fogginess, that London has somehow ac
quired, is a base libel. Its air Is marked
by a dazzling clearness of haze that,
more than anything else, "life's leaden
metal into gold transmutes."
Thus exhilarated at the start, I began
my stroll down Piccadilly, and at every
step I added to my glowing sense of
satisfied well-being. I turned north into
Berkeley street, and thus started on my
first sight-seeing tour. And was it not
well that I was by myself?
For the most kind and well-meaning
cicerone would probably have said, "Do
you want to see the house where Carlyle
died?"
And how embarrassed would I have
been to be obliged to make reply:
"No, not especially. But I do want to
see where Tomlinson gave up the ghost
in his house in Berkeley Square."
Nor would my guide have been able
to point out that perhaps mythical resi-dence-
But I had no trouble in finding
it. Unerring instinct guided me along
the ballplayers do. And let me tell you
that it would be just as reasonable for
them to do this as It is for you to patron
ize a ball game for the purpose of knock
ing the brand of work turned out.
"And I want to tell you fellows that the
guy who goes to the ballgrounds and plugs
for the home team as long as they are
making the pace, and then Joins the anvil
chorus when they begin to get their
bumps is the kind of a dub who Is your
best friend and hands you a pat on the
back and slobbers all over you while you
are living on the velvet and taking up
some room In the world, but as soon as
you hit the toboggan and go down for the
count he can't see you. And I'll gamble
that there Isn't many of you willing to ad
mit that you have any use for a guy like
i nil iii nmvrTmritTimTiT
Berkeley Square, till I reached what I felt
sure was the very house, and since I
was satisfied, what mattered it to any
one else?
This being accomplished, I next pro
ceeded In a desultory and Inconsequent
fashion to explore Mayfalr. "
Aided, like John Gey, by the goddess
Trivia, I knew I could
securely stray
When winding alleys lead the doubtful
way;
The silent court and opening square ex
plore. And long perplexing lanes untrod before.
And as I trod, I suddenly found myself
in Curzon street. This was a pleasant
sensation, for did I not well know the
name of Curzon street from all the Eng
lish novels I had ever read? Moreover,
I knew that in one of its houses Lord
Beaconsfleld died, and In another the
Duke of Marlborough lived. The detail
of knowing which house was which
possessed no interest for me.
I rambled on, marveling at the sudden
ness with which streets met each other,
and their calm disregard of all methed
or symmetry, till I began to feel like
"the crooked man who walked a crooked
mile."
Attracted by the name of Half-Moon
street. I left Curzon street for It. Shelley
once lived In this street, and I selected
three houses any one of which might
have been his home. I went back,
I traversed soma deliottf ul mewses (what
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ftvi inn vi'win
A WORN FT.
that. This old dump of a world can
plug along pretty blamed well without
that brand of loyalty.
"You can take it from me that the big
gest coward that ever pumped ozone into
his breathing bellows is the guy who will
hide himself in a mob of several thou
sand and throw the gaff Into a ballplayer
when he knows blamed well that the
player can't crawl over the railing and
pick him out of the throng for the pur
pose of leaving his imprint on his mug.
And now this year the baseball dads have
gone and shoved in a rule that places a
fine of $5 on a player who even opens
his face to a spectator. I'm not very
strong for this Scriptural dope about
turning the other side of your mug around
when you get a crack on the maxillarles.
is the plural of mews?), crossed Berkeley
Siuare, and then, somehow or other I
found myself In Bond s.reet, and my
mood changed.. At first the shops seemed
unattrativo nnH T felf d Irji onolnt men t
edging itself into my soul. -
But like an ugly woman, possessed ot
charm, the crammed-full windows began
to fascinate me, and I forgot the inade
quate sidewalks and unpretentious fa
cades in the absorbing displays of wares.
Bond street show windows are hypnotic
Fifth avenue windows stolidly hold their
exhibits up to one's view, without a trace
of invitation, but Bond-street windows
compel one to enter, by a sort of uncanny
influence Impossible to resist.
Though I expected to shop in London,
there was only one article that I was
really anxious to buy. This was a jado
cube. For many years I had longed for
a jade cube, and American experts had
contented themselves with stating there
no such thing in existence. Time after
time, I had begged friends who were go
ing to the ends of the earth to bring me
back a Jade cube from one of the ends,
but none had accomplished my errand.
I determined therefore to use every
effort to secure a jade cube for myself,
and forthwith began my quest.
A mineralogist on Bond stree showed
more interest at once than any of my
personal friends had ever evinced.
Though he declared there was no such
thing in existence, he further remarked
his entire willingness to cut one for me
from the best quality of Chinese jade.
He was quite as interested as I was my
self, and, though it seemed inartistic to
end bo quickly what I had expected to
be a long and difficult quest, I left the
order.
The cube turned out a perfect success.
and will always be one of my bearest and
best-beloved possessions. It has the same
charm of perfection that characterizes
a Japanese rock crystal ball, and the
added Interest of being unique. There
was, too, a charm in the interest shown
in the cube .by the old mineralogist, and
also by his wife.
