10
THE SUNDAY OREC&XIAX. PORTLAND. JULY 26, 190S.
i
SBWELL BED
1
HP, TKnKjVT. KhfVb
SAT. for gettin' all the Joy that's
comin' to you, there's nothln' like
being a mixer. The man - who
travels In one class all the time misses a
lot. And I sure was mlxin' it when I
closes with Snick Butters and Sir Hunter
Twiggle all in the same day.
Snick had first place on the card. He
drifts into the studio early in the fore
noon, and when I sees the green patch
over the left eye I know's what's comin.
He's shy of a lamp on that side, you
know uses the kind you buy at the
store, when he's got it; and when he
ain't got it, he wants money.
I s'pofe if I was wise I'd scratched
Snick .off my list long ago; but knowln'
him is 'one of the luxuries I've kept up.
Tou know how it is with them old-time
friends you've kind of outgrown but hate
to chuck in the discards, even when they
work their touch as reg'lar as rent bills.
But Snick and me played on the same
block when we was kids, and there was
a time when I looked for Snick to be
boostin' me. 'stead of me boostin' him.
He's one of the near-smarts that you're
always expectln' to make a record, but
that never does. Bright lookin boy, neat
dresser, and all that, .but never stickin
ot oie thing long enough to make good.
Vou've seen 'em.
"Hello, Snick:" says I, as he levels the
e':rg!i barrel on me. "I see you've
pulled down the shade again. What's
happened to that memorial window of
yours, this time?" "
"Same eld thing," says he. "It's in at
Simpson's for five, and a bookie's got
the five."
"And now you want to negotiate a sec
ond mortgage, eh?" says I.
That was the case. He tells me his
newest Job is handlin' the Josh horn on
the front end of one of these Rube
wagons, and Just because the folks from
Keokuk and Painted Post said that
lookin' at the patch took their minds off
seeln' the skyscrapers, the boss told hira
he'd have to chuck it or get the run.
"He wouldn't come across with a five
In advance, either." says Snick. "How's
that for the granite heart?"
"It's like other tales of woe I've heard
you tell," says I, "and generally they
could be traced to your backin' three
kings or gettln' an inside tip on some
beanery skate."
"That's right," says he, "but never
again. I've quit the sportin' life for good.
Just the same, if I don't phow up on the
wagon for the 'leven- o'clock trip I'll be
turned loose. If you don't believe it.
Shorty, I'll"
"Ah, don't go callln' any notary pub
lics." says I. "Here's the V to take up
that ticket. But say. Snick, how many
times do I have to buy out that eye be
fore I get an equity in it?"
"It's your s now; honest it is," says he.
"If you say so, I'll write out a bill of
sale."
"No," says I, "your word goes. Do
you pass it?"
He said he did.
"Thanks." says I. "1 always have
thought that was a fine eye. and I'm
proud to own It. So long. Snick."
There's one good thing about Snick
Butters; after he's made his touch he
knows enough to fade; don't hang round
and rub It in, or give you .a chance to
wish you hadn't been so easy. It's
touch and go with him, and before I'd
got out the last of my remarks he was
on his way.
It wan't more'n half josh, though
MAKING THE MOVING
OCCASIONAL, visitors; to the local
moving picture theaters or other
entertainments where moving pic
tures are displayed are likely to be puz
zled at the costuming and settings of
many of the scenes. Regular patrons
are accustomed to iu and have learned
the fact that a very large proportion of
those which are shown in this country
are manufactured in France.
This fact, combined with the attempt
to design them for American audiences
sometimes leads to curious incongruities,
as when, in a railroad station or police
station distinctly French In character and
In the costumes worn, has all its signs
printed in English. The devotees of the
mo ing pictures quickly learn to over
look these incongruities, however, but Is
forced to the conclusion that the French
manufacturers are more imaginative and
skilful than their American competitors,
although some of the most thrilling of
the tilms, showing train robberies and
similar incidents supposed to be of the
wild West, have been made In New
Jersey.
In view of the freedom with which
French scenes are used some description
of the ingenuity shown in making them
and of the excellent stage management
and business-like precision with which
they are accomplished will be of interest.
The following account is translated from
the Paris Lectures pour Tous:
The scenes enacted upon the canvas
must, of course, be first enacted before
the apparatus. If their setting is the
streets of Paris, they are performed en
tire and au naturel in the open street
by actors suitably costumed and made
up.
To see how, let us visit a "cinema-,
hall." It is 7 in the morning; the entire
staff is already on hand, not a minute
the day is to be lost. The artists
emerge from their dressing: rooms cos
tumed and made up. .Make-up is as es
sential, for a play in the street as for
a play on the stage, so that the ex
pression of the faces, here oZ capital im
portance, shall lose none of its emphasis.
We join the actors as they climb into
the theater omnibus, ar.d. as we hurry
to the appointed place, the best stage
manager in Paris M. Etlenne Arnaut
gives the artists a last reading of the
scenario. The hero is flayed by a co
median from the Olympic.
