The National tribune., 1897-01-07

The night policeman was playing game
of solitaire in the back Office of the police
station, while the reserve squad dozed
more or less stertorously in chairs tipped
back against the wall around the room.
It was the tail end Of the dog watch, and
the policeman was eyeing the clock with q
view to moving homeward when the Sport
ing Editor strolled listlessly in. He dragged
a chair heavily across the floor regardless
of the slumbering reserve, who reused only
enough to blink reproachfully at him be-
meath their helmets. Fishing mechanically
in the table drawer, he brought out the
cigar-box full of chips, and showed half OF
them across the table to the policeman.
The latter, from force of habit, dealt brace
of poker hands, and the two, without a
word, fell into q game of freeze-out. The
Sporting Editor was taciturn, and the police
man did not question him, but played on in
silence. The reserve squad slumbered on.
The Sporting Editor had been to the En-
bassy ball. There was no reason why he
should have gone. There was every reason
why he should not. But the whim had
seized him in the afternoon. and he told the
Society Editor that he would call for her and
her last batch of copy about midnight, and
escort the two down to the Office. The
Society Editor was used to his ways, so she
told him she supposed he would do as well
as a district messenger boy, and he conld
come if he wanted to.
The Sporting Editor had prize fight on
hand across the river that evening" which
precluded the possibility Of his attending
the ball in evening dress. He had his own
clientele with which he had to keep in
touch, as well as the Society Editor had
hers. and he could not risk the friendship
of Dudney and Suften and Shanty McFin
by obtruding a claw-hammer upon this
fistic function Of the Excelsior Club. Be-
sides, he had prejudice against full-dress
and conventionalities, SO he never missed an
opportunity of shocking the latter by neg
lec;lng the former.
He wrote up his fight by rounds at the
ringside, and turned his copy in early.
Then, sumnoning old Jones, the rubicund-
nssed pilot Of the trustiest and rustiest
night-lner on the Thirteenth street stand,
he drove up to the Embassy.
It was a night to be remembered in the
social world. 1t was not every Winter that
the Princess deigned to grace these republi-
can shores, and her entertainment was q
point of honor and diplomacy with the
h"O"SsauO. consequently, VIZ CtASSso WV
side the Embassy about midnight have been
Tattersnlrs with the roof off, for the display
of the finest hackney horsefesh and most
eminently correct turnouts in the city. The
harness chains rang in unison with the iron
hoofs on the asphalt, and the monogramed
and enameled loin cloths of the horses
flashed as their liveried drivers threaded
their way back and forth under the cold
CLEAN of the arc-lights.
driited ont from the wide, open doors Of the
Embassy, vibrating to the strains of the
dance music inside, as the Sporting Editor,
with his storm coat tapping about his heels,
briskly mounted the velret-covered outer
stairs r
The brilliant automaton in crimson-and-
blue that guarded the outer portal drew up
in questioning hauieur when searching
glance had failed TO detect the regulation ex-
panse of shirt from inside the newcomers
great coat. But the Sporting Editor, who
was curiously particular in small matters
while he neglected the greater, drew deli
cately-engraved card Of exactly the right pro-
portions from quaintly-chased card case,
with the icy assurance that had carried him
through more than one mining strike and