Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1909-04-04
By Horror Cotes
Drawing by Frank Tenney Johnson

no you happen to know the Cubicuum Club
J Few do; but those privileged ones find a
tain charm in the little quaint old clubhouse on
narrow back street where traffic comes and
scarcely foot passenger goes by. but close to the
throbbng heart of the great city whose does not
penetrate this quiet precinct. though little more than
stones throw away.
If you have the right of entrance and 60 there at
midday. you will find ten dozen men seated
round long black table whose wooden primitive
is not hidden by any show OF napery. You will
find poet or two, artist novelist perhaps it
may be doctor or lawyer or a college professor
of letters, editors dramatsts or newspaper men
Perhaps all regular frequenters of the place, or
there may be guest from distance whose name is
familiar in print who to the clubs daily
luncheon, to old word that the atmosphere
of the house suggests Winstanley, who discovered
that monkeys have a language and is now studying
it's grammar the African forest used to come; and
poor old Belisario the actor constant when he
playing in the city There regular
standbys almost daily to be found there and some
who come and 60
Jennison, the special correspondent when at home.
comes several times week. but at the outbreak OF
the East years ago OF course he OFT at
once. Life moves swiftly nowadays. and man you
have not seen for year you have almost forgotten
SO that while at first he missed the club
grew accustomed to seeing else in the place
at table that belonged by genera! consent to the tall
spare with keen, deep set eyes and smooth
shaven face topped by the remains of what had once
been good crop of brown hair.
one day when he had been gone for abou, year
- the usual set at lunch. when the door opened
and in came a whose bearing seemed familiar
but whose flowing gray mustache and bushy white
hair nobody recognized. Until he spoke nobody
knew Jennson: but then there general cutlery
of welcome. The poet, sitting at the head of the
table, whose up brushed mustaches-since he
back from his summer in Germany-nake him look
like the Kaiser. rose at once with the ever ready
courtesy that marks him and stretched out his hand
exclaming:
Why, Jennison What in the world have YOU
been doing to YOURSELF
Nettleby, the young playwright the top of whose
head is like billiard ball. ewing the newcomer
through his spectacles with professional broke
out. Man alive! What kind of makeup is that !.
Bearded like pard and with wig that doesn't fit -.
Jennison laughed. No wig at ALL Netteby. 1t
won't come off unless you pull it out by the roots
shave it. I've grown new crop. that S all
But you were bald man. And what little fringe
you had was red. and now you come here with
thatch like Lear's.
What little hair had brown, red my
boy had bit of scare out there in Manchuria and
was i'll afterward. which made it grow again: but it
in you it now
The doctor the table looked interested "A
severe nervous shock sometimes beaches the hair
and 1T might stimulate its growth if the focles
not destroyed fancy. H m. yes he murmured
But nobody listened to him in the general outcry
for the story of such a metamorphosis
Jennson smiled good humoredly. Well if YOU
fellows will wait till I've fed. I'll tell the tale if you
want it. suppose I've got to account to my friends
The usual round the table talk tagged Banning,