davidaulloa/AmericanStories huggingface dataset:
Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-07-23
The Wise Tailor.

ST1E late Goodwin Smith," said a
} magazine editor, "exuded good ad-
vice on all occasions.
You know how BARRIERS, in their desire
to Sell tonics and pomades. make coarse
and insulting references to their patrons
badness? Well, a Montreal barber once
criticised the condition of Prof. Smith s
hair in that way, saying:
'Hopelessly bad as your scalp looks.
sir. my scalpene-dandruffia will fix it
up
1.-THE aged philosopher flushed and re-
torted:
"'You are very foolish to point out your
patrons physical defects. That saddens
and displeases them. 1t doesn't make
them buy. 1t drives them away and they
will never return. You would be wiser,
my poor fellow, to initiate a successful
downtown tailor. This man says to every
patron as he takes his measure-he says
it to fat and lean, short and tall, alike:
Its an extraordinary thing-of
course. you already know it. sir-but you
have exactly the same measurements as
the Apollo Belvidere.
Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-07-23
Critics Went WRONG.

cd EERBOHM TREE said a h.adel.
- phia critic. has no very high opin-
ion Of dramatic criticism, and he tells .
little story to back up his point OF view.
Tree at the beginning Of his career
undertook the part OF the blind Col. Chal-
lice in Alone. Tree was a very nervous
man In those days. He was always for
getting his lines. But as the blind COL
onel he seemed destined TO be particularly
nervous and therefore he arranged with
the prompter that on the first night.
whenever he forgot a speech, he should
snap his fingers as a signal for help.
The first night came. and Tree forgot
his lines continually. His fingers snapped
all through the show ike unendrng
pa :age of frec-ackers. He thought his
career was doomed, but the next morning
all the critics said of him unanimously:
Mr.. Trees artistic study OF the blind
Col. Cnallce was a revelation. Never be.
fore have the habits and thoughts OF the
blind been so carefully analyzed and 20
faithfully portrayed The entire stccy
was perfect even down to the nervous
twitching Of the fingers and the ANXIOUS
listening as though loss of sight mae
hea ring all the more dear.
Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-07-23

at night. And of course you-everybody
can see what is happening to the poor
old bonehead. Dying on his feet, that's
what's happening to George. Literally
dying standing up.
why, say he wheezed. getting more
dreary all the time, If they could show a
moving picture Of that poor old slob's in
ternal machinery it would be the great
est temperance lesson Of the age. I'll
bet everything inside of poor old George
stopped working months ago, and now
he's just living on the suds. Oh. we'll
oh. well" and he gazed sadly at the mu-
raj decorations back of the bar an6
breathed heavily into his glass
Poor old Tom, still profoundly de-
pressed about the state Of poor old
George, went his path a few minutes
later on, and then gang sitting at one
of the rear tables called me over.
THE gang sitting around that table
was made up of about seven. and all of
EN- were there with that quick working
in-one thing that showed how long they'd
been squatted there making rings with
the bottoms of their glasses. After about
an hour of rapid-fire stuff the party be-
gan to break up.
First man to leave was a chap who
only. leans against the old brine about
twice year, and then he makes bust
ness of it. He wasn't SO bad of. though.
when he made his getaway. and he didn't
appear to've got a good start yet. But
when he passed out the remaining six
shook their blocks sadly.
Isn't it a rotten shame? overheard
a lot Of 'em mumbling to each other.
and so, out of curiosity, drilled in with
an inquiry
What is 1t that's too bad? I asked
'em. though / had a bunch on what was
coming
why. the way poor old Ed naming
the one who'd just moOched out. is dish
Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-07-23