In the first act he has received from
his wife a tremendous cuff in the face,
and now, with . a swollen cheek, he is
to ramble through Paris. Woe to them
that laugh at him! A troupe of clowns
in long coats and hit?h hats, a comedi
enne and an actor dressed up as a ven
der of new-spapers have come along to
play the parts of these luckless citizens.
The afflicted husband must dash into a
drug store for un gents to soothe his
burning cheek here is a well-lighted one
that just suits our purpose. We alight,
surrounded by W people who have run
Rfter our omnibus, attracted by the
strange appearance of our troupe; witn
the consent of the proprietor one of the
clowns goes behind the counter while the
biograph apparatus is being set up jn
the sidewalk. At a whistle from the
stage manHger the man with the swollen
cheok rushes- into the shop and the
clown roars with laughter. Zip! A blow
" sends him headlong. Exchange of cards.
First duel in prospect.
En route now for the next scene. At
the comer of a street in full sunshine,
a fountain. Perfect! The omnibus stops
and the maltreatedr-t'sband sets about
dashing wai-up on his cheek. A second
that I was givin' him about that phony
pane of his. It was a work of art, one
of the bright blue kind. As a general
thing you can always spot a bought eye
as far as you can see It, they're so set
and Btary. But Snick got his when he
was young and, bein' & cute kid, he had
learned how to use It so well that most
folks never knew the difference. He
could do about everything but see with it.
First off he'd trained It to keep pace
with the other, movin' "em together, like
they was natural; but whenever he want
ed to he could make the glass one stand
MS:
He Couldn't Help Being Dignified.
still and let the other roam around. He
always did that on Friday afternoons
when he got up to speak pieces in the
grammar school. And it was r.o trick
at all for him to look wall-eyed one
minute, cross-eyed the . next and then
straighten 'em out with a jerk of his
head. Maybe if it hadn't been for that
eye of Sniok's I'd have got further'n
the eighth grade.
His star performance, though, was
when he did a jugglln' act, keepin' three
potatoes In the air. He'd follow the
murphies with his good eye and turn
the other one on the audience, and If
you didn't know how it was done, it
would give you the creeps up and down
the back, just watchin" him.
Say, you'd thought a feller with talent
like that would have made a name for
himself, wouldn't you? Try in to be a
sport was where Snick fell down, though.
He had the blood all right, but no head.
Why, when we uped to play marbles for
keeps. Snick would never know when to
quit. He'd shoot away until he'd lost
his last alley, and then he'd pry out that
glass eye of his and chuak It In the ring
for another go. Many a time Snick's
gone home weaHn' a striped chiny or a
pink stony in place of the store eye, and
then his old lady would chase around
lookin' for the kid that had won it ofX'n
him. There's such a thing as beln too
good a loser; but you could never make
Snick see It.
Well, I'd marked up five to the bad on
my books and had read the latest from
clown goes by arm In arm with the
actress. They giggle. A blow hurls the
clown into the gutter. The clown has
executed his "cascade" with such fury
that he has burst his coat. More than
200 people, in windows, take the whole
thingseriously and roar with laughter.
By noon we have passed through two
arrondissements, raised rumpusses on
the terra sse of a cafe, in a public garden,
in three open squares, and in a dozen
streets; an hour later, at Raincy, under
the trees of a park where we get a
hilarious welcome, the hero ot this bur
lesque epic, refusing weapons for his
duels, knocks down the entire troupe of
clowns adversaries and seconds indis
criminatelyand leaves them in a heap,
brandishing their arms and legs in the
maddest confusion.
The play is completed. To record it,
600 feet of transparent ribbon have barely
sufficed . On each yard of that ribbon
more than E0 photographs have been
taken. When 'Le Ouel a la Gifle" is
presented upon the biograph screen 10.400
pictures will be shown within the space
of a few moments.
Not a day passes but one of these
street "rehearsals is the occasion of an
outlandist drama in which the crowd
plays a part. On -the 10th of February
au automobile halted In front of a boule
vard theater. A young woman alighted.
She wore an infinitesimal hat. Bravo
here was a lady who had mercy upon
playgoers,
Tet. at the door of the theater, her
valet de pied brought her a huge paper
box; she took out of it an Immense hat,
upon which all the flowers and feather
In creation mingled In a sort of crazy
grove. Seeing the miracle of audacity
the crcwd protested. It was more than
they could tolerate.
Then she pointed to the biograph ap
paratus, which was working only a? few
yards off; then she removed the "roof
garden" and gave it back to her ser
vant. This was the first scene of "La
Chapeau de Madame."
Next day, at Les Ternes, there came
near being trouble and narrow was the
actor's escape. About 9 o'clock in the
morning a strange scene formed in front
of the window of a novelties shop. A
shocking highwayman, with a scarf
about his neck and a long dagger stick
ing out of his pocket, was chatting In
the friendliest way in the world with two
policemen, who were offering him cigar
ettes. The indignant passers-by were on the
point of reporting this scandal to the
policemen's superiors when, notified by
a whistle the highwayman threw him
self down upon a piece of cloth; the
policemen rushed up. the bad man drew
his dagger. The crowd prepared to
knock him senseless, but the two officers
insisted nobody should strike their "com
rade," and then it was their turn to
be violently mauled by the scandalized
spectators.
