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About The Sunday Oregonian. (Portland, Ore.) 1881-current | View Entire Issue (Nov. 1, 1908)
ROUND Un&jcpsctbd and Lively Expkri&nc& on Cqnev Island of T,t c-usm AiTumTcAiimT a AMn PpnvR.s'.vnR. JShORTY iVl SAY. who was tellin you? Ah. fwan! Tbrm sea shore, press agents in full of fried eels. Disguises nolhir.'! Them folks I ban with me was the real things. The Rev. Doc. Akfihead? Not much. That wan my little old blHbop. And It wa n t any slummln party at all. It was Just a, little errand of mercy that jot switched. It was this way: The bishop, he chows up at the studio for his reg'lar medicine ball work, that I'm glvin' him so's he can keep his equator from gettin' the best of his longitude. That's all on the quiet, though. Its somethin' I ain't puttln' on the bulletin board, or lncludin In my list of references, understand? Well, we has had our half-hour session, and the bishop has Just made a break for the cold shower and the dresslnf" room, while 1m preparin' to shed my workln' clothes for the afternoon; when In pops Swifty Joe. closln- the gym. door behind him real soft snd mysterious. - "Hhorty." says he In that hoarse whisper he gets on when hes excited, '"she's she's come:" "Who's come?" says I. 'S-s-s-sb!" says he, wavln" his hands. "It's the old girl: and she's got a grin!" "Ah. say!" says I. "Come out of the trance. What old girl? And what about the irun?" Maybe you've never seen Swifty when he's real stirred up? He wears a cor rugated brow, and his lower Jaw hangs lonee, leavln' the Mammoth Cave wide open, and his eyes bug- out like shoe buttons. His thoughts come faster than he can separate himself from the words; so It's hard gettin' at Just what he means to say. But as near as I can come to it there's a wide female party waltln' out In the front office for me. with blood in her eye and a self cockin' section of the unwritten law In her list. Course. I knows right off there must be some mistake, or else It's a case of dope, and I says so. But Swifty Is plumb sure she knew who she was askln' for when she calls for me. and begs me not to go out. He's for rlngin' up the police. "Ring up nobody!" siiys I. "Spose I want this thing gettin' into the papers? If a Lady Bughouse has strayed in here, we got to shoo her out as quiet as pos sible, flie can't shoot If we rush her. Come on!" I will say for Swifty Joe that, while, he ain't got any too much sense, there's no ocher streak in him. When I pulls open the gym. door and gives the word, we went through neck and neck. "Look out!" he yells, and I sees him makin' a grab at the arm of a broad beamed old party, all done up nicely in gray silk snd white lace. And say. it's lucky I got a good mem'ry for profiles; for If I hadn't seen right away It was Purdy Bligh's Aunt Isabella, and that the gun was nothln' but 'her silver heartu' tube, we might have been tryln' to explain it to her yet. As it Is. I'm Just near enough to make a swipe for Swlfty's right hand with my left, and I Jerks his paw back Just as she turns around from lookin' out of the window and gets her lamps on us. Say. we must have looked like a pair of batty ones, stsndln there holdin' hands and starin at her! But it seems that folks as deaf as she Is alnt easy surprised. All she does Is feel around for her gold eye glasses with one hand and (It the silver hearhv machine to her off ear with the other. It's one of these pepper box af fairs, and I didn't much wonder that Swifty took it for a gun. "Are you Professor McCabe?" says she. "Sure!" I hollers; and Swifty. not lookin" for such strenuous conversation, goes up In the air about two feet. "I beg pardonl" says the old girl; "hut will you kindly speak Into the audiphone." So I steps up closer, forgettln" that I still has the clutch on Swifty, and drags him along. "Ahr, chee!" says Swifty. "This ain't no brother act. Is it?" With that I lets him go. and me and Aunt Isabella gets down to business. I was lookin' wor some tale about Purdy you know, the one that had the half brother wa shunted back to Bombazoula? But It looks like this was a new deal; for she opens up by ask in' If I knew a party by the name of Dennis Whaloy. "Do I?" says IT "I've known Dennis ever since I can remember knowln' any body. He's runnln" my place out to Primrose Park now. "I thought so." says Aunt Isabella. "Then perhaps you know a niece of his. Margaret Whaloy?" I didn't: but I'd heard of her. She's Terence Whaley's girl, that come over from Sklhbereen four or five years back, after near starvln to death one wet sea son when the potato crop was so bad. Well. It seems Maggie has worked a couple of years for Aunt Isabella as kitchen girl. Then she's got ambitious, quit service, and got a flatwork Job in a hand laundry eight per, 1 hours, a day. Saturday 16 hours. I