The Sunday Oregonian. (Portland, Ore.) 1881-current, May 31, 1908, Magazine Section, Page 2, Image 50

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

    THE SUNDAY OREGOXIAN, PORTLAND, MAY 31, 1908.
Si
H A
01ft
2
i
hy
BT LEONE CASS BAER.
WHY is It, when men and women
are such curiosities, singly or in
groups, celibate or wise, should
circus men at such expense and outlay of
time and truth, stock up with the "great
est aggregation of. living animals ever
gathered under one tent" when their
fellow creatures would be an even richer
exhibition?
But think as; long as t can, and as,
industriously "as my cogitation-tank
will permit, no solution ever comes to
the vexatious question, so I turn 'it
over to some Elbertus Hubbardus 'or
Mary Complaln-Phllosopher, while I
sit in my retreat on th bridge and
watch the crowd go by. .
Such a nice 'place It is in which to
view my fellow-creatures," and sea
them under stress of hurry and hunger
after work Is over and the great mass
of people,, rich and poor, plebeian and
aristocrat, wend their way over the
Morrison-street bridge.
I see you, John Henry, scurrying
alone like a scared rabbit, whispering
to yourself; a roll of meat, oozing
Juicily through Its wrapper, tucked un
der your arm. I just know you are
late for dinner you look like It and
I can almost hear you rehearsing your
carefully composed excuses. Chances
are there's company come to feed, and
the -soup and entrees (that's French
Nina, and means peas and beans and
spuds and macaroni, and good solid
grub before the nlcknacks are brought
on), are all getting cold and clammy
with poor . John Henry and his steak
two miles away, walking home to save
carfare.
Our old fourth readers contained
maxims in plenty, and stories with
plainly pointed out .morals, for the
guidance of those who tarry. Always
the boy who loitered on his way home,
'just missed seeing his dear unknown
millionaire uncle, who, having only an
hour to stop, could wait no longer, and
hnd set sail for his foreign home, while
Willie Played marbles in the dujty
road. Always the girl who lingered
lnng on the way home from school or
an errand, found that dear Aunt Nellie
had called during her protracted ab
sence and being unable to wait for
such a laggard, had taken sister Lizzie
home with her for a long visit.
Dire and unforseen things always
happened to loiterers in our fourth
readers; they missed meals and pleas
ure trips, and in one very Impressive
story I remember that Artie's pa and
ma sailed for India from somewhere In
the middle west. In answer to an ur
gent telegram and poor Artie, linger
ing in the dusky, sweet-smelling road
way, was only vouchsafed a 'vave of
two handkerchiefs as his parents de
, parted behind old Dobbin In a cloud of
dust, and the carryall.
Today, John Henrys and Amanda
Catherine beyond counting, leisurely
wend their way homeward U un
mindful of the precepts and morals
taught in the long ago.
Sometimes, bowevor, retribution
awaits the tardy one In the form of a
dear Marie (with Ideas of her own)
anent cold suppers or an Irate hus
iff
, Percy and May me.
NEWSBOYS WITH VENTILATOR TROUSERS.
T 1-
band, with original thinks relative to
no supper and a shopping wife.
,
And always there is a prolific female.
Sometimes she just passes my retreat,
sailing majestically along, like a ship
in full sail, and, to follow Out the meta
phor, bearing heavily - along, with her
progeny In tow. She Is usually . trun
dling a cart of the collapsible now-you-see-it,
now-you-don't-see-It variety,
wherein is crowded a raffia shopping-bag
filled to overflowing, several bundles of
assorted sires and color scheme, an um
brella, two bottles, a pillow and extra
wraps and rubbers for the whole bunch.
If the baby Is over 16 months old, he
usually, toddles along ahead of the
buggy, tp the wondering horror of sun
dry Unmarried damsels, who can't see
what his, mother is thinking of, and at
the Imminent risk of life and limb his
own and, other pedestrians'. The other
children, like all young lively animals,
are now : In front, now lagging far be
hind and anon crowding up like an In
fantry, i When they walk ahead, their
mother surveys them complacently and
only raises her voice to tell them not to
go "too fast, and to be careful of the
baby." When they fall behind she walks
backward, still busily pushing the. buggy,
while people scatter before it as before
a holocaust, and calls for her offspring
to get a move on 'em. Sometimes they
favor me with a fleeting visit and eye
me askance as their mother seats her
self to hurse the baby. Always she
searches ;wildly through The heterogenous
collection In the buggy and valise before
she finds the bottle and resurrects it
triumphantly. And If the baby Is very
young, his feed becomes a matter of per
sonal supervision to us all, and we
watch htm tug and wrestle before he
finally gets it poked Into the front of
his face.I All the other children Indus
triously shell peanuts and eat them
with gusto.
(No, George, gusto Is not anything eat
able; it , is just a term that is over
worked whenever anybody else eats like
a porker.)