The melee became general; the
"apache" and the "agents" were alike
belabored, when the brigadier de service
came up and the -whole gang was hustled
off to the station house, where matters
were at last made clear. Again a bio
graph "rehearsal !'
Real danger sometimes attends this
outdoor acting. Near London, several
months ago. a manager of biograph
plays got up a drama involving an at
tempt to derail the London and Brighton
express. The villaina, according to scen
ario, were discovered by an actor dressed
as an employe of the railway,- and tied
him down between the rails. Naturally,
while .the series of photographs were be
ing taken, the train was to stop for
a moment so that the aotox could have
t
Mr &
4 j fi
MiXDS IT W1TM SNICK BUTTERS AMD'
Tonopah, and then Swifty Joe and me
had worked an hour with a couple of
rockin chair commodores from the New
York Tacht Club, gettin 'em in shape
to answer Lipton's batch of Spring chal
lenges, when Pinckney blows in towin
a tubby, red-faced party In a frock coat
and a silk lid.
"Shorty," says he, "I want you to
know Sir Hunter Twiggle. Sir Hunter,
this is the Professor McCabe you've
heard about."
"If you heard it from Pinckney," says
I, "don't believe more'n half of it."
With that we swaps the grip, and he
says he's glad to meet up with me.
But say, he hadn't been In the shop
two minutes 'fore I was next to the fact
that he was another who'd Tiad to mate
up his lamps- with a specimen from the
glass counter.
"They must be runnin' in pairs," thinks
I. "This'd be a good time to draw to
three of a kind."
Course, I didn't mention it, but I
couldn't keep from watchin' how awk
ward he handled his'n, compared to the
smooth way Snick cotild do it. I guess
Pinckney must have spotted me comin'
the steady gaze, for pretty soon he gets
me one side and whispers1, ''Don't appear
to notice it."
"All right," says I; "I'll look at his
feet." i
"No, no," says Pinckney, "Just pretend
you haven't discovered it. He's very
sensitive on the subject thinks no one
knows, and so on."
"But it's as plain as a gold tooth,"
says I. ,
"I know," says Pinckney; "but humor
him. He's the right sort."
Pinckney wa'n't far off, either. For a
gent that acted as though he'd been born
wearln a high collor and a shiny hat, Sir
Twiggle wasn't so worse. Barrin' the
sttffenin. whii-h didn't wear off at all,
he was a decent kind of haltch eater.
Bein' dignified was something he couldn't
help. You'd never guessed, to look at
him, that he'd ever been mixed up in
anything liveliern layin a church cor
nerstone, but it leaks out that he had
been .through all kinds of scraps in
India', comes from the same stock as the
old Marquis of Queensbury, and has fol
lowed the ring more or less himself.
"I had the doubtful honor," says he,
bnhngin both eyes into range on me, "of
backing a certain Mr. Palmer, whom we
sent over" here several years ago after a
belt.
"He got more'n one belt, says I.
"Quite so," says . he, almost crackln
a smile; "one belt too many, I fancy."
Say, that was a real puncherino, eh?
I ain't sure but what he got off more
along the same line, for some of them
British kind is hard to know unless you
pee 'em printed in the Joke column.
Anyway, we has quite a chin, and before
he left we got real chummy.
He had a right to be feelin gay,
though; for he'd come over to. marry a
girl with more real estate deeds than
you could pack in a trunk. Some kin of
Pinckney's this Miss Cornerlot was; a
sort of faded flower that had hung too
long on the stem. She'd run across Sir
Hunter in London, him bein' a widower
that was willin' to forget, and they'd
made a go of it, nobobdy knew why. I
judged that Pinckney was some relieved
at the prospects of placin' a misfit. He'd
PICTURES
his place taken by a dummy before it
reached h.im. Unhappily, the driver was
unable to stop his engine, and the actor,
himself he owner of the biograph, was
run over.
When these real dramas are performed
upon the screen, the figures move some
times with an astounding rapidity. In
the funny little play, "IVEchelle," the
robber must run 100 yards down the
street while the apparatus is working. If
he kept the crank turning at the usual
rate, the operator would get about 900
pictures.
To produce an impression of greater
speed, what does he do? He cuts down
the number of pictures to 600, which still
reproduces the distance as before, but
will be run off upon the screen In. a
much briefer time. So the actor no
longer runs; he bounds ahead with out
rageous leaps, since a part of his suc
cessive postures have- been omitted by
the biograph.