didn't tumble why all this was worth clilnnln about until Aunt Isabella re minds me that she's president and board of directors of the I.ady Tot Wrestlers Improvement Society. She's one of the kind that spends her time tryin' to or ganise study classes for hired girls who have different plans for spendln" thelt Thursday afternoons off. Sfeems that Aunt Isabella has been keepln special tabs on Maggie, callln' at the laundry to give her good advice, and leavin' her books to read. which I got a tintype of her readin', not. and otherwise doln' the tipliftln' act accordln' to rule. But along In the early Summer Maggie had quit the laundry without consultln' the old girl about It. Aunt Isabella kept on the trail, though, run down her last board in place, and begun writin her what she called hlpfut U tters. She kept this up until she was Handed the un grateful Jolt. The last letter come back to her witn a few remarks scribbled acrcss the face, lndlcatln that readin' such stuff gave Maggie a pain in the small of her back. But the worst of it all was. accordln" to Aunt Isabella, that Maggie was In Coney Island. "Think of it!" says she. "That poor. In nocent girl, living in that dreadfully wicked place! Isn't it terrible,?" "Oh. I don't know." says L "It all depends." "'Hcyr says the old girl. "What say?" Kvrr try to carry on a debate through a silver salt shaker? It's the limit. Tl'lnkin' It would be a lot easier to agree with her. I shouts out, "Sure thing!" and nods my head. She nods back and rolls her eyes. "She must be rescued at once!" says Aunt Isabella.. "Her uncle ought to be not I lied. Can't you send for him?" As it happens, Dennis had come down that mornin' to see an old friend of his that was due to croak; so I figures it !. l-Vf THE RESCUE EXPEDITION out that the best way 'would be to get him and tlie old lady together and let "em have it out. I chases Swifty down to West Eleventh street .to bring Dennis back In a hurry, ajid invites Aunt Isabella to make herself comfortable until he comes. She's too excited to alt down, though. She goes pacin" around the front office, now and then lookin' me over suspicious, bein" still In my gym. suit. and then slxln up the sportln' pictures on the wall. My art exhibit is mostly made up of signed photos of Jeff and Fltz and Nelson In their ring costumes, and it was easy to see slie's some Jarred. "I hope this Is a perfectly respectable place, young man," says she. "It ain't often pulled by the oops," says I. Instead of calmln' her down, that seems to stir her up worse 'n ever. "I should hope not!" says 'she. "'How long must I wait here?" "No longer'n you feel like waltln". ma' am." says I. And Just then the gym. door opens, and in walks the bishop that I d clean forgot all about. "Why, bishop!" squeals Aunt Isabella. "Tou here!' Say, it didn't need any second sight to see that the bishop would have rather met most anybody else at that particular minute; but he hands her the neat return. "It appears that I am," says he. "And you?" Well, it was up to her to do the ex plainin. She gives him the whole history of Maggie Whaley, wlndln' up with how she's been last heard from at Coney Island. "Isn't it dreadful, bishop?" says she. "And can't you do something to help rescue her?" Now I was lookin for the bishop to say somethin" soothin'; but hanged if he don't chime in and admit that It's a sad case and he'll do what he can to help. About then Swifty shows up with Den nis, and Aunt Isabella lays it before him. Now. accordin" to his own account, Den nis and Terence always had It In for each. other at home, and he never took much stock In Maggie either. But after he'd listened to Aunt Isabella for a few minutes,, bearln her talk about his duty to the girl, and how she ought to be yanked off the toboggin of sin, he takes It as serious as any of 'cm. "Wurraii. wurrah!" says he. "hut this do be a black day for the Whalcys! It's the MeOuigan blood comin' out In her. What's to be done, mum?" AunL Isabella has a programme all mapped out. Her Idea is to get up a rescue expedition on the spot and start for Coney. Slie says Dennis ought to go, for he's Maggie's uncle and has got some authority; and she wants the bishop to do any prayln over her that may be needed. "As for me." says she. "I shall do my best to persuade her to leave her wicked companions." Well, they was. all agreed, and ready to start, when It conies out that not one of the three has ever been to the Island In their lives, and don't know how to get there. At that I sees the Bishop lookin" expectant at me. "Shorty," says he, "I presume you are somewhat familiar with this er wicked resort." "Not the one you're talkin about." says I. "I've been goln to Coney every year since I was old enough to toddle, and I'll admit there has been seasons when some parts of it was kind of tough; but as a general proposition it never looked wicked to me."' That kind of puxzles the bishop. He says he's always understood that the isl and was sort of a vent hole for the big sulphur works. Aunt Isabella is dead sure of it. too. and hints that maybe I ain't much of a Judge. Anyway, she thinks I'd be good guide for a place of that kind, and prods the bishop on to urge me to go. "Well." says I. "Just for a flier. 