Did you ever see a healthy, natural
child eat peanuts and not scatter the
shells all over everything In his Imme
diate vicinity?. Alt my bridge friends
scatter their shells just so; Sometimes
a banana is the motlt. (You see that word
only on the society page, but It works In
well here, doesn't It?). When a banana
or orange or apple is the center of In
terest, It is always peeled to nakedness
and divided In exact portions among the.
owners. j If there's a fractional differ
ence between any two pieces, that fact
is immediately made known in a rising
crescendo. Susie's petticoat always sags
in front and her mother's trails unhap
pily at the back, Frankie's hair and nose
invariably need attention and every roan,
woman or child passing excites audible
comments and grimaces from the small
audience, while the maternal ancestor,
with red, pudgy hands folded about her
nursing, sniffling atom of babydom sits
calmly accepting her conjugal destiny.
-!
Always there Is the girl In the extreme
ly short skirt, whom nature has blessed
with pretty' feet and twigs (that's polite
for limbs). She Is always neat and natty
and wears her clean shirtwaist (which
she probably made and washed and
Ironed In her 2x4 room and which looks
as good as Madame Yucatan's at $6 per
shot), with tho air of a really truly
aotress. Bhe wears her dozen bracelets
and kid - gloves as one to the manner
born.
Mrs. Mllllonplunks rides past in her
own automobile and bestows 57 varieties
of scornful and questioning accusing looks
on the short-skirted damsel.. (Yes; It is
bad form. Mabel, for some women to wear
short skirts.) Mrs. Mllllonplunks talks
and looks volumes on the impropriety of
dress, but tonight she goes to a charity
ball and will strip her heaving shoulders
and puffed red arms, and with 17 yards of
spangled lace (just home from the clean
ers) about her feet and a priceless dia
mond tiara and dog collar, she will dance
till woru out for sweet charity's sake.
Verily, verily charity, like debt, covers
a multitude of sins..
Just prior to election time I grew to
know the faces of the candidates quite
well, 'spite of the charming and pleasing
portraits in the papers. They always
ilSS lVI
l an" t'&S v- t' . r,gr nJmjh
i- - - - K-M JZc l-,.yw,w2f v
walked home with John Henry and Pete
Miggins and the rest of the gang laugh
ing at every joke, fraternally bailing
every man and assuming a near-brotherly
love that was beautiful but suspicious.
Now Pete and the rest of the gang walk
home alone.
Kagged and unkempt imps of newsboys,
with ventilator trousers, run indiscrim
inately between the legs of man and
beast, howling and yelling high to heaven,
their precocious wisdom concerning the
last murder development or social scan
dal. They dodge under carts, hike across
the' bridge, jump on and off moving ve
hicles and cars, always coming out safe
and sound, thriving and prospering In
spite of dirt and environment to turn up
some day, chances are, as a real rich
reporter on a big county paper or else a
millionaire retired advertising solicitor.
Here goes my Fluffy Ruffles damsel
(yes, George, there's another way to
spell damsel) with rainbow-tinted silk be
ruffled petticoats peeping from beneath
the precise folds of a natty imported walk
ing suit. She has 17 yards, more or less
of green and mauve tulle wound around a
five-acre Merry Grass-widow hat and
draped a la portiere over the front of her
head.
She certainly looks picturesque, with her
wide klmono-like sleeves, her tight pumps
and her band-box manner. "This seasonal
wave of folly," says I to myself, "must
send Its ripples farther than the rich
alone." Directly, as If in reply, along
ambled a barrel-shaped maiden with a
tawdry, wrinkled, and palpably made
from directions in the manual, "Every
Woman Her Own Seamstress," cheap imi
tation of the Parisian creation. Wound
abound her sunouraed fceeks were several
yards of coarse,, black veiling the ends
fluttering and flying In the breese like a
signal of distress. It. was a splendid bur
lesque, bnt let me assure you, the last
mentioned lady was far from regarding It
la such light.
Every day I See men who are as much
walking advertisements of their tailor's
latest concoctions and exaggerated fash
ions, as any foolish woman could be of
her dressmaker's ' or milliner's newest
fledged Insanity. The most idiotic wo
man who ever trailed a long-tailed gown
over a crossing or exhibited much, length
of limb in an abbreviated skirt, or hob
bled along a pavement on French heels,
knows full well that she can find a paral
lel for her silliness in the masculne side
of the question. If green hats are the
proper tiling, or freckled stockings and
neckties have Just come in style, or a
ruffled make-believe handkerchief like I
saw in a showcase on Morrison reminding
me of another clever contrivance for the
furthering of a fashionable gent's ward
robe, namely a circular flat disc, painted
to represent shirt fronts, six oreight fronts
of a "V" shape on each disc, the middle
to be attached to the shirt and the vest
lti. ''in it i--r'r-n n"i inrii fr" -S ii ' v rit ' MBf
to fit neatly about the outlines of each
painted bosom) if these, I hay, are the
thing, men, blind men, follow slavishly
Fashion's behest. Lids, coats, trousers,
are long-tailed or short, tight or loose,
colored, striped, plaid or plain as Fashion
decrees; and the pitiable part is that they
unseemlngly and unhesitatingly follow her
dictates, no matter whether the wearer
Is short or tall, thin or fat; whether his
outline is like an exclamation mark or a
period; whether he Is built like a tub or
a Joe Gans; whether he is princeiy and j
physically perfeot like a clerk, or just
measly namby-pamby dried-on-tbe-stem
looking like a bank president or a coal
baron.