dainty verifiable, SO appealing to human
interest, so open to dramatic uses, that.
as a theme. it has become a staple in
| literature. In recent fiction Mr.. Kitchens
and Mr.. London. too. have in special ap-
plication used this thought amazingly
we'll in relation to both man and beast.
And now. Mr.. Royle. sequence, with
out doubt, in his preparation for THE
the Indian race-call to a half-breed half
son. An Indian reservation, a govern
ment agency. and the general surround
ings create the eXternals through which
the story moves in the full flavor of ia
mliar western circumstance. The chief
person in this current is the young half
breed, a sturdy, handsome, interesting
fellow, who contributes to the involution
of the plot an English education and
training, supplemented by the personal
effects of an early. ill-starred English
marriage. In complement to this indi-
viduality is that of full-blood Indian
girl. beautiful, educated and consecrated
to. the high purpose of uplift to her race.
These make the elements of substance
and influence from which is drawn the
struggle between two races for the pos
session of a man. The potent factor in
this call of race. the love episode is
which it springs and thrives. features of
character. action. place. impress one as
dramatically and vitality good. True.
parts of the local color are spread SO
close to yesterday that they splash over
into tomorrow. Example: Certain as
phalt lands, a national resource. become
the subject of conspiracy and fraud. A
wide-mawed trust is at hand, alert and
predatory. At hand, too, Is the noblest
conservator of them all. certain Mr..
Clifford, head of the forestry service,
equally alert. but predaceously virgin.
The slang man would say that this eco
nomic episode gives to the story a right
hot-off-the-plate SAVIOR; less ready people
speak of 1t a journalistic ardor of
anticipation. Despite an occasional touch
like this one. of almost raw newness, the
story a whole stands clearly among
the good ones on this theme.
THE RUST OF ROME BY Warwick
Deeping. author of 1.-THE Red Saint
etc. Frontispiece by A. c. Michael
New York: Cassell & Co.
A slender historic thread, made by the
unearthing of relics of the Roman occu-
patton of Britain. traces the evolution of
this uncommonly good story. Two own
ers of adjacent lands, man and a wom-
an, make, by accident and at about the
same time. the stirring discovery upon
their holdings of perfect parts of Roman
villa. The story, thereafter. moves
through the intrigues of the mana rob-
Der baron in type and method-for sole
possession, and through the discovery and
successful resistance of these by the
woman-a very efficient, attractive girl OF
modern mold. Besides these two, as an
Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-07-23

American novel than Mr.. Garland, with
his intimate acquaintance with the great
west. his keen love of nature and his
exceptional ability as story teller. Yet
even Mr.. Garland has failed to make
the most of his opportunity. He has pre-
scented a vivid picture of the new west.
has drawn clearly the contrast between
the west of today and the west of the
and lawlessness. In series of character
sketches and brisk episodes he renders
vital his concept of the new west, the
land of opportunity and of law, just COM
ing into its changed relationship. AS
story. however, i'Cavanagh'' is disap-
pointing. 1t has q certain flavor or ro-
nance in the attachment between the
young, handsome, fearless, enthusiastic
forest ranger and the daughter of a
coarse old harridan of a hotel keeper in
is abundant action the story reaches its
supreme climax in terms quite disas-
ISOLATED with the main theme of forest
preservation. 1t is just short of fulfill
ment in respect of structural strength.
Furthermore. 1t may be doubted whether
the full requirements of such a tale are
served by presenting as the two chief
male characters. and as the most in
telligent representatives of the forest
preservation policy. a couple of English
men. The suggestion naturally arises
that possibly in Mr.. Garland's mind 1t is
necessary to look to an alien stock for
our forest guardians. suggestion that
would doubtless be promptly refuted by
Clifford Pinchot. whose eloquent introduce
ton to this volume stamps it with a
semi-official seal Of approval.
THE VARMINT. BY Owen johnson.
author Of ARROWS Of the Almighty,
etc. New York: The Baker & Tay
lor Company.
Mr. Johnson's earlier stories, 1.-The Hum
ming Bird" and THE Eternal Boy" have
prepared the way for this new boys book,
which is calculated to become the favor
lite of the year. In a remarkable degree
the author has rendered in print the at
mosphere of boys preparatory school.
The slang of the students is so accurately
reported that no one can doubt that the
author has himself passed through this
phase of the educational process. Every
boy in this story is real and human. The
pranks the youngsters play upon one an
other and upon their teachers are whole
some and have a basis of humor that
saves them from vulgarity or brutality.
a fine corps spirit. which is the best re-
suit Of education away from home. There
is not a dull moment in this brisk, truth
full narrative.
full and Fearless Utterances on Va
rious Subjects Selected and Ar
ranged by Alan Warner. With a
Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-07-23
Copyright, 1910.
By the Century CompanyD

