The San Francisco call., 1910-09-25

knows that he is down and out. The
gods have given him every gift except
the supreme gift of knowing how to
use his gifts. He lacks the knack of
getting on. In the swirling tide of life
he is but piece of battered driftwood
tossed hither and thither as the un-
needing current lists.
That man is the impersonation of
pathos. Tragedy indeed is here, not the
tragedy that has a sublimity in it's
blacknesS, that quickenS the pulse and
wins even unwilling admiration, but the
tragedy that evokes the contempt of the
many and the pity of the few. What an
odd thing is sympathy after all? We
feel for the man who has played for
high stakes and lost even though he
has juggled with loaded dice: but for
the man who has not staked his all,
who has hung back, for what reasons
we know not from the roulette wheel
of life, we have naught but a shrug Of
the shoulders and a heartless smirk.
Yes. in Mr.. Shabby Genteel, standing
here on the after deck of the creek
boat, there is tragedy indeed. 1t curves
his shoulders and weakens his knees,
robs his hands of their vigor and his
eyes of their glow. He is nervous. not
with intensity, but with eternal listless-
ness AS he walks slowly toward the
rail to feel the kiss of the sunshine and
to taste the tang Of the ocean breeze,
we notice that he drags his feet heav-
lily behind him. He is weighted with
the disappointments and discourage
ments of years, the setbacks and priva-
tions and harsh rebuffs of his dealings
with his fellowmen. After time he
seats himself on the edge Of a freight
truck and buries his face in his hands.
He is weary OF it all.
Some of the regular patrons Of the
nickel ferry are sociable to q discon-
certing degree; but the shabby genteel
man does not invite confidence. His
troubles are sacred to himself. No man
with heart in him could approach this
grief stricken figure In the spirit of the
interviewer and then ruthlessly set
down in cold print the story of the
wretch's unceasing and hopeless strug-
gle against the world. But one day,
drawn by a nameless fascination, fol-
lowed one of the shabby genteel off the
boat at the foot of Broadway, Oakland,
and tramped in his wake to a crazy,
old fashioned fat off Adeline street. He
ascended the stairs and as the door
opened he put out a pair of tired arms
and drew thin haired, pale faced
woman close to his breast. Yes, he is
a failure, and he knows he is failure:
but does the woman know it?
The nickel ferry Is a page out of
+.
Jingle. He is quite as unprepossessing
in many respects as the famous CAB
fest artist in the immortal "Pickwick
PAPERS" and his loquacity, like the
rain from heaven, falls upon the just
and the unjust. He is no respecter of
persons. The supreme craving of his
life Is an audience to play to and any
old audience will do.
Not always is his talk Silly and in
consequential. For all his verbosity
Mr.. Jingle has some big ideas. One
trip on the plodding Thoroughfare
should be enough to convince any rea-
sonable person that this scarecrow of
q chatterbox, out at knees and elbows,
is an authority on the single tax and a
firm. supporter of Secretary Knox as
regards the Manchurian railway He
looks unkind1y on woman suffrage and
thinks there is altogether too much
athletics in our colleges nowadays.
And he talks rather well. At times he
gets his lenses mixed and he uses "I'
in the objective case, but on the whole
his command of words and his way
with words excite admiration.
And yet here he is, crossing the bay
on the nickel ferry. He is obviously a
man with brains and aggressiveness;
certainly he is man with a vocabQ-
larry. Why is he here? He is not at
tending a funeral and he is not mil.
lOnalf6 Trying W iAiAu ous hoW the
submerged tenth live. His old gray
coat, spattered down the front and
falling into shreds at the cuffs and with
one greasy button hanging disconso-
lately by single thread, these and the
general air of poverty which, despite
his assumed Jauntiness and his native
vivacity, clings to him like an evil
plague, these tell US why he Is here
He is one Of the many to whom 5 cents
are Five Cents.
He needs little urging to talk about
himself. He is self-made man, he is.
/. Didn't get much chance at books as a
youngster back in Wisconsin, but liked
to read and plugged right along. Came
west ever SO long ago. Might be rich