Every day I see Percy, I feel sure his
name is Percy or Cyril, and that he
wore earmuffs and curls at 8, and never
forgot to wash 'his neck and wrists as
I say, I see him dully, as be crosses the
bridge. He is big. and near-athletic, with
padded shoulders and Immaculate clothes.
He looks just as if he had stepped out
of a swell haberdasher's window, a
Christy magazine picture and an adver
tisement of the International Correspon
dence School rolled into one interesting
whole. Once he walked home with his
mother. I knew it was she because she
called him son in the fondest terms;
she's a plain, little mouse of a woman
who obviously manufactures her bats and
dresses. (They are always hats and
dresses if they are home-made, other
Purely a Matter of Form.
to 'em as gowns
and
creations.)
The little woman trotted along beside i
her manly and awe-Inspiring offspring, I
who seemed afraid some one would recog- j
nlze him. Can't you just imagine how ;
he felt, poor fellow? Of course it would j
have been dreadful If the peroxide trim- j
mer or the gum-chewing cashier, his par- i
tlcular lady frens, had seen him. He
would have been compelled to Introduce
that shabby little creature to them as j
his mother. Gracious! wouldn't that be j
awful? Now if only his mother could I
'look like something, have some go and J
style, puff her hair and wear elbow
sleeves but somehow her skirts always
have a queer hang and her hat looks so
dinky and her ungloved hands are brown
and wrinkled. Hang it all, anyway; next
time he'll tell her he has some extra
work to do, and she can' go on alone.
Hope none of the bunch getB a look at
her.
He passes, most often, sandwiched in
between his two stunning lady frens
girls of the would-like-to-be-notlced
brand, whose automobile stride and
swagger remind me of nothing so much
as the painful mechanical jerks and
stilted movements of a tin man in a
wind-up toy. Both of them are walking
advertisements of straight-front corsets
and Madame Liarres can't-detect 'em
upholstering. I catch wandering bits of
conversation as they discuss heavy, deep
Intricacies as what Mayme is going to
wear at the next dance, what Lizzie's
traveling man friend wrote her, and he
tells them how awfully jealous all the
other clerks and the proprietors are of
himself. Not a day passes that I don't
meet several priests, fat, serene, and
with" perfect' good humored content "writ
large on their well-fed chops; even their
bodies shake like a mold of jelly as they
navigate along ' the straight and narrow
way.- (Yes, Lena, you are correct, that
thoroughfare is the only one that Is not
crowded.)
I meet, too, several sisters, with their
downcast eyes,' and pale, pure faces shin
ing cameo-like from out the sable duski
ness of their hooded garb. Every fiber
of my unfettered and unconventional
femininity cries out against such un
natural seclusion for a woman. One of
them, who most attracts me, I have
named my Sister Mariuccla; she has great
Madonna-like eyes and her- hands are
poems of grace. She took some of her
human feeling Into the convent walls and
Is not the cold statue she looks. But
no wonder they all look so calm and un
ruffled and sweet. They never have to
button their waists up the back, go
hungry in order to attain or retain a
semblance of sllmness, nor read the
comic supplements.
I repeat it no wonder they look se
rene. .
Hundreds of shopping women pass me
on the bridge, some scurrying rapidly
wise you refer
home with visions a hungry, waiting
family, some of them are smiling com
placently, as if In memory of the many
real bargains they got. While some still
bear, witness that the bargain race is
usually to the swift and athletic (I
firmly believe with you, Algernon, " that
the shopping mania will never be burned
out of women while .there Is a timber
left of her: Were there nothing but horse
blankets and sheep shears t on sale at a
bargain counter she would purchase them
If she had to throw '-em away the next
minute.) ' " '
' . '' . .
' Rosy little fat loves of children,
perched high on daddy's shoulder, peer
down laughingly at me as we meet and
pass on the bridge. Some of them have
such bright red' stockings and flossy
lapdog curls. I want to notice them
all but they hurry by so rapidly,
father In advance with his precious
burden ''held high In his arms, and
mother Jogging behind, all smiles and
conscious pride as she contemplates
the two beings, it is to bo hoped, she
loves best.