They left him some ships biscuit and
bacon, and set out down the well marked
trail toward the glacier. He had told
himself, as he watched them departing,
that now at least his duty toward them
was done. He would rest awhile. and
then enjoy a long. calm sail across the
ice and sea to Point Barrow.
There was no fog in the great valley
along whose edge the glacier lay. and he
thought when he took wing that he
would be able to get last view OF the
yacht and make sure that she was still
safe before he started
So when he crossed the great line OF
cliffs which formed the coast, he was
both surprised and disappointed to ind
a dense gray cloud Of vapor celebrating
everything. II was all quiet enough
down there, though. They were all right
There couldn't be any doubt of that.
II made him shudder now. as he sat
there at the feet of the girl who slept
SO quietiy-as he sat there and listened
To her slow. steady breathing, IL made
him shudder to think how nearly, for a
her. What il that terrified cry of hers
had gone unheard? What IL Roscoe
He sat stiff1y erect and rubbed his
eyes like one trying to get rid OF a
nightmare; then. with a long expiration
of breath, he settled back again.
III his wings had betrayed him once
before, they had made their compensa-
ton In that moment when the girls cry
had come up to him. through the fog.
Without them he could never have
brought help.
She told him she had cried out to him
to him, Philip Cayley. And his heart
admission came back to his mind, and
the declaration of faith that had gone
with il. Well. he had his reward. All
those lonely years in Sandoval: all the
\ IL
of them: all the heart-hunger, for which
ne had sought an anesthetic in the sky,
were paid for now and made profitable
In these hours he had had with her, and
Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-07-23

This time, however. 1 was jerry to
it, and / beat him to it.
And so you feel as sorry as all that
about it, hey? said I, just to skid him
along.
"Whereupon he shot me a quick lock
of scrutiny.
Why wouldn't feel sorry?' he asked
had been enc employed by his pal only a
few minutes before. Why wouldn't l..
hey? George and l have been clubbing
around together, off and on. for-lemme
see-oh, for only about a hundred and
wouldn't l feel sorry and things
Then l did a front-drop feeding num-
Der by pulling the silence thing, and he
went on shaking his bean and murmur-
Why, say said he, IN bet you
anything you want. and lay you 2 to l.,
that poor old Georges liver is as big
as a nine-thousand-dollar Satsuma jardi-
Mere. if not bigger. and about four times
harder. Why wouldn't 1t be, the way
the poor old lob dredges into the stuff?'
Then I took to the headshaking thing
myself. just to give him chance to go
through with it.
Worst of it is. the poor old dill won't
listen to anybody he went on. still in
that muff1ed. dismal way. All of the
bunch-all of us-have taken our turns
herding George into a corner and trying
to show him that he couldn't drink the
stuff uD Eastern they could make it
WIKI he gummed long. I've slipped
him that one myself time and again, and
hotter ones still. But nix. No good.
George, he listens and takes it all in good
part. and says that perhaps he is grab
bling out more of the stuff than is his
share Of the boot juice. But that's all
the good it ever does. Very next day he's
on the job again. tossing EN- at his mech
anism at the rate of about twelve per
hour, or one per five minutes. from the
time he opens. his lamps in the morn
ing till somebody lifts him into the shucks
Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-07-23

while he is a bit or rounder ana
therefore en- rapport with most Of the
main figures Of the blazing way. is and
always has been a non -drinker. Hav-
ing said this Of him. I am going to re-
port his conversation as he Embossed 1T
upon me.
"The thing that twists itself about
my thorax." he muttered, the inter-
rogatory light strong in his eye. lis the
way these rum battlers converse about
each other.
Perhaps, however, you don't make
me- / am raving in this way because
OF several varied messes of talk that
were waited at me when ] dropped
in yesterday afternoon for one Of those
see-and-hear sessions at one of the
moistoriums where they all go at about
5 o'clock in the afternoon.
when i blew in there l found pair
of rather classy cooks that / knew
leaning against the breast-high barrier.
licking up elongated things, grabbing
for the checks as they came out of the
hopper and exchanging the most init
Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-07-23

hep to it that poor old Tom-one Of
the best fellers on the main line, too
has been arranging for pickle finish
for the last year.
"'Worst Of it is he went on. dismally,
nobody understands it. It's one of those
puzzle things to all hands. But he
stumbles along, day in and day out,
leaning up against the old stuff, not like
human being. you know. but like a
Cherokee with a lot of new government
money. and of course he won't be able
to stick around much longer, the way
he's rapping it.
".Gosh all fish hooks he went on, get
ting mournfuller every minute, the stuff
poor old Tom does insert under his pelt
in the course of one lunar day. Oh.
well. oh. WE'LL! and he sighed and shook
his head some more and eased in some
more gulps oue of his frosted glass and
looked inconsolabl about it.
We'll. just at this point poor old Tom.
as he called his pal, came galloping back
from his office and joined us again. APP
parently he'd only gone to his office to
put his head under the cold water spigot.
for he looked as fresh and slick as a
lizard. and he promptly encircled two of
the things he'd been nibbing on before
he'd made his getaway. After a few
minutes Of buzzing the one who'd been
so SAD ABOUT Tom gave a peek at MS
watch. said something about phoning the
spouse that he'd be late for dinner on
account of being excessively overworked
at the Office, and beat 1t.
Scarcely was his back turned before
poor old Toms features began to warp
into an expression of the deepest dejec-
ton. and the first thing / knew he, too,
was shaking his head from side to side
like somebody that had just been told
by renowned stomach specialist that
it was cancer and there was no hope
whatever.
Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-07-23

