The Arizona sentinel., 1889-01-12
EXCUSE ME.
No Excuse Is Better Than a Good
 One.
Luke Sharp Gives Rising Young MHn Some Sound Advice, and Tells a Story in Support of
 His Theory.
"EXcuse me. '"

Certainly. Pardon me.
 heard the above snatch of conver- sation the last time Twas in New York It occurred in the evening at the New York end of Brooklyn Bridge, which, at that hour, was crowded with men hurrying home. The snatch of con- versation reads rather like a polite re- mark and rejoinder. It was any thing but that. The first speaker was push ing and elbowing his way forward, when he trod on another's corns. The second man swore and glared around, when the first said, suavely: Excuse me"
 The wounded man like atlash struck out from the shoulder, knocked the other in the middle of next week, and replied:
 Certainly. Pardon me-"
 The striker rapidly disappeared into the gathering gloom before the struck recovered himself sufficiently to shout police"
 The moral of the incident seemed to me to be that in some instances ex- cuse don't ''go."
 The other day a boy about fifteen years of age called up at my room and said, after introducing himself, that he wanted advice.
 About what?'' asked.
 About nothing in particular" he said, as he fumbled somewhat nervously with his hat. You see, it's like this: 1 want to get along in the world and l would like to know what-well-l would like some advice.
 This was such an unusual request from a modern American boy that it quite took my breath away. Most of the boys who come up to see me don't want advice-they want to know where to get cigarette pictures or tick cts to some game.
 looked at the boy who wanted ad- vice. He had a fresh, honest face, and felt had no hesitation in setting him down as good boy who would probably make his way in the world Well, my boy" I said, seriously, .'there is one thing I'd advise you to quit. If I was you, I'd stop getting drunk and raising a racket on the streets at midnight and getting run in. That's my advice"
 "Inever touched drop of liquor in my life," said the boy, with so pained an expression that I W as sorry had spoken in this way to him.
 Don't smoke, l suppose2"
 No, sir"
 .'Chew, snuff; any thing of that kind?"
 ''No, sir"
 ''Read flash novels?"
 No. sir. '"
 ''Swear?h
 No, sir.
 "Fight?"
 "No, sir. ."
 "Well,' I said, 'that's all very un- fortunate for nae. If you have any vices it would help me out if you tel me what they are. If you committed burglary as a relaxation or sand bagged friend occasionally it would make my task as adviser much easier As you don't do any of these things I'll think over the matter, and if you come up tomorrow I'll, perhaps, SC, my way clearer than l do now"
 The boy thanked me, although knew I did not deserve any thanks Next day he called again. In the in terval had remembered the inciden on Brooklyn bridge. Now, the ma said Excuse me- and had been knock ed down.
 Well, my boy," I began, my ad vice is this: Never make an excuse There is a proverb which says: 4 poor excuse is better than none. That adage is as wrong as mos of them are. Even good ex cuse is not better than none There are thousands of people il this world, my boy, who are magnifi cent architects of excuses. Some c them manage to get along brett well building up imposing excuse and letting others do their regu lar work, but they never amount t much in the long run. No one eve depends on a man who is good at e2 cuses.
 When l was in Chicago last summe the city editor of one of the paper there told me this story, which vii show the advantage of not having a excuse:
 Some years ago a green-looking fe low appeared in the city editors roor from no one knew where and wanted job, The city editor told him. as h