1 will." So, as soon as I've changed my clothes, we starts for the iron steamboats, and plants ourselves on the upper deck. And, say. we was a sporty lookin" bunch I don't guess. There was the bishop. In his little flat hat and white choker you couldn't mistake what lie was and Aunt Isabella, with her gray hair and her gTay and white costume, lookin" about as giddy as a marble angel on a tombstone. Then there's Dennis, who has ,1. V ", .Jo 1 4 . V Or VVCk GOES OUT OF BUSINESS WITH A put on the black whipcord Prince Al bert he always wears when hes visitln' sick friends or attendin" funerals. The only festlve-lookin' point about him was the russet-colored throat hedge he wears in place of a necktie. Honest, I felt sorry for them suds slingers that travels round the deck singin' out, "Who wants the waiter?" Mi rite mm :,.tJ' ...... Vt: J- - .Jr- f !f 4'-tfft'V I HAS THE CLUTCH ON SWIFTY Every time one would come our way he'd get as f-ir as "Who wants " and then he'd switch off with an "Ah, chee:" and go away disgusted. All the way down the old girl has her eye out -for wickedness. The sight of Adolph. the grocery clerk, dippin' his beak Into a mug of froth moves her to sit up and give him the stony glare; v f. i; 1 r v. iv THE BARKERS while a glimpse of a young couple snug glln' up against each other along the rail almost gives her a spasm. "Such braxen depravity!"' says she to the bishop. By the time we lands at the iron pier she has knocked Coney so much that I has worked up a. first-class grouch. "tVme on:'' rays !. "Ijet's have Mag gie's address and get through with this "it. A ... m:n I fFi! t it n 'mrnmm viln: 'j'it'wV -iiilk TRY rescue business before all you good folks is soggy with sin." Then it turns out she ain't got any address at all. The most she knows Is that MaRgie's somewhere on the island. "Well." I shouts into the tube, "Coney's something of a place, you see! What's your idea of findin' her? . - -e 4 4, I lib c nfP? 'tsT r LOW, HOLLO WPLUNK. "We must search," says Aunt Isabella, prompt and decided. "Mean to throw out a regular drag net?" says I. She does. Well, say, if you've ever been to Coney on a good day, when there was from 60 to 100,000 folks clrculatln" about, you've got some notion of. what a proposition of that kind means. Course, AND DRAGS HIM ALONG. I wan't goln' to tackle the Job with any hope of gettin" away with It; but right there I'm struck with a pteasin' thought. "Do I gather that I'm to be the Com mander Peary of this expedition?" says L It was a unanimous vote that I was. "Well." says I, "you know you can't carry It through on hot air. It takes coin to get past the gates In this place." it "'' Ail ' (' r ''f ?f' ;ll Hp Hi i. ;:, &S0&. Vr . -:!-r:-:-..-- tjr - mm TAKES ONE LOOK AT US AND LOSES Aunt Isabella says she's prepared to stand all the expense. And what do you suppose she passes out? A green five! "Ah, say. this ain't any Sunday school excursion," says L "Why, that wouldn't last us a block. Guess you'll have to dig deeper or call It off." She was game, though. She brings up a couple of tens next dip, the bishop adds two more, and I heaves In one on my own hook. "Now understand," says I. "if I'm headin' this procession there mustn't be any hangin' back or arguln' about the course. Coney's no place for a quitter, and there's some queer corners in it; but we're lookin" for a particular party, so we can't skip any. Follow close, don't ask me fool questions, and e-erybody keep their eye skinned for Maggie. Is that clear?" They said it was. "Then we're off in a bunch. This way!" sayu I. Say. It was almost too good to be true. I hadn't niore'n got "em inside of Dream land before they has their mouths open and their eyes, popped, and they was so rattled they didn't know whether they was goln" up or comin" down. The bishop grabs me by the elbow. Aunt Isabella gets a desperate grip on his coat tails, and Dennis hooks two fingers into the back of her belt. When we lines up like that we has the fat woman takin" her first camel ride pushed behind the screen. The barkers out In front of the dime attractions takes one look at us and loses their voices for e whole minute and It takes a good deal to choke up one of them human cyclones. I gives 'em back the merry grin and blazes ahead. First thing I sees that looks good Is the wiggle-waggle brass staircase, where half of the steps goes up as the other comes