One o?, the most successful films, "Lo
Voyage de Nounou," has been tampered
with in thjft way all through. A nurse
that is, a clown dressed up as a nurse
In order to recapture baby's balloon,
which is lodged In the branch of a tree,
puts the infant on a bench and climb3
Into the perambulator. f
The ground Is sloping, the baby car- ;
rlage starts- away, nurse and all. It
darts through Paris, charges along the
banks of the Seine, reaches Rouen, then
Havre and the sea. There's no stopping
it. It darts across the ocean, carrying
Nounou to the imaginary land of Pa
pouesia, where the natives make her
their cueeri.
To dress up a score of people as Pa
poueeians and to erect a little bamboo
village in the Bois de Vincennes was
mere child's play. It was equally easy
to, transport clown and perambulator to
Saint Germain, Mantes and AndeJys
along all the dizzy slopes that could
be found. But how to arrange the trip
across the ocean?
At Havre a second baby carriage was
built without wheels and perfectly sea
worthy. The clown got aboard, and ' a
tug towed the extraordinary craft out to
sea. while the biograph apparatus fol
lowed and pictured the dancing baby
carriage traversing the water. By touch
ing out the tow rope in the photographs,
the trick was completed.
There's a better one still. By some
amazing enchantment the biograph can
make horses gallop backward and make
hats Jump up from the ground and re
place themselves on their owner's heads.
The film has simply been reversed.
To produce certain lengthy comic
scenes, with wondrous fairies performing
in them, the biograph man must have
the interior of a theater at his disposal.
With the exception of the Opera and the
Chatelet, no theater in Paris is well
equipped as a biograph establishment
The Goumonts have one 140 feet long,
with a stage 60 feet deep and 105 feet
high. The stage flooring is strong enough
to uphold a troupe of elephants, and has
two approaches for teams.
The problem of lighting, here of prime
Importance, Is solved by a skylight of
1900 square yards. Twelve powerful arc
lights afforded additional illumination.
So powerful are they that they will
blister your hands and face. Notices in
the wings warn the artists against re
maining too long within their glare.
Everybody was delighted with the ad
ventures of the gentleman who walked
up the side of the wall and ran along
the ceiling like a fly. Here Is the se
cret. A stage set representing a parlor
wall was laid upon the floor; farther
on a second stage set showed a dining
HUNTDK. TWIGGL.D
laid out for a little dinner at the club,
just to introduce Sir Hunter to his set
and brace him up for bein' inspected by
the girl's aunt and other relations at
some swell doln's after.
I didn't pay much attention to their
programme at the time. It wa'n't any of
my funeral who Pinckney married off
his leftover second cousins to; and by
evenln' I'd clean forgot all about Twig
gle; when Pinckney phones he'd be
obliged if I could step around to a Broad
way hotel right off, as he's in trouble.
Pinckney meets me just inside the plate
glass merry-go-round. "Something in the
matter with Sir Hunter," says he, "and I
can't find out from his fool man what It
is."
"Before we gets any deeper let's clear
the ground," says I. "When you left
him, was he soused, or only damp around
the edges?'
"Oh, it's not that at all," says Pinck
ney. "Sir Hunter is a gentleman r, with
afwonderfui capacity."
"The Hippodrome tank's got that too,"
says I; "but there's enough fancy drinks
mixed on Broadway every afternoon to
run it over."
Sir Hunter-has a set of rooms on the
leven th floor. He wa'n't in sight, but we
digs up Rinkey. By the looks he'd just
escaped from the chorus of a musical
comedy, or else an Italian bakery. Near
as I could make out he- didn't have any
mmmmmmm
It Starts for the Inside Door.
proper clothes on at all, but was just done
up in white buntin" that was wrapped and
draped around him, like a parlor lamp on
movin" day The spots of him that you
could see, around the back of his neck
and the soles of his feet, was the color of
a 20-cent maduro cigar. He was spread
out on the rug with his heels toward us
and his head on the sill of the door leadin'
into the next room.
'Back up, Pinckney!" says I. "This
muet be a colored prayer meetin' we're
buttin' into."
"No, it's all right,' says Pinckney.
room wall; a third did for the decorated
ceiling.
Each had all its appropriate appurte
nances. The apparatus was carried to
the top of the theater and the lens
pointed downward. The actor crawled
on all fours from one stage set to the
next, while the operator turned the
crank. The film showed no evidence of
the humbug, and the man was shown
really running along the ceiling.
But now we come to the case where
lnamiate objects become animate. With
no workmen present a carpenter shop as
sumes a lively activity the saw sawing
a plank, the plane running to and fro
the lathe turning, the hammer rising
and falling.
This is how this Is done. Instead of
turning a crank this time, .the operator
runs his apparatus by an electrical ar
rangement so precise that it enables him
to take one picture at a time. The stage
manager moves the tools just so far
and no farther, gets out of the way, and
another picture is taken. So on to the
end. When the film goes at normal speed
the halts no longer exist. The illusion
is perfect.
Same process for "La Statue," which
emerges unassisted from a block of clay."
A ' soft clay model, newly formed, Is
reduced by a series of beatings to a
shapeless mass. At each step In the
procedure a picture is taken. The film
is shown run backward.
