Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1912-10-06
Around the City

Over at the National Museum there is a
portrait of a man in buckskin and
beads. He stands, palette and brush in
hand. before a canvas on on easel. and
for background there are Indians in
warpaint and a vista of wigwams and
sky.
A tourist and his obvious bride halted
before the picture yesterday, and the
man said, with that large and fruity
complacency that comes from knowing
everything: Z
"Ah, here is George Catlin, who wrote
the Indian dime novels-famous old scout
in his day.
The obvious bride smiled pridefully up
at her newly acquired font of wisdom.
and the two passed on.
And to a woman who stood before the
| portrait it seemed-almOst-as II the
| grim eyes flashed humorous conscious
ness of the fact that for one man, any
how, he had painted red tribes In VAIL
You cannot always come across an H.
Illustration to picture an impromptu tale,
but it happens now and then. To wit:
1t was tale of woe. voiced py d
| woman who was also we'll tailored. she
was telling the woman who walked on
the curb side how much trouble she was
| always having. The curb-woman re-
minded the woe-woman that trouble Is
the history of the world: that people
have had troubles since Adam, and that
, they will keep on having trouble until the
| day of that coming gentleman whom we
all know indefinitely as the last man.
| "Oh, of course, but / don't mean the
| ordinary, legitimate sorrows of life. m
talking about the individual disappoint-
ments that seem to be my exclusive pof-
lions. 1 can't think any other woman
on earth has ever had as much 10 con-
| tend with as l have.
That's because you can't see under
the mask. You know what thenpld verse
says: The heart may weaY thorns,
though the brow be garlanded with
II know; but / seem to be set apart
| somehow Why, I never succeed In a
single ambition l set my heart on! l
wanted to be a singer and had no voice.
At the art school | was the only one IN
the class who couldn't draw a straight
line, and when 1 tried to write-why.
| failed-at everything"
| THAT is because your appreciation is
greater than your creative ability. If
all Of us were performers on the ;. "orio
|. But don't want to go way back ana
sit down. 1 want limelight and encores-
and fame. But Eli never succeed in
any of my longings. Just as l have "a
goodness, what's that child bawilns
| about?'
He was crumb of a child IN slip
and baby socks, and as the two women
wounded feelings he left of crying to
whimper in tear-choked tribulation:
81 saw-a birdie-hoppin' onny-pa 'ment
an wunned to-pick f-up-an 1t
II isn't often you can find in the street,
| without looking for it, SO apt an illus
| tration of the folly of trying for a thing
| beyond you. but
herself" would make what Kipling, and
Homer before him, would call another
story.
No matter how smart you are. you can
not make an everyday match burn on
windy corner. 4 man who looked wise
enough to write dictionary. tried to
light his cigar in a forty-knot breeze and
failed. He cooped his hands. but the
fame fared out. He used the crown of
his hat and the inside of his coat and
cooped his hands again. but the wind got
ahead Of him every time-and you could
see he was getting cussy-mad when
woman came blowing along. She was one
of those dear ordinary souls who carry
an umbrella Suitable either for rain or
sum-" and, quite as a matter Of course,
she stopped, raised her protean gloria
and said to the man:
See if this won't help
The man. struck match under the
sheltering ribs. lit his cigar smiled his
thanks and the woman blew on again.
And in her heart was the gratifying as
surance that the man was thinking to
himself:
THAT'S a mighty sensible woman! Not
much on looks. but"
1t is always satisfactory to feel that
one has made a favorable impression.
A man had paid his dollar. got comfort |
ably fixed on sightseeing auto and
was taking hi0 first look around as the
had tha int
Hold on, driver. let me out! l want to
see how they are fixing this street-Im a
road builder myself. when I'm home
The megaphOne youth suggested to the !
make the trip first and then come back.
But the road builder knew his own mind |
That's all right about the money. I'm |
a good loser, and I'd rather see thece men |
can show. Good day, all! Hope you have
a fine time
For an hour he stood around watching
the bedding Of granite blocks in the
trackway. the grinding OF gravel and the
covered the ground from where laborers
were prying up chunks of old asphalt that
looked like gray whitleather to where |
other laborers were rolling the new street |
and sprinkling it with whity-brown sand
And on his face was the satisfaction Of
one who is getting the worth of his
money.
A batch of tourists boarded an Avenue
car. The women got seats, but the men |
had to stand. One of them--an old farm
err person-kept guard near the conductor,
so that he could remind him every half /
minute not to forget to stop when he
came to 9th street. The conductor didn't |
forget, and as the car halted the farmer
person, after the fashion of fOlks-accus- /,
toned to calling across the open, shouted
at the top Of his lungs:
n
Every woman jumped up as If she were
the one who had been called But when
they were on the street and sorted out |
by the men of the party it was made ap-
parent that the stooped-over one with a |
knob Of gray hair. bonnet strings and !
voluminous black alpaca was officially en-
titled to the call.
OF course, honey is suggestive of |
bees and black mammies, but as the two
old people locked arms over to the pave
ment 1t seemed, somehow, to suit.
Rio Nowcnonor