other person of account, is a Thoreau-
like man, seeking through solitude and
labor to forget what the world has done
for him, and serving turn, incidentally.
the trio without which few stories can
move a peg. There is no theory to estab-
lish here, no problem to solve. 1t is
merely an account of the reactions upon
dents that lie along the way to a common
material goal, with friendship and love
and hate and revenge as expressions of
these reactions The marvel here is that.
having chosen this remote. limited.
moor as the field. the author. in an I'M
commonly long story, packs II to the
hedges with spirited incidents of the be-
lievable sort, and of a variety, too. un-
looked for in this level tract. A wonder,
also, that with but three people of the
first rank and scant half dozen of the
second order, he. through the vividness
and varied outlook of their personalities,
covers a populouS area OF human interest.
SO that at no place in this long stretch of
events does the story sag from its taut
hold.
ASTIR, A Publishers Life Story BY
John Adams Thayer. Boston: Small,
Maynard and Company.
Aladdin would have been slow coach in
these swift-moving days. Hundreds of
examples in every days work could be
cited to prove 1t. The author here makes
striking illustration of the fact in his
stirring record of the mere matter of
magazine making, seemingly a simple
and prosaic process, but here revealed
as a marvel of accomplishment. In per-
feet candor and with the warmly per-
sonal touch so strongly appealing, save
to the so-called scientific mind, Mr.. Thay-
err gives the ms and outs of his career
as publisher. Advertising. special de-
partment but in his case an overlapping.
in-tucking one, out of the authors ex-
perience and under its handling here,
takes on character Of high value as
information in this modern and wholly
open field. Important men in the maya
zine world-managers, editors, writer's
are brought into this recital in a new
light, divulging and most interesting.
Ones feeling at the close of this life
story is that of keen qualification that the
author gave UP the design of making this
work posthumous, q repellent thought in
face of this warm, full-handed personal
intercourse.
CAVANAGH, Forest Ranger; Romance
of the Mountain West. By Hamlin
Garland. author of THE Captain OF
the Gray-Horse Troop" etc. New
York: Harper & Brothers.
No one could have been expected to do
better with the subject of forest conserva-
ton as a theme for a typical modern
Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-07-23
lobby Of the building. The following are
titles added during the last few months:

lobby Of the building. The following are
titles added during the last few months:
French Literaturs.,,...g
Adam. Nine. Edmond. Paennc. 1853. Y3aP
Assoisnt. Alfred. lie Plus Har,i des, Gueux.
Bsrres. Maurice. Colette Baudocks, - YssF-
Belot. Adolpbe. lie Chantase. 1854 % Y3sF.
Bouraet. Paul. lie Fan,cme. 1901. Y3sf-
Reurset. Paul. Idyne Trasique. 1895. SsoF
Bourket. Paul. Irreparable. etc. 1899. fssF
er nc' t 1881. Yae- Bss sp' "
Bouvier; Alexis liza Loio'tc ct Compagnie.
Bowler Alexis Petite Duches.e. 1854.
Brehaf. Alfred de. Amoureux de vinst Ans.
| 1876. Y39F B'4lam.
snsrsne. Victor H,ss N'' Meta oideni. 1856,
ciaretie, Jules L'ob-s.ion. 1905 Yssr.
Dostoevskii. =. NJ. Garnet dun inccnnu.
Dabut de- I.aforesi. J.SL.s Mademoiselie de T.
Du Boissobey. Fortune. Collier d.AcIer. 1888.
Tormsni: Maxine. Princes,e de venise.
Gyp. petit Bot. 1852 Y3aF -Gsav
kohut. Adolph. Bismarck ct les femuss
si LsIgsse r1ans T. d 1884,, ci!ss5nf
Msizeroy. Rene. vile glamour. 1924. YssF
| M2SSv.
Mcilhac Henri. and Halevy. Lsldoyic. Frcu
| Frou: a comedy. 1870. Y39p-M4T3f. Ed.
Mendes; cntulie. chemin 'du coeur 1895
| Mirabeau NJ dc G. Comtesse de. Imperatrice
| Wanda. 1855. Y3aE M672i
! Monterin. \. A. de. herthetet Gcorsette.
'S Snnet' '' Georges rs crepu.eule 1902 YssF-
J Oh4cr.
| Ohnet. Georges. Dernier Amour. 1889. Y3sF-
Ohnct Georges. Droit tdc rEnfant 1904.
Y3aF -Ohidr.
Pommerol. Nine. Jean. vierees dAilleurs.
Provost. Marcel. Cousinel Laura 1894. YssF-
P924c.
Rinof G C. Observation-Disclosures ct Noureau1
| Pastels. +Y39- RJ26s.
! Jo Ha'" Bobsmiennc 1875. Y.sF -ssssj.
Sand George. Meunieri d Angibsult. ed. With
| int PRODUCTION. notes and vocabulary by j. W.
| Kuhne Y39F- Sa5mek.
SchciYer Robert. Misere RoRlc 1893 Y39F-
i Sch23im.
Sheppard. Nathan. EnfermeIdans Paris. 1877.
simon. Jules L'ovriere. 1862. KWXesiss.
Soulie. Frederic Deux Csdavres. 1870.
| Tinseau Leon de. Princesse Errsnte. YseF-
Tissot, Victor and Amero Constant CON-
| tesse de Montretout. 1879. Y39F Iy,aSc.
| Verne Jules. Chateau des Carpa hes. Y39f.
v596cha.
Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-07-23