In fairyland the biograph is at its best,
though the tricks are performed by the
camera itself. To make a human being
melt into air and vanish keep diminish
ing the opening of the diaphragm. To
make a fairy appear pose the. aotress
and, beginning with a closed diaphragm,
open it gradually.
For miracles of magic, slowly close
the diaphragm, thus blotting out one
figure; while it is closed substitute an
other. Run the film back to the point
where the first actress begins to fade out,
start the machine slowly open the dia
phragm and yon make the second actress
seem to evolve out of the first, since the
new pictures will be caught upon the
same parts of the film that have already
registered the others.
When the artists have gone home and
the lights are out the pranks of the bio
graph are continued In the manipulation
of the films. The elision of certain pic
tures will improve the fun or mask the
mechanics of a fairy scene. And coloring
will be of value. Night scenes will be
dipped in blue bath, sunlight effects in
a yellow yellow bath, fire scenes in a
red-bath, forest scenes in a green bath.
If the pictures are to be colored in de
tali the work is delicate In the extreme
and is done by women. They paint in
miniature under magnifying glasses and
use the finest of brushes.
Every day thousands of miles of film
are shipped abroad by the biograph es
tablishments of Paris. France leads the
world in this production. And the bio
graph has a future that has enlisted the
interest of the best playwrights. MM.
Paul Hervieu, Lavaden and Jules Le
maitre have announced intentions to cre
ate dramas for the biograph that will
be played by artists of the rank of
Coquelin and Bernhardt.
Stolen Sweets.
Don Marquis In Lippincott's.
A drunken bee cam bumbling- ty
Across the nelda of bloom;
I sternly asked "him how It was
He. hiccoughed when he tried to buss;
Says he, "It's that perfume!"
I asked a tipsy liumming-bird
That staggered nm he flew.
"My friend." said he, "I seldom drink.
But some one passed this way, I think,
Xnd mixed, wine with the dew."
Kate, don't tou kiss my flower, again!
Tou let those petals be.
If euch delicious madness drip.
Like wine from your carewing IiM
you brtna- 'em here to met .
"That is Sir Hunter's man Kinghi Singh."
"Sounds like a coon song." says I. "But
he's no valet. He's a cook; can't you see
by the cap?"
"That's a turban," says Pinckney. "Sir
Hunter brought Ringhi from India, and he
wears his native costume." .
"Gee!" says I. "If that's his reg'lar
get up. he's got Mark Twain's Phoebe
Snow outfit beat a .mile. But does Rin
key always rest on bis face when he sits
down?"
"It's that position which puzzles me."
says Pinckney. "All I could get out of
him was that Sahib Twiggle was In bed,
and wouldn't see anyone."
"Oh. then the heathen is wise to United
States talk, is he?" says I.
"He understands English, of course'
says Pir.ckney, "but he declines to talk."
"That's easy fixed," says I, reachin"
outand grabbin' Rinkey by the slackof
his bloomers. "Maybe his conversation
works is out of kink." and I up ends
Rinkey into a chair.
"Be careful!" Pinckney sings out.
"They're treacherous chaps."
I had my eye peeled for cutlery, but he
was the mildest choe'late cream you ever
saw. He slumped there on. the chair,
shiverin' as if he had a chill comin' on,
and rollin' his eyes like a cat in a fit.
He was so scared he didn't know the day
of the month from the time of night.
"Cheer up, Rinkey," says I, "and act
sociable. Now tell the gentleman what's
ailin' your boss."
It was like talkin' into a 'phone when
the line's out of business. Rinkey goes
on sendin' Morse wireless with his teeth,
and never unloosens a word.
"Look here, Br'er Singh," says I, "you
ain't gettin' any third degree yet! Cut
out the ague act and give Mr. Pinckney
the straight talk. He's got a date here
and wants to know why the gate is up."
More silence from Rinkey.
"Oh, well," says I, "I expect it ain't
etiquette to jump the outside guard; but
if we're goin' to get next to Sir Hunter,
It looks like, we had to announce our
selves. Here goes!"
I starts for'the inside door; but I hadn't
got my knuckles on the panel' before Rin
key was givin' me the knee tackle and
splutterin' all kinds of language.
"Hey!" says I. "Got the cork out, have
you?"
With that Rinkey gets up and beckons
us over into the far corner.
"The lord sahib." says he, rollin' his
eyes at the bedroom door "the lord sahib
desires that none should come near. He
is in great anger."
"What's he grouchy about " says I.
' "The lord sahib," says he, "will destroy
to death poor Ringhi Singh if he reveals."
"Destroy to death is good," says I; "but
It don't sound convlncin'. I think we're
bein' strung."
Pinckney has the same idea, so I gets
a good grip on Rinkeys neck.
"Come off!" says I. "As a liar you're
too ambitious. You tell us achat's the
matter with your boss, or I'll do things
to you that'll make bein' destroyed to
death seem like fallin' on a feather bed."
