The sun. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1833-1916, 1897-12-27
HEINBOCKEL CLUB MOURN.
NO PLNoCHLE FOR TREAE TIN MIG HIT
HAHNS DIED.

n Fund to Bury Him-The Grateful and
Thirsty Messenger OF Death ataErersd or
with the ~Aaoney-Now Hahns lzns Como hack
Ten members OF the Heinbockel Pinochle Club
were seated around tho big table In tho little
rear room Of the Heinbockel Hotel. out In what
they call Heineville. at Gates avenue and Broad
way. williamsburg.
Carl Heinbockel. the President and standard
bearer Of the club, wore an expressionless face.
With his head bent forward he stared at tho
floor as If trying to get an X-ray glimpse of the
interior Of tho beer kegs in the cellar. Now and
then his eyes blinked.
Frank Ibert the Williamsburg brewer, was
seated on two chairs staring at the ceiling and
vainly attempting to clasp his hands over his
equator. Big Jim McChesney, who is known as
the Irish pinochle player, broke thetilence. He
had learned enough German to say:
"what is loss nit Hcinbockel and Iberti
Cannot nit we play a spiel tonight !"
Keep quiet" said Heinbockel. IT got such q
headache since I heard the news. 1t is Of inter
est to all of you, gentlemen"
why you not tell all den 7" asked Henny, the
barber.
YES" added McChesney. "out with It. I
know the barber is just dying for q headache.
Go ahead and tell it."
"Ill whisper it," said Heinbockel, and no
whispered in Henny's car.
"Ach my, what n shame" exclaimed tho bar.
Der. "shentlemens ;" he continued. II will said
it to you which Mr.. Heinbockel whispered on
nv ear. He feels blue on it und I know We all
will yet feel bluer. Mr.. Iberts heerd 1t so
soon he came round tonight, but 1t is o
s~orrowfully sad case. We arc on our
regular meeting night, und I presume der re-
sponsibilities oof der occasions to say dot-I
cant hardly not speech 1t oudt,dot,I will
tween half past / O'Clock dis afternoons"
"Hahns dead!' exclaimed the club members
Why left him at 1 o'clock this morning."
II spokeHcd 70 him at 10 o'clock to-day" re.
felt Vorser in his lie before e. r. Gie We we're &c IN ne der
Wei" he's dead" 5 said Hieinbookel. with a
sigh; ,o ,. n.
Bring US a drink. iE~rnstNhe's dead.
He was 2 damn fine Dutchman-that's what
weren't he a fine pinochle playeri What q
shame such a good plays goes on dyingI|
We're his life insuredf"
don't Know said tho President of tho
'It vere." said Henry. it we're insured in one
twenty t'ousand dollar when you live to hun
dred years old, und your wife gifts der rest when
II want me own rest when 1 die" said Nc
Chesney. the Irish member of the club.
He means der insurance rest Of der money"
in Hahps's case his wife get not a cent, cause
he didn't pay up der policy" That, .w.
heard his wife didn't have a cent in the house"
Yes" added Heinbockel. the mans outside
S We 1 oSa 1ar t %r raise se, &c su %s snG he~ to a bnr ne thinks thinks
Ill go SO on it for Hahns's funeral" said
iii add two more" remarked Heinbockel.
Count me in for ten" said Brewer !bert.
thTus ST Fh his han hand int his pocket; "hers's ten
drink; Erast-it,s too bad about Hahns-Ernst,
why don't yer call der prescription man in Z"
suggested Hcnng. the barber.
Yes, call him in" said Heinbockel.
The bartenCsr beckoned to the man at the bar.
md he entered the pinochle room. He was a tall,
thin. c%onsumptiye looking fellow with a streaky
red mnst&Ghe. He talked in sepulchral tones,
Yes" he continued solemniy. poor Hahns
hand while he was dying. The last, words he
said were: Tell them I died unhaPPIly because
SHToo b ad'" said ibert, g Slancin ga at the ceiling.
d d1GT oad Too eo ona E Whai s bring Soh TINS re,t gentlemen ut 3
seldom touch it-but-poor Habns is dead"
The funeral subscription paper was produced.
just threw dollar bills at Hahns's friend.
u";C66mee. what H you going to have = said
1t was midnight when tho club adjourned. and
Hahns,s consumptive friend st igGered out on
the sidewalk and buttoned his coat over the
funeral money in his inside pocket.
Christmas eve the club members assembled.
not to hold a business meeting, but for the sake
of the glasses on the bar and the tinkle OF the
push-button bells from the pinochle room told a
lips got dry saying: Come. what are you going
to hayef' Ibert had worn the nails from three
OF his myers pushing the button and McChcs-
ney got blue in the face shouting. Let us have
another"
". I ,at I-,.lnul --o. - "a
remarked Henry the barber. and when no