The day I went after the completed
polished cube, the elderly madame came
into the shop from a back room, to con
gratulate me on the attainment of my
desire.
Incidentally, the good peopjle endeav
ored (and successfully) to persuade me
to buy further of their wares.
They had a bewildering assortment of
semi-precious stones, curios minerals, and
wrought metals and strange blts-of hand!
work from foreign countries. Beads, of
course, in profusion, and fascinating ugly
little Idols. As all these things have
great charm for me, and as I am always
easily persuaded to buy, I bought largely.
to the great satisfaction of the elderly
shopkeepers. But, as I had learned
little of their tricks and their manners
I offered them, a bit shamefacedly.
lower price in each instance than they
asked. To my relief, they took this pro
and I think that It would be a blamed
sight more like 'a square deal if they in
structed the umps to stop the game long
enough to allow the player to crawl into
the stand and hand the knocker what la
coming to him. You can take it from me
that this would put a hopple on the brand
of gab which a baseball gang turns loose,
and I have a hunch that the calico that Is
splattered around that vicinity would Just
about as soon see a knocker getting his
face moved around till it hung onto his
left ear as they would ,sit all afternoon
and have such phrases a.s 'mutt-head.'
Yummy' and a bunch of Indecent melody
poured Into their ears by a skinny shrimp
who would be kicked out of decent so
ciety in any other place the minute he
was discovered.
And you'll usually find, too. that these
guys know shout as much about base
ball, as a Fiji Islander does about table
etiquette. Their brains are so shriveled
up that they rattle when they walk like
a bunch of peas in a gourd. They don t
know enough about the game to get
wise to the fact that a team may be
playing a mighty nifty article of base-
bell and yet lose. There are only two
factors in baseball that penetrates the .
thick walls of their conning tower, and
that is the winners and the losers. The .
winners are playing good baseball and
the losers are a bunch of dubs. And let
me tell you that these bone-headed guys
often put the game on the hum wltn their
misguided applause, too. They yell their
heads off over the dub who plays to the
stands by holding back on a ball and
then racing up and spearing it with one
hook, while the good, reliable player who
plays everything safe and cuts out the
spectacular trimmings never bets a hand.
'You can take my tip tnat tne ap
plause of these bone-heads is the cause
of many good ballplayers going to the
bad. It is to get this merry mlt, which
is sweet music to the average player,
that you often see some guy out on
the lot holding back Just long enough
when a ball is hit so that he will have
to take it on the dead run, when the
sure player wno plays everyming saie,
would start with the crack of the bat
and make the play look easy. And it
is this playing to the bone-heads, too,
that causes a player to chase in on a
high bounder and go up In the atmos
phere to pull it down when it would
come right into his pocket if he played
it safe and met it right. These spec
tacular stunts and one-hand catches are
a showy piece of business when you get
away with them, but you can take it
from me that they don't win many pen
nants. The successful ballplayer Is just
the same sort of a guy as the success
ful business man; he is the guy who pulls
off every transaction in the easiest way
he can and plays it safe.
"So there you are. fellows; that's the
whole blamed business in a nutshell.
The trouble with you guys who are
kicking about today's game is that you
belong to that bunch of dubs who think
that every game that the home team
wins is a eood game and every game
that the home team loses Is rotten.
N"ow. if you just let this dope that I've
handed you soak Into the sponge cake In
J your belfry, and go out to the grounds
tomorrow ana plug tor tne Doys till tne
last man has got kibosh, you'll get a
run for your money, whether they win
or lose. Think it over, fellows. Good
night."
ceeding quite as a matter of course, and
cheerfully accepted the smaller sum with
out demur.
But to return to that first morning,
after my Interview with the mild-mannered
mineralogist 4 strolled along Old
Bond street back to Piccadilly.
The Tennyson's brook of omnibuses was
still going on, and I stood on the corner
to watch them again. From this point of
view the effect is quite different from
that seen from an upstairs window.
You cease to generalize about the pro
cession, and regard the individual 'bus
with a new awe.
The ocean may be wider, the Flatiron
building may be taller, but there's noth
ing In all the world so big as a London
omnibus.
The New Learning.
"Jersey Jingles" by Leonard H. Robins.
They taught him how to hemetlch, and they
taught him how to sing.
And how to make a basket out of varie
gated string.
And !iow to fold a paper so he wouldn't
hurt his thumb
They taught a lot to Bertie, but he
couldn't
do a
sum.
They taught him how to mold the head of
Hercules in clay. ,
And how to tell the difference 'twlxt the
bluebird and the Jay,
And how to sketch a horsle In a little pic
ture frame
But, strangely, they forgot to teach him
how to
spell his
name.
Now, Bertie's pa was crabbed, and he went,
one day to And
What 'twas they did to make his son so
backward in the mind.
"I don't went Bertie wrecked," he cried, In
temper far from cool.
"I want him educated!" So he
took him
out of
school.
Toused the whole collection Into my
desk.