And It come, quick. "Yes, sahib," says
he. "It is that there has been lost be
yond finding the lord sahib's glorious
eye."
"Sizzlin sisters! Another pane gone!"
says I. "This must be my eye retrievln'
day, for sure." I
But Pinckney takes it mighty serious.
He says that the dinner at the club don't
1 LITTLE JOYCES' JULY LETTERS
BT LOUISB LEXINGTON. '
HEAitT'S CONTENT, July 1, 1908.
Deftr Aunt Margaret: I am so
glad that you like my letters.
With all my practice, it seems to me,
however, that I ought to succeed in
making myself clear. How we laughed
over your interpretation of my "gentle
gray lady." Tou see, she is not old at
all, but really very young and pretty,
Julie Just calls her that because she
is so serious and dresses in such a
quaint manner quite like a gentle,
sweet-faced nun. But Julie says she
thinks she will have to' name her all
over again now and call her "the
gentle gay lady," because her letters
are simply sparkling with fun and hap.
piness: We were so pleased with the
last one from Yellowstone Park that
I begged mamma - to let me send it
on to you. I am sure that it will act
like a tonic and make you entirely
well. I have read parts of it to almost
everybody I knew, and even took it
out to the clot-es yard this morning
to try it upon Kuth Ann. But I found
her in a very obstinate mood and she
shook the towels and pillow slips un
til they fairly crackled.
"She'd much better be at home," Ruth
Ann declared, "than gallivantin' off to
that ridiculous plac as if our own
City Park or the Oaks wa'n't good
enough for a picnic."
"But, Ruth Ann," I tried to explain,
"she is on her honeymoon. One al
ways travels about when on a honey
moon that's what that beautiful blue
tailored gown was for."
"She'd be senstbler in a gingham dress
and kitchen apron," Ruth Ann snapped
back.
"But her new home won't be completed
until Flail," I argued, determined to stand
by the "gentle gray lady" until the last.
"She'll have no housekeeping to do until
then."
"All the more reason. Miss Joyce, for
both of 'em to be in Portland now he
to look after the buildin' of their house
and she to put up preserves! There's a
time for honeymoons and a time for doin'
ub fruit. A honeymoon can be had at
any tune to my notion, but fruit's got
to be looked after when it's ripe."
It's perfectly useless to "talk back" at
Ruth Ann. so I took up "the gentle gray
lady's" letter and went to the house.
Ruth Ann is terribly stiff and unyield
ing. She makes one almost want to slap
her sometimes. I only hope when I grow
old I shall not turn into an old, hard,
gnarled oak tree. Lovingly,
JOYCE.
"Heart's Content," July 2, 1908. Dear
Aunt Margaret: I am sure you will not
expect another letter so soon, but I have
an apology to make to Ruth Ann, and so
must get it off my mind at once to you.
I had a talk with Julie this morning
while che was putting rose leaves and
spices into her big dragon jar that Is al
most as tall as she. Julie is so industri
ous. She Is as busy all day long as Ruth
Ann, and always smiling. She is like
mamma. Why, I asked her the other day
if she would rather make a cherry pie
or read a new story, and what do you
suppose? She said she would rather
count for so much, but that the other af
fair can't be sidetracked so easy. It
seems that the girl has lived through one
throw down, when the feller skipped off
to Europe just as the tie-up was to be
posted, and it wouldn't do to give her a
second scare of the same kind.
Rinkey was mighty reluctant about
goin' into details, but we gets it out of
him by degrees that the lord sahib has a
habit, when he's locked up alone. t un
screwin" the fake lamp and puttin' It
away in a box full of cotton, battin".
"Always in great secret." says Rinkey;
"for the lord sahib would not disclose.
iililii
:&Mm
ji ;-
s 'i : h . -
lis
He's Shy a Lamp on One Side.
But I have seen which was an evil thing
oh. very evil! Tonight it was done as
before; but when it was time for the re
turn, alas! the box was down side up on
the floor and the glorious eye was not
anywhere. Search! We look Into every
thing, under all things. Then comes a
great rage on the lord sahib. and I be
sore from it in many places."
"That accounts for your restin' on your
face, eh?" says I. "Well, Pinckney, what
now?"
"Why," says he, "we've simply got to
get a substitute eye. "I'll wait here while
you go out and buy another."
"Say, Pinckney," I says, "if you was
goin' down Broadway at 8:30 P. M., shop
pin' for glass eyes, where'd you hit first?
Would you try a china store, or a gent's
fumishin' place?"
"Don't they have them at drug stores?"
says Pinckney.
"I never seen any glass eye counters in
the ones I go to," says I. And then, right
in the midst of our battin' our heads, I
comes to.
"Oh, splash!" says I. "Pinckney, if
anyone asks you, don't let on what a
hickory head I am. Why, I've got a
glass eye that Sir Hunter can have the
loan of over night, just as wen as not."
"You!" says Pinckney, lookin' wild.
"Sure thing," says I. "It's a beaut, too.
Can't a feller own a glass eye without
wearin' it?"
