The Washington herald., 1915-09-19
r HERE are many kinds of fools. Now.
will everybody please sit still until they
are called upon specifically to rise?

dle SdHcu upOh SPeSiliSdiy " iiSC-
had been every kind of fool except one.
I had expended my patrimony, pretended
my natrimony, played poker, lawn-tennis. and
bucket-shops- parted soon with my money in
many ways. But there remained one role of
the wearer of cap and bells that had not
played That was the Seeker after Buried
Treasure. To few does the delectable furor
come But of all the would-be followers
in the footprints of King Midas none has
found pursuit so rich in pleasurable promise.
But, going back from my theme while
as lame pens must dol was fool of the SEN
timental sort I saw May Martha Mangum,
and was hers. She was eighteen, the color of
the white ivory keys of new piano, beauti-
full, and possessed by the exquisite solemnity
and pathetic witchery of an unsophisticated
angel doomed to live in small, dull, Texas
prarietown. She had a spirit and charm that
could have enabled her to pluck rubies like
raspberries from the crown of Belgium or any
other sporty kingdom. but she did not know
it, and did not paint the picture for her
You see. l wanted May Martha Mangum
for to have and to hold 1 wanted her to abide
with me, and put my slippers and pipe away
every day in places where they cannot be found
Of evenings.
May Martha's father was man hidden be-
hind whiskers and spectacles. He lived for
bugs and butterflies and all insects that fly or
crawl or buzz or get down your back or in the
butter. He was an etymologist, or words to
that effect. He spent his life seining the air
for flying fish of the June-bug order, and then
sticking pins through 'em and calling 'em
names
He and May Martha were the whole family.
He priced her highly as fine specimen of the
rocibus hutuanns because she saw that he had
food at times, and put his clothes on right side
before, and kept his alcohol-bottles filled
Scientists, they say are apt to be absent
minded
There was another besides myself who
thought May Martha Mangum one to be de-
sired That was Goodloe Banks, young man
just home from college He had all the attain
ments to be found in books-Latin, Greek.
philosophy. and especially the higher branches
OF mathematics and logic.
If it hadn't been for his habit of pouring
out this information and learning on every one
that he addressed. I'd have liked him pretty
we'll But, even as it was, he and I were, you
would have thought, great pals.
We got together every time we could be-
cause each of us wanted to pump the other for
whatever straws we could to find which way
the wind blew from the heart of May Martha
Mangum-rather mixed metaphor Goodoe
Banks would never have been guilty of that.
That is the way of rivals.
You might say that Goodloe ran to books,
manners. culture, rowing, intellect, and clothes
I would have put you in mind more of baseball
and Friday night debating societies-by way of
culture-and maybe of a good horseback rider.
But in our talks together, and in our visits
and conversation with May Martha. neither
Goodloe Banks nor l could find out which one
of US she preferred. May Martha was nat
ural-born noncommttal. and knew in her cradle
how to keep people guessing.
AS l said, old man Mangum was absent
minded. After long time he found out one
day-a little butterfly must have told him
that two young men were trying to throw a
net over the head of the young person.
daughter, or some such technical appendage,
who looked after his comforts.
I never knew scientists could rise to such
occasions. Old Mangum orally labelled and
classified Goodloe and myself easily among the
lowest orders of the vertebrates; and in Eng