in the memory Of them that he would
take away with him. 1t could be moth
ing more than a memory; that he knew
full well. The girl had practically ad-
mitted as much when she had urged him
to clear his name of the old disgrace
that stained it,
He could not take her faith in him and
use it for a cloak. The world, as she
had said. had to walk by sight Unless
he could convince those two Fanshaws.
for instance, of his innocence OF the old
charge. as the girl had convinced them
Of his innocence Of the later one-unless
he could do that-why, with the coming
Of morning, with the coming ashore of
a boat from the yacht, he must say good
bye to her; must let her go out Of his
life for always.
The yacht would sail away. he would
fiy back to Point Barrow. However bit
ter that parting might be, he knew that
he would always have something Of her
that he could keep-the humanity which
her faith had given him. He hoped she
would let him tell her so when they
for the boat to come ashore. He would
not tell her any more than that. He did
not mean that the parting should give
her pain-he wanted to bear all that
himself But he hoped that just once
she would give him her hands again and
let him kiss them.
Warmed little. oOmforted a little with
that hope. and oppressed by complete
cXnauStlOU, he iciI dSiccp ne
knew. at least, that he must have done
so. when. rousing with a start and
springing to his feet. he saw a ray of sun
shine splashed golden upon the opposite
wall Of the hut. 1t must have been light
for hours.
Very silently. very cautiously he I'M
barred the doors and pulled it open. Be
fore opening the outer door he drew his
revolver and spun it's cylinder under.
| meath his thum-nail. If the repulsed
party from the Walrus were camped
| near by, II would be well to be cautious
| before accommodating.
He pulled the outer door a little way
| open and glanced slantwise up the beach.
The brilliant light dazzled him and made
| II hard to see, but apparently there was
] no one there. Stepping outside, he turned
Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-07-23

around his oxfords took another gulp out
of his glass to ameliorate his grief and
began on that conk-shaking thing again.
Now, say, look a-here,' l had to say
jigsaw talk you're pulling now, or what
is it? What makes Tom poor? How long
has he been poor? And if he's poor, how
about the rest of u.s.. Come on. now!
Hurry up! Shoot! If it's a laugh uncoi
it.
This time he staked me to the plug
ged antelope gaze 1t was the most re-
proachful gaze you ever saw. Then said
he:
oh. say. dye mean to stand there
and dish it up to me that you don't
know that poor old Tommy is drinking
himself to death?
Yep. That's what he said. Just like
that. And. examining him closely l
could see that he didn't mean it for a
wheeze either. He meant 1t for the real
stuff. And while he was getting that
out of his torso, mind you. the 100
proof stuff was standing out in concen-
trated beads on his own forehead, and
he was nodding to the barkeep to min
gle him another one of the same.
4
"'Oh Toms drinking himself to death.
is hep said I. pumping for better
line on the mystery Tom is. is he?
How longs Tom been doing that
Now look here. you quit that Osca-
loosa knockabout stuff said he to me
in a real reproving tone. Quit it at
once. Are you endeavoring to kid me 2
Nothing like that, l told him. I in
formed him tha. l hadn't an idea on
earth that Thomas was nudging him
self toward cash-in by the lick-it-
up route.
Huh, you're one of these deep ginks
and you're getting worse at it all the
time, said he to me then. Why, every
body from both street to the Park is