"But where is It?" says Pinckney.
"It's with Snick Butters," says I. "He's
usin' it. I expect. Fact is, it was built for
Snick, but I hold a gilt-edged first mort
gage, and all I need to do to foreclose is
make the pie and afterwards crowd the
story in somehow or other. So it must
be that I am lazy, for I- know I should
read the story first, then eat the cherries
and not bother about the pie at all. But
I am forgetting about Ruth Ann. Julie
asked me if I had noticed what Ruth
Ann had been doing lately, and as I
hadn't, we went to the basement, where
there are swinging shelves upon which
to store canned fruit. The center shelf
bore the sign, "For Mrs. Walsh," and
upon it were rows and ' rows of pretty
labeled glasses and pint jars, all filled
with delightful things. Julie said. "You
see, Joyce, Ruth Ann "has really adopted
'the gentle gray lady.' That's why she
feels free to scold about her as she does.
Whenever she scolds people like that, and
works hard for 'them at the same time,
it's a dandy good sign that she loves
them Just as she loves all of us."
It sounded exactly like one of mam
ma's little preachments. Dear old Ruth
Ann, whatever should we do without her?
If she has grown old and somewhat
sharp of tongue, it has been in a long,
faithful service to all of us, that has
lasted since I was a tiny baby.
This morning mamma wore that pretty
blue shirtwaist suit that you sent her
for her birthday. She looked more like
"Saint Elizabeth" than ever. The young
woman who made it has the palest face
and the largest gray eyes of anyone I
ever saw. She brought 'the suit home
last evening and then rested in the gar
den a while. Her face has haunted me
ever since. Her name is Mabel Moffett.
Lovingly, - JOYCE.
"Heart's Content," July S. 1908.
My Dear Aunt Yesterday was per
fectly heavenly. "Saint Elizabeth" was
at home all day, enough of Itself to
make us supremely happy. Billy, with
a big cigar-box full of flre-orackers,
had Ruth Ann frightened out of her
wits before breakfast. And then, in
the afternoon people kept calling, and
carrying away beautiful roses. Oh, the
rosea at "Heart's Content!" Thene ar
thousands of them, and almost all of
our neighbors have- Just as many.
There are long hedges of them; they
are planted along the curb; In every
tiny yard, and are rioting over fences
and walls.
Billy asked two ladles who called If
they had ever eaten any wild straw
berries, and when they said "No," he
offered to show them where some grew
If they would go with him to "the
other side of the world." They laughed,
but decided to go, so we followed him
around the house to where our lawn
slopes downward to the loveliest stretch
of woods beyond. Julia has named It "the
other side of the world," because it is
so different from the view seen at the
front. Fronr the front veranda one
may look down upon Portland the
thousands of buildings and the miles
upon miles of streets, and can hear the
rumble of the big city almoet like the
distant beating of the ocean surf. But
on "the other side of the world" there
are mossy banks, a tiny stream trick
ling lazily, a clump of big stately fir
trees, and a sunny slope where wild
strawberries and blackberries grow
and all within 20 minutes of the heart
of the city.
In the evening there were more peo
ple, among them dear old Mr. and Mrs.
Thomas. They were our neighbors be
fore we moved up here, and neither of
them had ever seen the city by night
from Portland Heights. Mr. Thomas
looked at the beautiful lights below,
that stretch away on either side almost
as far 'as the eye can see, and kept
?r-earfr- '.-.V
r
1
U - it S
say the word. Come on. Just as soon as:
we find Snick you can run back and fix!
up Sir Hunter as good as new."
"Do you think you can find him?" say:
Pinckney.
"We've got to find him." says I. "I'm'
gettin' Interested in this game."
Snick was holdln' down a chair in the
smokjn' room at the Gilsey. He grins'
when he sees me, but when I puts it up
to him about callln' in the loose lens for
over night his Jaw drops.
"Just my luck." says he. "Here I've
got bill board seats for the Casino ar.d
was goin' to take the girl to the show as
Soon as she can get off."
"Sorry, Snick," says I, "but this is a
desperate case. Won't she stand for the
green curtain?"
"S-s-sh!" says he. "She don't know a
thing about that. I'll have to rail it off.
Give me two minutes, will you?"
That Was Snick, all over losln' out Just
as easy as some folks wins. When he
cemes back, though, and I tells him
what's doin, he says he'd like to know
just where the lamp was goin", so he
could be around after it in the mornin.
"Sure." says I. "Bring it alunc up
with you, then there won't be any chance
of our losin' it."
So all three ot us goes back to the ho
tel.. Pinckney wa'n't sayin' a word, actin'
like he was kind of dazed, but watchin" ,
Snick all the time. As we gets into th
elevator, he pulls me by the sleeve and
whispers:
"I say, Shorty, which one is It?"
"The south one," says I.
It wasn't till we got clear Into Sir Hun
ter's reception room, under the light, that
Pinckney heaves up something else.
"Oh. I say," says he. starin' at Snick.'
