The Washington times., 1906-04-15

umental piece Of fool
ishness everybody sa. IS:
Send for Jesse Holmes"
Jesse Holmes is the Fool-Killer.
OF course. he is a myth, like Santa
Claus, and Jack Frost, and General
Prosperity, and all those concrete
conceptions that are supposed to
represent an idea that Nature has
failed to embody. The wisest of
the Southerners cannot tell you
whence comes the FoOl-Killer's
name; but few and happy are the
households from the Roanoke to
the Rio Grande in which the name
OF Jesse Holmes has not been pro-
nounced or invoked. Always with
a smile, and often with a tear, is
he summoned to his official duty.
A busy man is Jesse Holmes.
1 remember the clear picture of
him that hung on the walls OF my
fancy during my barefooted days
when l was lodging his oft-threat-
ened devoirs. To me he was a ter
rible old man, in gray clothes, with
a long, ragged, gray beard, and
reddish, fierce eyes. l looked to see
him come stamping up the road N
- cloud of dust, with a white oak
staff in his hand and his shoes tied
with leather strings. | may yet
But this is a story, not sequel.
1 have taken notice, with regret,
that few stories worth reading have
been written that did not contain
drink of some sort. Down go the
fluids. from Arizona Dicks three
cacious Oolong that nerves Lionel
Montressor to repartee in me
"Dotty Dialogues" So. in such
good company l may introduce an
asinthe drip one asinthe drip,
dripped through silver dripper,
orderly, opalescent, cool, green
eyed-deceptive.
Kerner was a fool Besides that,
he was an artist, and my good
friend. Now. if there is one thing
on earth utterly despicable TO an
other, 1t is an artist in the eyes
of an author whose story he has
illustrated. Just try it once. Write
a story about a mining camp in
Idaho. Sell It, Spend the money.
and then, six months later, borrow
a quarter decent magazines please
be still), and buy the number con-
tanning it. You find a full page
wash drawing of your hero. Black
Bill, the cowboy. Somewhere in
your story you employed the word
horse" Aha, the artist has grasp
ed the idea. Black Bill has on the
regulation trousers Of the M. F..
H. of the Westchester County Hunt.
He carries a parlor rife, and wears
a monocle. In the distance is a
section of Forty-second street dur
ing a search for a lost gaspipe,
and the Tai Mahal, the famous
mausoleum in India.
Enough, | hated Kerner, and one
day 1 met him and we became
friends. He was young and glori-
ously melancholy because his spirits
were so high and life had so much
in store for him. Yes, he was al
most riotously sad. That was his
youth. When man begins to be
hilarious in a sorrowful way you
can bet million that he is dyeing
his hair. Kerner's hair was plentiful
AID carefully matted as an artists
thatcb should be. He was a cigar
etteur, and he audited his dinners
with red wine. But, most of all, he
was a fool And, wisely, / envied
him, and listened patiently while he
knocked Velasquez and Tintoretto.
Once he told me that he liked a story
OF mine that he had come across in
an anthology. He described it to me,
and 1 was sorry that Mr.. Fitz-James
O'Brien was dead and could not learn
of the eulogy OF his work. But most
" Kerner made few breaks and was
a consistent fool.
I'd better explain what I mean by
that. There was girl. Now, girl,
as far as / am concerned, is a thing
that belongs in a seminary or an
album, but l conceded the existence
of the animal in order TO retain Ker-
ner's friendship. lie showed me
her picture in locket-she was a
blonde or a brunette have forgot
ten which. She worked in a factory
for $8 a week. Lest factories quote
this wage by way of vindication, l
will add that the girl had worked
for FIVE years 10 reach that supreme
elevation of remuneration, beginning
at S150 a week.
KeTner's father was worth couple
of millions. He was willing TO stand
for art, but he drew the line at the
factory girl. So Kerner disinherited
his father and walked out to cheap
studio and lived on sausages fol