down. "Now. altogether!" says I. feedinj the coupons to the ticket man, and I runs em up against the liver restorer at top speed. Say. that exhibition must have done the rubbernecks good! First we was all Jolted up in a heap, then we was strung out like a yard of frankfurters; but I kept "em at it until we gets to the top. Aunt Isabella, has lost her breath and her bonnet has slid over one ear. the bishop Is red In the face, and Dennis Is puffin' like a freight engine. "No Maggie here," says I. "We'll try somewhere else." No. 2 on the event card was the water chutes, and while we was slidin up on the escalator they has a chance to catch their wind. They didn't get any more'n they needed tho.ugh; for Just as Aunt Isabella has started to ask the platform man if he"d seen anything of Maggie Whaley, a boat comes up on the cogs, and I yells for 'em to Jump in quick. The next thing they knew we was scoot" In" down that slide at the rate of 100 miles an hour, with three of us holdin' onto our hats, and one lettin" out 40 squeals to the minute. "O-o-o o-o-o!" says Aunt Isabella, as we hits the water and does the bounding bounce. "That's right," says I: "let 'em know you're here. It's the style." Before they've recovered from the chute ride I've hustled 'em over to one of them scenic railroads, where you're yanked up feet first 100 feet or so, and then shot down through painted canvas mountains for about a mile. Say. it was a hummer, too! I don't know what there is about travelin' fast; but it always warms up my blood, and about the third trip I feels like sendin' out yelps of Joy. Course, I didn't expect It would have any such effect on the bishop; but as we went Blammln" around a ' sharp cor ner I gets a look at his face. And would you believe it, he's wearln' a reg'lar breakfast food grin! Next plunge" we takes I hears a whoop from the back seat, and I knows that Dennis has caught it too. v 1 I was afraid maybe the old girl has fainted; but when we brings up at the bottom' and I has a chance to turn around, I finds her still grippin' the car seat, her feet planted firm, and a kind of wild, recklass look in her eyes. "We did that last lap a little rapid," say's I. "Maybe we ought to cover the ground again,. Just to be sure we didn't miss Maggie. How about repeatin", eh?" "II wouldn't mind," says she. "Good!" says I. "Percy, send her off for another spiel." And we encores the performance, with Dennis glvin' the Donnybrook call, and the smile on the bishop's face growin' wider and wider. Fun? I've done them same stunts with a gang of real sport ing men, and never had the half of It. After that my crowd was ready for anything. They . forgets all about the original proposition, and tackles anything I leads them up to, from bumpin the bumps to ridin' down in the tubs on the THEIR VOICES. tickler. When we'd got through with Dreamland and the Steeplechase, we wanders down the Bowery and .hits up some hot dog and green corn rations. By the time I gets ready to lead them across Surf-ave. to Luna Park it was dark, and about a million incandescents had been turned on. Well, you know the kind of picture they gets their first peep at. Course, it's nothin' but white toe, CABE' stucco and gold leaf and electric light, with the blue sky beyond. But say, first glimpse you get, don't It knock your eye out? "Whist:" says Dennis, gawpin' up at the front like he meant to swallow it. "Is ut the Blessed Gates we're comin" to?" i. I By the Time We're Down They're Ready for the Repeat. "Magnificent!" says the Bishop. And Just then Aunt Isabella gives a gasp and sings out, "Masgie!" Well, as Dennis says afterwards. In tellin' Mother Whaley about it, "Glory be. Would yez think ut? I hears her spake thot name, and up I looks, and as I'm a breathin' man there sits Maggie Whaley in a solid goold chariot all stuck with Jools, her hair puffed out like a crown, and the very neck of her blazin' with pearls and di'monds. Maggie Whaley, mind ye, the own daughter of Terence, that's me brother; and her the boss of a place as big as the houses of Parli'ment ill A' . !. -J. . Fighters' Fads and Fancies HAT are the fads of pugi lists?" This question was put to a veteran follower of the ring at a local sporting resort recently with the result that he let loose a lot of Interesting talk, says the New York Sun. Ha began with Bir Jim Jeffries and went right through the whole bunch. He said: "Jeffries, for example, would rather .talk dog" than any other subject. With a few of his cronlea he will sit up hours and discuss the fine points and merits of the dog family. He owns a number of fine dogs on his farm near Los An geles. He likes game fighting dogs the best and enjoys reciting many wonder ful tales relating to his adventures with his pets while hunting wild game and animals. The big fellow would rather