The Washington times., 1913-01-20
Brother and His Wife Are
keenIy interested in Tradi-
tons Of Rural People.

n| o you think" says l to Mrs.
- OIcott, that you could get
him to sing My Wild Irish
Rose?'''
DO you Think says she to me, that
you could keep him from 1t
If had one wish I'd ask to be in the
wishing chair in Erin's green isle. Then
I'd press my palms fat on the broad
stone arms and wish for the power to
translate Chauncey Olcott into type,
preserving. with the help of the saints,
all the blitheness and blarney of that
sweet singer. Then I'd wish post
script to let in all the fays and fairies
and enough devils and banshees to mel
! low the atmosphere, enough roses to
sweeten II, and enough music to set It
a-jingle.
After trailing him through day that
/ had mo warmth-no cheerfulness-no
healthful ease" and all the other NOS
! that belong to March. and carelessiy got
| into January, found him eating dinner
! with the original wild rose" as joy
Gus as a lark and as hungry as bear.
| Life has its compensations," remark
ed the singer with a smile. The other
night ] peeked through the curtain be-
| fore the performance began and / saw
a sight that gladdened my heart. The
fist two rows were full of old ladies
| looking as expectant as children at a
circus. Proud? 1 should say l was!
Olcott Enjoys Playing
To Older Women.
Mother was with me for so many
years" he AIDED, with a wicked gleam in
his big, honest blue eyes. that ! got
quite accustomed to being appreciated,
but there is a great responsibility at
tached to Il. Every time mother got to
pIIing on my halos I'd say to her:
Easy, mother. easy. It's too much Of a
load to carry. And II ever had fall
the things would crush me to death. "
Mrs. Olcott and / have a glorious
| scheme now" he said conidentially.
..We're going to Ireland and settle down
. In one of the small villages with the
, peasants. We're going to be one OF
them. OF course, one is right. light oil
! my life: aren't VIC married? Wen wear
the cheap. common clothes they veal
and live as they do and have the time
, of our lives. Nobody Will have tbs
slightest idea who We are or anything
: about us. and when we come back we
know the quaint folklore that neveI
E travels except from mind to mind.
t "Fron, heart TO heart" said Mrs. OIL
q cutt. cautiously as though the Viilager
might hear them conspirine.
"On the way to our little thatche'
cottage continued Mr.. Olcott. we
take lust a little rest in the WISHING
/ chair. sat there once and wished L
be happy and successful. My wish cam
true
| Two hands Immediately went unde
the table and produced some choicG
mystic knocks.
Knock a Spirit On
| The Head and He Dies
"Ab. ha.' said. 'you know the su
. rerstition: Knock spirit on tine hea'
e he dies. Tickle his toes and ne lives
5. hu ndred years.
"who said that?" questioned Mr. %
e colt quickly.
II IL don't know
n Put in the mouth of an lrishma
and ming it in the interview.
!" did YOU kiss the Blarney stone?
C. ventuIcd 10 ask
IS 81 did not replied the gentlema
lr nromntly. Nor do | intend to unt
1. ttev take men down IN an electric ell
20 yrtor. Fancy hanging over the edge ,
% q precipioe 100 feet deep and leaniH
Is across as II you felt you were on II
le rack TO kiss a stone. Nobody but
,r blithering idiot would do such thins'
ID "J hone to see the good little pee
ple in ireland when we live with IL
neasants.- whispered Mrs. Olcot
he while her husband was forgetting II
as Blarney stone. ] confessed my ignol
e. ance.
:, Don't YOU know the good little pei
ple?'' said Mr.. Olcott, in surprise. "IO
20 simply must. You know they can
~ to ireland in this way.
Is hope 1 have the story right. :