Processions of heavy carts, the
drivers lashing and yelling at thslr
nags, with loud cracks of whips, and
audible cracking-of chestnut jokes, as
they alow up for the draw to open.
Ever see a fat man. or a lean attenu
ated female pedestrian run to make
the draw before It opens? The sight
Is most Interesting, but disillusioning.
The draw always opens when you
are In a hurry to reach wherever you
set out for. If you have all day to
get there, or are going to the dentist,
or to pay a bill. Or to be married, the
fiendish draw ' works like a charm,
doesn't stay open, and your progress
is unimpeded.
The frantic bewilderment of the fel
low who is left on the draw as It
turns, his evident hesitation In jump
ing the rapidly widening gap, now
standing still, now leaping forward,
now running forward -In that agony
of indecision which is the best and
surest recipe for a batn in old Willam
ette is pitiful and amusing at the same
time.
But commend me to the girls who
walk home three abreast, arms en
twined, keeping step, and talking so
loud that all within a radius of a
block ,may overhear, just as If they
were not In a xlty, but back In their
native heath at Salem.
And the woman who walks one way
and looks in another direction. This
Is always diverting, especially If she
John Henry. -.
comes with her back towards you and
has her orbs fixed on something way
up the river or four blocks further up
the street back of her.
Then there Is the man " or woman
with the umbrella, who walks steadily
ahead In the middle of the walk,
sublimely unconscious of other um
brellas being lifted, lowered, tilted
and torn to get out ot his firm, onward
march.
Every day I meet an individual in a
sepulchral suit, shoes polished Immac
ulately, with a high hat and a stand-aslde-l-am-holler-than-thou
air. He
bestows keen, penetrating looks on
everyone he meets and If It is in
.. ' THE WOMAN WITH THE DOG.
tended to crush the sons of Belial, nuft
sed. He does It.
Poor devils of the unemployed
slouch past me on the bridge, somo of
them gazing moodily Into the dark,
treacherous waters swirling below us,
others, hands in pockets, staring ab
stractedly into space.
Agnes goes by, gaily humming, walk
ing with the doubtful grace of a Turk-
in
Lizzie's New Shoes Hurt Her Feet.
lsh lady and causing heads to turn, to
all of which she maintains a haughty
demeanor and goes on her way like a
"perfeot lady," to meet Waldo on the
corner. '
. Llllie goes past me, with the inevit
able and wornout butt of jokes a
peek-a-boo waist with enough pink
ribbon tied under its front to stock a
small notion counter, Lillle always
seems to be wearing new shoos, and
her nice thick ankles lop over the tops
of her yellow slippers. Us girls do
have a awful time, but we must be
stylish. '
Corpse to Be Changed to Gold.
Chicago Dispatch to., the New York
Herald.
According to a secret process which
Rlnehard D. Fuchs. Ben Brostowicz, and
John Hauth say they have invented, me
talized bodies may soon replace crema
tions and elaborate mausoleums. Those
who have hitherto adorned their boudoirs
with the burnt ashes of their departed
loved ones will be able to substitute the
entire bodies In gold and bronze statues.
Others who have found comfort In blue
ribboned canines and felines may like
wise, after the death of their pets, find
consolation in their life-size golden
Images.
All these things are the result of what
they declare is a wonderful invention
which has Just been perfected by the
three men mentioned, who until recently
have been engaged In a musical publica
tion house.
Mr. Fuchs said that within two weeks
he would metalize a human body which
would be placed on exhibition in a down
town store. By the secret process the
body would be molded into a statue
which In appearance would be of solid
gold. The cost of the conversion will be
about J100O, Including a preliminary em
balming process.
Why Don't They Enlist?
(Ambitious young- Americans will not fro
Into the Army these piping times at S16 a
month. Army Officer.
St. Louis Globe Democrat.
"What is the plumber tnakin' now?" said
Files-on -Parade.
"A dollar eighty-five an hour," the Color
Sergeant said:
"What is the scale f'r layin' brick?"
said Files-on-Parade;
"A cent a brick, a cent a brick," the
Color Sergeant said ;
"The carpenter Is makin' seven thirty
five a day;
A plasterer can scarcely carry all he
makes away;
A farmer gives a farm hand what he
wants If he will stay.
An' they're laughln at the soldier every
pay day."
"What's that a-vhlzzin' down the street?"
said Flles-on-Parade;
"A painter's car, a painter's car," the
Color Sergeant said.
"What's that above so high so high?"
said Files-on-Parade;
"A moulder flyin' his balloon," the Coloo
1 Sergeant said.
There is printers tourin' Europe, an' a-
loafln' on their yachts:
There is boiiermakers gamblln' in ex
pensive corner lots
There's machinists with their motor-boats
that's makin 30 knots.
An' they're laughln' at the soldier ev'ry
pay day."