Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1906-08-12

because there's a whole lot of difference be-
tween being an orator and talking common
sense. But he stood in with society. He was
no New YorSer-none of them were, or we
couldn't have made that kind of slum litera-
ture for them-butI heard he used to be a
decent young fellow in Philadelphia or some
place before he got bit by the low-life bug.
Every night he used to make us believe we
were regular heroes in disguise and had us
looking for our swords like them tinware
knights you read about. But he was all to
the mustard as long as you knew how to savvy
him. And his hair was parted IN the middle
because he was wise that the biggest head of
hair don't always cover the biggest genius.
He's still writing, but he's reformed. No more
of the low life for him, only plays and other
swell stuff from out of his head.
Like the rest of them, he got it into his bon
net one night to give one of them stunning
parties under his personal conduction. We
were next, and there was nothing but rank
realism round Barney Flynns that night. 1t
a shame, though. the way it wound up.
They'd been staring at us for about an hour,
and at last made up purse Tor us before they
started to go. The brilliant young man hands
me the dough, and the minute they're gone
we made for the bar to divvy up and blow.
Naturally, soon they were gone we
dropped all that foolish nonsense and talked
like our own selves, and not one of us noticed
the favorite author coming back with few
of his friends to look for pair of gloves one
of them ladies lost. Well, say, they heard u.s.
and one of them says to the promising young
author:
"You ought to get another medal for this
of leather"
And since then we never seen the brilliant
young man again. and we're willing, in spite
of the prices of the Beet Trust, to Kill a little
fatted calf for him.
Passing of the Guide
ID UT they wasn't all of that kind. There was
- one that's travelled a whole lot, and when
he got back to Gods country he thought he'd
take rest where the real men are-with us.
He used to write them peculiar stories that
used to make women cry and the men blow
their noses. He never made any grand
stand plays and we never rubbed it into him,
because he, like us, was on the level. Only
one thing used to bother him-our souls. No,
he was preacher or missionary, but he
thought it was for our own good.
dig for your souls, boys, dig for your
soulsi" he used to cry; but they didn't try
much for fear it. tickle them too much.
He was a man in million, and that bright
afternoon, when they took him over the bridge
for the last ride, we, too, were there in coach,
and loads of sweet fowers-the kind he loved
with us.
And let me give you the tip right here, a
good, square man is safer in the slums than in
one of them uptown clubs. You can protect
yourself against blow, but there's pro-
lection against back-biting lie.
Well, if we had loads of them literary people
come down to look us over, the other kind,
the sports-may l be forgiven for lying?---
also used to come and make life pleasant and
bearable for us. AS Barney Flynn's was the
literary emporium, so was Steve Brodie's the
sporting resort on account of the fighting
pictures hanging round the place and the fact
that once real fighter came in and asked for
match for his cigar. And speaking about old
P T. and humbugs, l can't help thinking of
Steve Brodie and his bridge jumping. But
he's dead this long while and so you got to
keep mum, for it amt right to roast guy
that can't defend himself.
1t was in the old days before them boxing
laws was invented, and there were so many
| athletic clubs that all the kids threw up their
decent, honest jobs to become regular knuckle
pushers. There was nothing bashful about
Steve Brodie, and very few sightseeing
parties got past his place. Of course, them
fight pictures was an attraction and so were
the different suits in which he's been jumping
overheard more or less: but it got necessary
to frame up some more live attractions and
| SO he got together the homeliest, tartest bunch
of suspected athletes you'd ever seen. l
ought to know, because l was one of them
And because of my histronc ability l got to
be the star of the aggregation.
Beginning of the Pugilist Show