The Washington herald., 1914-09-13
By ELBERTINE wEsToNi

ing the foolery on the PINK snect OF
Sunday paper has always been a mys-
terry to me. but the male members OF
our family gIoat over It and would SLEEP
until high noon, / verify believe. II Con-
gress had decided to raise the No00oo.OOt
war tax by placing high value stamps
on the pink sheet. making II rroh'bitive
for the delectation of common mortals.
Why Is the pink sheet. anyway? II
only brings tears to the eyes
Last Monday morning while was
down town looking UP Labor Day rem
nant bargains and cheap odds and ends,
I chanced upon an old friend Of mine, q
newspaper man. sporty himself with the
chronic habit OF keeping his ''eye peeled
to get sport out OF everybody he comes
Iacross.
Don't you want to go to the game
this mornIng?' he said, thrusting little
red leather-covered book with dozen
| admit one's" in II into my hand.
Never saw a game in my life," quoth
I, "and wouldn't know Walter johnson
from a row Of peach trees in the dis
lance" I added.
Decide to Go.
"TherelI be somethin' doin' this week.
Take in the whole show" he generously
suggested land tell me all about II, he
sung out as he lodged around the cor
ner
wouldn't you have gone? I went.
The infinitesimal space between the
cushioned knees of a well-upholstered
matron and the unyielding back of a seat
OF a summer car afforded me standing
room only" and 1 was finally jerked to
the park.
rubbed elbows with the good-natured
holiday crowd pouring through the gates
nd runnheTRd
what could do to keep from looking as
though 1 knew more about serving mis-
sionary suppers than about the nfty-
seven varieties of baseball And where
should sit? But that question was soon
settled for me when a silver-haired lady
OF dignified mien. having two beautiful
young women in tow. said, as she hurried
past: This way, girls. always sit
near the 'dog-house.' It's the 'dug-out
for me at a baseball game. You can hear
what the Jump says, and then, love
TO be near the boys"
hung on the skirts Of that bunch. and.
believe me. that elderly lady was better
versed In baseball classics than even the
half-dozen members Of the cloth in
what mentally termed ministers row"
to my right It gave me a comfortable
feeling to be in the company Of those
pulpit orators at a baseball game. But
there were many other dignitaries in the
boxes and on the grand stand-Congress-
men who weren't being docked s3o.a per
day, and Senators galore; ambassadors
and legation officials, throwing on war
worries, and three high-brow members
of the board of education. who didn't
seem to care a tinker whether school
took in September q or not. or whether
the schoolmarms marooned In "furrin'
parts made lint bandages or taught the
young idea at the Nations Capital They
thoroughly enjoyed the game, and yelled
throughout like Apaches on the warpath.
Guy Who Knows Baseball.
On my left was a scrawny, angular
man with locks so gray that he must
have had a hirsute hemorrhage every
time he patronized barber: his mouth
slanted up backwards toward the tops Of
his ears, giving him the uncanny. per-
petual grin of the Laughing Philosopher,
but that man knew baseball like the
multiplication table. As the game pro-
gressed he offered to share his score card
with me, but he had filled It 50 full Of
crosses fractions, and .''tit-tat-too"
marks that deciphering hieroglyphics or
q Chinese puzzle would have been child's
play by comparison. looked 1t over
and wondered why a bust Of Benjamin
Franklin in an inky triangle should be
the name under 1t wasn't Ben's, so I
gave 1t up.
This, ladies and gentlemen" twanged
a clownish-looking individual behind me,
'Ts the genuine Quaker City Sharkey. A
triple row of teeth in each Jaw. With one
hap of his fin, he fips the hoater over
the fuke or flies foul to Foster. He's
the pennant-eating variety, and was born
with one on the tip of his nose" he hur-
l.. -,
style. Hi, therer' he yelled in quite
another voice. mo old ring tricks here.
Only performing animal allowed on the
field is the umpire
That man famed" tinkled the silYery
voice of the siiver-haired lady. "Trot out
another OF your White Elephants!"
But the chally visaEed babbler was so
overpowered when Jack Bentley and his
white-winged Washingtons whitewashed
the White Elephants that he commits
stoned his long-suffering companion to
"snag him a dope the next time that
dope kid came around" It seems he
wanted something to drink.
Isn't it funny to have circus at a
baseball game?
That afternoon I was in my place early,
and found, to my surprise, most of my
acquaintances of the morning stripped
for action" ready for the game. Not
only hats were removed. but coats, col
lars, and neckties. while an occasional
septogenariaR relieved his shoulders Of
the irritation of 'galluses." But 1 wasn't
shocked a BIT, for II was a stuffy, smoth-
cry September aft" and everybody at
a baseball game seems to be happy and
doing the right thing, anyway.
This time a young doctor pitched for
the Nationals, but he didn't seem to
diagnose the case, so they sent
a real young fellow ito the mound" He
didn't seem to be able to give our guests
the proper dose either, SO they changed
treatment again. But-and the tale hang
ing to that pot hook is a tale Of woe"
3 When I heard that Walter johnson
was to pitch one of the games Of the
the next day, / turned in
my matinee tickets and went to the
game AS / sat in the midst of a new
bunch of young fans. I noticed one fell
low pointing out the great pitchers
young wife to the party. Curiosity
killed a cat" but women thrive on 1t, SO
rubbered with the rest
Discovers Johnson,s Jfnx.
In the first game Jim Shaw made those
Philadelphia AIS cry. Hail, Master!"
But while the attendants were getting
the field ready for the second game, a
-.e<T-l