"Beg pardon for mentioning It, but yours
is a er you have blue eyes, haven't you,
Mr. Butters?"
"That's right," says Snick.
"And Sir Hunter's are brown. It will
never do." says he.
"Ah. what's the odds at night?" says I.
"Maybe the girl's color blind, anyway."
"No," says Pinckney, "Sir Hunter
would never do it. Now, if you only knew
of some one with a "
"I don't," says I. "Snick's the only
glass-eyed friend I got on my repertoire..
It's either his or none. You send Rinkeyj
in to ask Twiggle if a blue one won't da
on a pinch." '
Mr. Rinkey didn't like the sound of that
programme a bit, and he goes to clawln)
around my knees, beggln' me not to send;
him in to the lord sahib. .
"G'wan!" says I, pushin' him oft. "Yo;
make me feel as if I was bein' measured'
for a pair of leggin's. Skiddoo!" !
As I gives him a shove my fingerj
catches in the white stuff he has aroundj
hts head, and It begins to unwind. I'd
peeled off about a yard, when out rolls,
somethln' shiny that Snick spots ai
makes a grab for. !
"Hello!" saye he. "What's this?' ;
It was the stray brown, all right. That!
Kipling negro has had It stowed away all
the time. Well say, there was lively
doin's In that room for the next few min-'
utes; me tryln' to get a strangle hold on!
Rinkey, and him doin' his best to Jump
through a window, chairs bein' knocked
over, Snick hoppin' around tryln' to help.i
and Pinckney explainin' to Sir Hunter,
through the keyhole what It was all about.1
When It was through we held a court of.
Inquiry. And what do you guess? That'
smoked Chinaman had swiped it on pur-j
pose, thinkln' If he wore It on the back of;
his head he could see behind him.;
Wouldn't that grind you?
But it all comes out happy. Sir Hunter
was a little late for dinner, but he shows
up two-eyed before the girl, makes a hit
with her folks, and has engaged Snick to
give him private lessons on how to make
a fake optic behave like the real goods.
(Copyright by the Associated Sunday;
Magazines, Inc.)
exclaiming: "In all my life I never
saw anything so fine.
Presently, from every part of the
city, the graceful rockets began to as
cend, and the effect was beautiful. It
seemed just as if many of the bright
lights had grown tired of patiently
"shining in their little corners," and
had started out boldly in search of ad
venture. Now I hear Ruth Ann calling to me
to go to bed, or I'll not want to get up
to the early breakfast tomorrow mor
ning wash day. Tomorrow, after my
music, I am going to call upon Mabel
Moffett. I can't get her out of my
mind. She said she perfectly adored
flowers ,and hadn't one. Lovingly,
JOYCE.
"Heart's Content," July 8, 190S.
Oh, Dear Aunt Margaret I do feel
so sad, through and through! Here are
Julie and I, as strong and well as can
be, up here where it is cool and lovely,,
with everything at "Heart's Content"
that heart could desire, while down
there in two of the dingiest "light'
housekeeping" rooms live pretty, deli-,
cate Mabel Moffett and her poor old
mother. I told about my visit to them'
at the dinner table tonight, and Billy,
said, feelingly: "I'll give them one of
my kittens'." but dear little Julie, with:
her tender heart, Just plumped her head
down and cried and cried. Julia does look
so pretty when she cries. I keep wish
ing our pretty bungalow were made of
India rubber, and that we might have
them up here all the rest of the Sum-'
mer. But It Is full now, and will not1
stretch a bit. Lovingly, JOYCE.
"Heart's Content," July 22, 1908.
Dear Aunt Margaret You are ever
so fine and dandy. Now, there is a
Summer camp on "the other side of the:
world," and Mabel Moffett and her'
mother are established there "too,
happy for words." Mabel daren't stop
work for even one day at the place
where she is sewing for fear of losing
her position, but we have persuaded
her to give up the extra work morning
and evening, and she says it wfll not be
necessary to work so hard now, since
they will have no rent to pay. v They
do enjoy sleeping in that pretty striped
tent out there among the trees so
much. I am happy to tell you that
Ruth Ann indorses the Summer ten
ants of "Heart's Content Annex," and
today baked them a loaf of bread. She
says old Mrs. Moffett is a born lady
that anybody with eyes ought to see
that.
There was five dollars too much for
the camping outfit, and so I am return
ing it to you In this letter. You have
been so good. Aunt Margaret, it is use
less to attempt to thank you. But you
have made those two wonderfully
happy, and all of us too. Lovingly,
JOYCE.
Birthplace of the Icebergs.
St. Nicholas.
We might call Greenland the world's
icebox. If you glance at the map you
will see that the State of ICew York, large
as it seems to us. Is not over one-twentieth
the size of Greenland, for New York
contains only 47,000 square miles.
Then think that the glaciers are stead
ily moving away from the center of
Greenland, really being crowded off the
land, and it will not seem so strange that
here is the birthplace of nearly all of'
the icebergs that are so feared by the
mariner.