Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1906-08-25
ILLUSION OF BOYHOOD
Sentimental lunches for the
Old Home.
PICTURE OF MERRY DINNERS
Turned Down by Old Boss and Made
to Feel Chilly.
HUNG UP FOR TRAIN ROBBERY
Never Coin to Feel Gulpy Any More
or Take Stock in out-in-the-
Snow Music.
PICTURE OF MERRY DINNERS
HUNG UP FOR TRAIN ROBBERY

or Take Stock in out-in-the-
Snow Music.
III you ever have one of those sentiment
tai lunches to go back and take a look at
your old boyhood home. think 1t over a bit
before falling for it, observed the prosper
ous-looking, portly man OF forty in the
smoking compartment OF the sleeper
illusions begin to slough OF pretty fast
when fellow commences to buy seventeen
and half collars for himself and when he
gradually becomes aware Of the fact that
he possesses such thing as a stomach
that won't stand for everything and when
he looks with CONSERVATION at the large
amount of combings In his hair brushes
after the most gentle and dainty use of the
same; but some illusions are worth hanging
on to II you have to fight to keep them.
and the boyhood home Illusion is one of
them. I'm illusionless in that respect now
because I've just taken a peak at my boy
hood home. wish hadn't done It. When
you go back to the boyhood home you're
pretty likely to find at the very outset that
you're nothing there: that your grown-up
playmates are rather bored by the sight of
you, and the dreary truth forces itself upon
you that your old boyhood home is nothing
to you, and that 1t will never again mean
anything for you. Maybe it doesn't work
out that way always. But that's the way
1t worked out In my case.
Found myself in st. Louis recently with
three or four days to wait for a deal to
mature, and then the bunch nailed me to
have look at the boyhood home because
wasn't very far from the place. It's q
town on the west bank of the Big Muddy,
our old name for the Missouri river. had
a mental picture Of merry II not hilarious
meetings with the old boys and girls. of
little talk-it-over dinners with them and
drives through the cool woody fragances
OF the old roads. and all that sort of thing
took sleeper at midnight at St. Louis
and got Into the old place about 10 o'clock
the next morning. First time I'd been
there for pat twenty-five years.
Diminished to Quarter Size.
I'm not going to say anything about how
sQuaiid and common and mean and ornery
the town and all Of its streets looked even
under the brilliant sunshine Of the cool
August morning; Of how strangely small
all Of the well-remembered buildings
seemed-they'd diminished to only about
one-quarter the size I'd been fancying them
All these years; Of what wretched howell
the main hotel. that I used to consider
such marvellous and palatial establish
ment, proved to be. Those things were
rather to be expected. But I didn't expect
the bunch Of Establishments with respect
to the folks I'd known in the boyhood days
Il didn't make myself known at the hotel
as returned pilgrim when I registered
there because the slipshod hostelry had
changed hands four or five times in the
quarter Of century since I'd left.
First place I dropped into was the old
cockroachy, rat-infested telegraph Office
and 1t looked exactly the same as 1t had
looked when I'd worked there as messen-
ger boy during the school vacations even
down to the Shiny inkwells and the gritty
impossible pens on the dirty counter where
folks wrote their messages.
Who's running the old plant now?' I
asked the towheaded chap who walked up
to the window to see what wanted
sulkily.
Old man Bifkins7 He isn't alive YETI
Why, he was about hundred and fourteen
when used to work here said gayly.
don't know anything about any old
man Bffkins, as you call him. he came
back at me. getting more surly every
minute. Mr.. Bifkins is the manager here.
He's busy now
is that Mister Bifkins sitting back yon-
der at the desk? 1 inquired. somewhat
"'Yes, said the towhead, walking away
from the window.
"'Well, say. I'll be obliged to You IL
you'll be good enough to take my card to
him. called after the towhead. I figured,
correctly, that this Bifkins must be the son
Of the old man who'd been manager In my
day. That son was about my own age. and
he'd been the boss messenger around the
office when I worked there.
don't know him-what does he want9'
heard the Bifkins Of today inquire of the
towhead.
81 dunno-says he used to work here or
something the towhead replieu.
THE present day Bifkins, without looking
up to have a peak at me, finished the Job
OF writing he was engaged on, while, con-
siderably depressed. shifted from one leg
to the other out in front of the window, and
then, tossing his pen down as If he was
kind O. mad, he walked up to the window.
INV are your he said, without offering
me his hand. Got your card, but don't
remember you. Operator says you said
you used to work here. Thasso? How long
agoT
ago. said. with fine off-hand air. Used
to hustle messages around town after you'd
copy 'em and stick 'em into envelopes and
write the addresses. Member me, now?
I had the nickname Of Club then
Couldn't Seem to Get Him.
"I knew lot O. Chubs' said Bifkins, the
Been a lot o. youngsters here y'know
Comm and goin all the time. Hw'are you
maxim out?'
pretty fairly told him, though felt
right chiIled,-I sure did. He hadn't offered
to shake hands or anything like that Was
dropped into town to have my first look
around the old place since leaving it.
Well, reckon you'll find 1t about the
same Bifkins said, with the faintest kind
of a grin on his wrinkled and grizzled
chops. Not much change. Well, glad to've
seen you. Right busy this mornin'-some
behind in the work. Drop In as you come
by If you feel like it, and Bifkins backed
away and I backed out into the sunlight.
I am bound to say that the sunlight, al
though it was pretty warm, felt like the
wan sunlight Of November.
Il took one of the side streets then, and
presently came upon old man Gibson. He
didn't look a particle different, although
when he opened his mouth 1 saw that he
was toothless. He didn't awaken when 1
clomped up the porch steps with a tread
made especially heavy so as to arouse him.
and had to walk over to him and touch
him on the shoulder.
Hey? What Is 1t. What's the matter?
said old man Gibson. in a bewildered way
opening his eyes and pushing back his hat
and bringing the front legs of his chair
down from the tilt-back.
How do you do. Mr.. GibsonT ! said to
him. holding out my hand He took my
hand and gave 1t the fabbiest kind of
shake.
Don't want nothin' t'day.' he said. Not
thing. Nope. No crackers nor ginger
snaps either. Can't sell me no goods Of any
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