Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1905-02-25
Introduces MY Hero.

Il YOU will carefully observe any map of
the world that is divided into inches at so
many miles to the inch, you will be sur
prised as you calculate the distance be-
tween that enchanting Paris of France
and the third precinct police station of
Washington d. G., which is not enchant-
ing. 1t is several thousand miles Again
If you will take the pains to run your
glance no doubt discerning, over the police
botter at the court (and frankly, / refuse
to tell you the exact date of this whimsical
adventure), You will note with even greater
surprise that all this hubbub was caused
by no crime against the commonwealth of
the republic or against the person of any
of It's conglomerate people. The blotter
reads In heavy simple fist, "dlsorderly
conduct" a phrase which Is almost as en-
bracing as the word diplomacy, or society,
or responsibility.
So far as my knowledge goes there Is no
such person as James Osborne. If, by any
unhappy chance he does exist, | trust that
he will pardon the civil law of Washington.
my own measure of familiarity, and the
questionable taste on the part of my hero
hero, because, from the rise to the fall
of the curtain. he occupies the center of
the stage in this little comedy drama, and
because authors have yet to find happy
synonym for the word The name James
Osborne was given for the simple reason
that 1T was the first that occurred to the
Culprits mind. desperate effort did
he make to hide his identity. SuppOsing
for the sake of an argument in his favor
supposing he had said John Smith or
William Jones or John Brown? To this
very day he would have been hiring lawyers
to eXtricate him from libel and false rep
resentation suits Besides, had he given
any of these names, would not that hound
like scent of the ever suspicious police have
been aroused?
To move round and round in the circle
of commonplace, and then to pop out of
1t like tailed comet! Such is the
history of many mans life. l have
a near friend who went away from town
one fall. happy and contented with his lot.
And what do you suppose he found when
he returned home? He had been nominated
for alderman. 1t is too early to predict the
fate of this unhappy man. And what tools
fate uses with which to carve out her
devious peculiar patterns, An Apache In
dian. besmeared with brilliant greases and
smelling of the water that never freezes,
an understudy to Cupid? Fudge! you will
say, or Pshaw! or whatever slang phrase
is handy and prevalent at the moment you
read and run.
1 personally warn you that this is n
reailytruly story, though l do not under
take to force you to believe it; neither do I
purvey many grains of salt. If truth went
about her affairs laughing, how many more
persons would turn and listen! For my
part, j believe it all nonsense the way
artists have pictured truth The idea Is
pretty enough, but so far hitting things.
it recalls the woman, the stone and the hen.
/ am convinced that truth goes about
dressed In the dowdiest of clothes, with
black-lisle gloves worn at the fingers, and
shoes run down in the heels, exact por-
trait of one of Phil Mays lydies. Thus 1t
is that we pass her by, for the artistic
sense In every being is repealed at the sight
of a dowdy with weeping eyes and nose
that has been rubbed till il is red a
winter apple. Anyhow. If she does go about
in beautiful nudity, she ought at least to