Santa Fe daily New Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1885-1897, 1896-07-27

I'm dandy man, as you can see,
Dressed in the latest sty-ale.
The ladies' hearts are sure to break
When OH them do smi ale
My life would be all sunshine
And would e'er be gay
If the boys didn't yell as I walked past,
He has whiskers made of hay,
Whiskers made of hay-y-y,
Whiskers made of hay-y-y.
Oh when they see that bunch
The horses want to lunch
On them whiskers made of hayi
''That's the worst I ever heard" said
Larkin as he turned to his desk again.
But he was not to escape so easily. The
invisible Bobby Allen almost immedi-
ately broke into second verse; which, if
such thing could be possible, was more
wildly idiotic than the first Larkin
chewed his pen and listened to the second
verso and the chorus, tho latter being
varied sufficiently to give the information
that the man with the whiskers was fire.
quently mistaken for a goat.
IL suppose that fellow is rehearsing for
some entertainment, said Larkin. II
hope he doesn't take it into his head to re-
hearse very often. That must be the la
test popular song It's bad enough to be
popular"
1t was perhaps two minutes later when
Larkin heard the following announcement
made in loud voice, Mr.. Bobby Allen,
the we'll known comic singer, will now
render his latest success, entitled He Has
Whiskers Made of Hay"
CHOW what in thunder" exclaimed
Larkin.
Then that calliope voice again, this time
with piano accompaniment:
I'm dandy man, as you can see,
Dressed in the latest sty-ale.
The ladies' hearts are sure to break
When on them do smi-ale.
My life would be, etc.
Once more the singer went through two
verses, this time repeating the chorus after
the second verse. Larkin sat with his feet
on the table and wondered what kind of
place he had moved into.
The whole building had relapsed into
absolute silence and no sound could be
heard except tho broken rumble of Madi-
son street, and even that was much soft
ened by distance. Larkin reflected that
if he were at all superstitious he might
conclude that variety performer had been
murdered in therold building at one time
or another and had now returned III spirit
to make life miserable for the tenants.
It did not seem possible that any sane
man would be bawling comic songs in
such a manner merely for his own enter
tainment Larkin knew there was no au-
dience present. Even on the supposition
that ''the we'll known comic singer" was
rehearsing new song there seemed to be
fo, %ho YooO
each time.
"There must be a private lunatic asylum
in this building" That was Larkin's
conclusion as he nervously began to mako
the entries in his order book. Before he
had written six lines the entertainment
was resumed.
"a comic story entitled 'Casey's Trou-
bles, by the we'll known comedian, Eddie
Farrell" was the announcement.
Larkin groaned in spirit, but he had to
sit back and listen. The story was In
Irish dialect, of the kind that is heard on
the stage:
"Oi wuz wockin down Clark strate this
marnin, whin OF met me old frind Mool-
cahy. Siz he, 'Oi wuz down to your
house Yesterday. Siz OF, why the divil
didn't ye COON in!' An, siz he, Sure, OF
don't know where ye live! Will, sir, OF
niver see such mon as Moolcahy," etc.
Larkin was something of an Irishman
himself, and this style of entertainment
went against the grain. He was mad,
vexed and puzzled. Not only was he dis
tracted from his work and pestered by a
continuous show, but he was beginning
to doubt the evidence Of his own senses.
That story teller went ahead in high sing
song voice for several minutes, telling bad
jokes, and then he turned in and told
them all over again.
Maybe I won't sec the agent of this
building tonight!' exclaimed Larkin,
throwing down his pen and pacing excit-
eddy up and down the room.
Another announcement was being
made, "Mr. Bobby Allen, the we'll known
comic singer, will now render his latest
success, entitled He Has Whiskers Made
of Hay"
This was the last straw. Larkin bolted
into the hallway and pounded against the
door of the first room across the hallway.
"Say!" he yelled.
The singing continued, but a big man In
his shirt sleeves opened the door few
inches and said: "Shl Keep still there
whats the matter with you people9'
Ssh! Ship
Larkin pushed his way into the room
There was the singer, small, baldheadet
man, standing in front Of big phonograpl
funnel, into which he was shouting hi
lines. There were monographs on table,
all around the room. Larkin understood
the situation, and he retreated without Of
fering word Of explanation. He went tt
his room and put on his overcoat. AS b,
came into the hallway the --latest success
was once more being announced TIL,
agent Of the building said the phonograpi
people had a lease.
"Well," said Larkin, II wouldn't stay
In that room all day for $50. I'll NOV,
again. "-ChiUago Record.