The Tomahawk., 1916-11-30
ECCENTRIC
MR.QARK
WJAMES WHITCOMB RILEY

All who knew Mr.. Clark intimately,
casually, or by sight alone, smiled al
ways, meeting him, and thought, what
an odd man he is" Not that there
was anything extremely or ridiculously
obtrusive in Mr.. Clafk's peculiarities
either of feature, dress, or department,
by which a graded estimate of his
really quaint character might aptly
be given; but rather, perhaps, it was
the curious combination Of all these
things that had gained for Mr.. Clark
the transient celebrity Of being very
eccentric man.
And Mr.. Clark, Of all the odd inhab-
itants Of the busy metropolis in which
he lived, seemed least conscious Of the
fact of his local prominence. True
it was that when Familiarity addressed
as "Clark, old boy" by sportive indi-
viduals he never recOllected having
seen before, he would Oftentimes stare
blankly in return, and with evident
embarrassment; but as these actions
may have been attributable to weak
eyes, or to the confusion consequent
upon being publicly recognized by the
1uondam associates Of bacchanaltan
hours, the suggestive facts only served
to throw his eccentricities in new re-
lief.
And in the minds of many, that Mr..
Clark was somewhat given to dissi-
patton, there was but little doubt; for,
although in no way, and at no time,
derelict in the rigid duties imposed
upon him as an accountant in whole
sale liquor house on South John street,
a grand majority Of friends had long
ago conceded that a certain pufliness
of flesh and soiled-like pallOr Of COM
plexion were in nowise the legitimate
result of overapplication simply in the
counting room Of the establishment in
which he found employment; but as
to the completely of Mr.. Clark's direct
associates in this belief, it is only JUS
tice to the gentleman to state that by
them he was held above all such sus-
picion, from the gray-haired senior Of
the firm, down to the pink-nosed por-
ter of the warerOOms, who, upon every
available occasion, would point out
the eccentric Mr.. Clark as "the On'y
man in the biznez at never sunk
thief err drunk a drop O goods o
any kind, under no consideration"
And Mr.. Clark himself, when play
fully approached on the subject, would
quietly assert that never. under any
circumstances, had the taste of intox-
icating liquors passed his lips, though
at such asseverations it was Il notice
able fact that Mr.. Clark's complexion
invariably grew more sultry than its
wont, and that his eyes, forever moist,
grew dewier, and that his lips and
tongue would seem covertly entering
upon some lush conspiracy, which
in it's incipiency he would be forced
to smother with his hastily-drawn
handkerchief.
In point of age Mr.. Clark might
have been thirty, thirty-tive, or even
forty years, were one to venture an
opinion solely by outward appearance
and under certain circumstances and
surroundings. AS, for example, when
a dozen years ago the writer OF this
sketch rode twenty miles in a freight
raboose with Mr.. Clark as the only
other passenger, he seemed in age at
first not less than thirty-five; but on
opening conversation with him, In
which he joined with wonderful VI
vacity, q nearer view, and prolonged
and studious one as well, revealed the
rather curious fact that, at the very
limit Of all allowable suppoSition, lis
age could not possibly have exceeded
twenty-five.
What it was in the man that struck
me as eccentric at that time l have
never been wholly able to define, but
l recall accurately the most trivial &C.
currences of our meeting and the very
subject matter of our conversation.
I even remember the very words In
which he declined drink from my
travelling flask-fOr TITS raw day."
l said, by way of gratuitous excuse
for Offering it. EYES," he said, smil-
ingly motioning the temptation aside;
'it is a raw day; but you're rather
young in years to be doctoring the
weather-at least you'd better change
the treatment--theyI all be raw days
for you after while!" I confess that
/ even felt an inward pity for the
man as laughingly drained his health
and returned the flask to my valise.
But when I asked him, ten minutes
later. the nature of the business in
which he was engaged, and he hand
ed me, in response and without COM
ment, the card of q wholesale liquor
house, with his own name in crimson
letters struck diagonally across the sur
face, I winked naively to myself and
thought "Ah-ha!" And as if read
ing my very musings, he said: "Why.
certainly, I carry a full line of sam
pies; but, my dear young friend, don't
imagine for a minute that I refuse
your brand on that account. You can
rest assured that I have nothing bet
ter in my cases. Whisky is whisky
wherever it is found, and there is no
best whisky-nOt in all the world y
u &lss