follow the trail of a bear or a mountain lion with his favorite dogs than attend the grandest feast in the world. Jeff does not care about matching his dogs to fight in the pit but he expects them to make good in the forest against wild animals. Most of his dogs are of the bull terrier breed, and he says they cannot be excelled. "Then Jim Corbett's fad is acting be fore the footlights. He is really stuck on the theatrical profession and devotes all of his spare time to trying- to im prove in the art. Corbett thinks the day is not far distant when he'll be hailed as a leading; man. Jim Corbett says that no writer of plays has yet been able to produce a play that would enable him to show theater-goers Just how clever he really Is. You couldn't get Jim back in the ring with a team of horses, because he thinks that such a move would lessen his prospects be fore the limelight. If Corbett has any other hobby it is baseball. He is a pretty fair player himself, and he en Joys rooting, too. "Joe Gans. the ex-Hphtwelght cham pion, is a born gambler. He has lost probably $100,000 on games of chance, and that's going some. He loves to shoot craps for high stakes and also puts down good stiff bets on the horses. Uans is also very fond of game chick ens, and has quite a few choice birds at his Baltimore home. In fact, he has fought his strain of birds in some big mains for many thousands of dollars. If Gans hadn't been such a redhot sport he could-have retired with a comfort able fortune. "Old Jem Mace, the oldest ex-cham-plon alive today he is 78 and is well preserved is quite a musician, and can play the violin with the skill of a professor. Mace", who has gypsy blood in his veins, followed the county fairs in England while a boy and without any lessons he got acquainted with the mvsteries of the fiddle. Just at present he is showing in the music halls on the other side and plays the violin as part of his vaudeville act. "Tommv Burns' fad Is money and clothes. He has the financial bee in his bonnet for fair. He has made a close study of investments and bank ing systems. He handles his money like an experienced financier, specu lating in stocks with some success. Clothes! You ought to see him all togged out in the finest suits made by the swellest tailors. When he was in England he cut such a stylish figure over there that the ordinary pugs looked upon him as a millionaire. "John L. Sullivan's net fancy is tell ing comic or alleged "comic stories. He considers himself one of the best re citers of humorous incidents in the world, and there's usually trouble for the man who does not laugh good and plenty at the proper time. Sullivan has a wonderful memory, and having been all over the world he has picked up a fine collection of yarns. Besides story-telling, Sullivan enjoys discuss ing any or all of the leading topics in his own convincing way. A few years ago John wanted to be sent to Con gress from his home district in Bos ton, but Just at that time John Barley corn stepped in and monopolized all of Sullivan's spare time, so that his grand scheme fell through. It was Sullivan's plan to fight the Republicans to a ifn ish on the floor of the House, without gloves. 'Til show these silk stocking guys in Washington something about tariff reform that'll knock 'em dead.' oil.- itllivan at the time as he pounded 1 a Broadway cafe bar until a hundred and finer than Windsor Castle on th King's birthday!" It was Maggie all right. She was sittln' in a chariot, too you've seen them fancy ticket booths they has down to Luna. And 6he has had her hair done up by an up holsterer, and put through a crimpin ma ohine. That and the Brazilian near-gem necklace she wears does give her a kind of a rich and fancy look, providin' you don't get too close. She wasn't exactly bossln' the show. She was sellln' combination tickets, that let you in on so many rackets for a dol lar. She'd chucked the laundry Job for this, and she was lookin' like she was glad she'd made the shift. But here was four of us who'd come to rescue her and lead her back to the ironin board. Aunt Isabella makes the first break. She tells Maggie who she Is and why she's come. "Margaret," says she, "I do hope you will consent to leave this wicked life. Please say you wiH. Margaret!" "Ah. turn it off!" says Maggie. Me back to the sweat box at eight per when I'm gettin' fourteen for this? Not on your pingpongs! Fade, Aunty, fade!" Then the Bishop Is pushed up to take his turn. He says he is glad to meet Maggie, and hopes she likes her new job. Maggie says she does. She lets out too that she's engaged to the gentleman what does a refined acrobatic specialty in the third attraction on the left, and that when they close in the Fall he's goln to coach her up so's they can do a double turn in the continuous houses next Win ter, at from sixty to seventy-five per. each. So if she ever irons another shirt, it'll be Just to show that she ain't proud. And that's where the rescue expedi tion goes out of business with a low, hol low plunk. Among the three of 'em not one has a word left to say. "Well, folks," says I, "what are we here for? Shall we finish the evenin' like we begun? We're only alive once, you know, and this is the only Coney there is. How about it?" Did we? Inside of two minutes Maggie has sold us four entrance tickets, and we're headed for the biggest and woozlest thriller to be found in the lot. "Shorty," says the Bishop, as we set tles ourselves for a ride home on the last boat, "I trust I have done nothing un seemly this evening." "What! You?" says T. "Why. Bishop, you're a reg'lar ripe old sport; and any time you feel like cutttn" loose again, with Aunt Isabella or without. Just send In a call for me." (Copyright, 1908, Associated Sunday Mag azine.) glasses were smashed into a million pieces. John had some great ideas that might be for the good of the country, but the booze Boon drove them out of his head and the Nation lost a remark able statesman. Sullivan, however, has been on the -water cart for three years now, and still wants to go to Congress. " i "Joe W'alcott, the once great Giant Killer, Is a pianist. You'd hardly be lieve that, but it's a fact. He owns a house over in Boston, and when he gets busy with ragtime music the neighbor hood is up in arms. But you can bet that nobody goes to Joe's door and makes a kick, "cause they all know what the Barbadoes man has done in the prizering. One of his neighbors says that Joe can make more real noise on a piano than a dozen men in a boiler shop. "Bob Fitzslmmons' fads are-cooking and the taming of wild animals. Just now he doesn't know whether he'll join a circus as a lion-tamer or apply for the position of chef at one of the big hotels in town. Fitz does all the catering and cooking at his Jersey farm. Robert says, too, that be can cook anything from soup to nuts. When he was ac tively engaged in the ring Fitz never trained for a mill without having some wild animal as his pet. He has been bitten and torn by the untamed beasts but this has. never discouraged him atA all for Bob thinks he has some hypno tic" power over them. "Terry McGovern outsldo of the ring considers himself a great baseball player. He went South with the Giants them. He is always in uniform at the Polo grounds and thinks he will get a chance to play second base some of these days for one of the big league teams. "Jack McAuliffe Is a crank on carJ playing. He will sit in a game of hearts at sundown and keep it up until sun rise, night after night. Invariably quit ting a loser. As a matter of fact Jack is a very poor card player, but he likes the game so much that it has cost him thousands of good dollars. It's his hobby. By the way, lt's-a very strange fact that few of the noted fighters of the present day are successful gamblers, especially with cards or at playing the bank. John L. Sullivan never gambled to any extent, nor did Jeffries, Corbett, Sharkey, Fitzsimmons, Ruhlin, Burns, Britt or ilaher. The greatest of the gambling fighters- is Johnny Van Tteest, who fought around here ten years ago. He could not keep away from the green cloth and at present is dealing bank in a far Western town. "Kid McCoy has all kinds of fads and fancies. He's a promoter of various schemes. Just now he is Interested in a detective agency, real estate specu lations, automobiles and racehorses. "Be sides "he's trying to butt into society. He's a swell dresser and a.s he strolls along the Great Whito Way nobody would dare to believe that this Immacu late fellow was an ex-prizefighter. "Sailor Tom Sharkey is fond of trot ting horses. He has a stock farm over In Jersey and is something of a breeder. He can be seen on the speedway almost any afternoon behind a fast horse. Shar key is a' wise fellow in regard to money matters and knows how to hang on to-, his dollars. The roadhouse keepers make no effort to get Tom's trade, as he rare ly drinks and is not a spender. "Mutty Matthews, whose head is all banged up from hard fights, is an ex pert swimmer and high diver and is also a good horseman. He has been engaged at the Hippodrome and at Luna Park In the tank dramas for several years. I guess that's about all I know about fighters' fads, but it. ought to hold you fellows for a while at least." Hopelessly Old-Fasbloned. New York WorM: Onlv Jtit plain, homely f.tlkw. Working on from day to day. Doing any Rood can r In an unobtrusive way. Fas-hionable? Not a bit! Never sued for unra!d blli; Nevpr have affinities; Kop nu motor tar that kiliR. Don't g;t famous tlironcli divon-'; Break no markets, lakft no liv. Juft kep toilinff. hunlrum. dirll For our chilUj-en and our wives.
