The Washington herald., 1919-03-06

New York. March 5-Thoughts while
riding on top of bus going down
Fifth avenue: Funny. they don't trust
these conductors and make you put
the dime in the slot yourself. This ar
ought to bring color to my cheeks.
Somebody said in the pool game last
night | looked like sick prune.
There's Glare Briggs, the cartoonist.
Funny-looking little guy and always
smoking cigar. Hope he invites me
out to his home made OF ship tipbers
in New Rochelle again ne:l summer,
Look at that funny cropd attending
the rummage sale next to the Coils
p. Huntington-or Is 1t Collins?-home.
Charity! Charity! What crimes in thy
name. 1 read Of some woman buying
a lorgnette of gold there.
Gosh, look at this big guy. He'll
take whole seat to himself. Wonder
how he got UP those narrow stairs.
Looks something like Willie Gerdes I
used to know back in Cincinnati.
Much better than a taxi. Can't see
the town from taxi, and those driv-
ers are so rough. Cheaper. too. I
must begin trying to save this month.
Last month l didn't save a cent But.
then, what's the use in saving? Bill
Johnstone, of the World. says he Is
going to write an article some time
called THE Folly of Thrift A cork
ing title.
That reminds me must stop at
Brentano's and get a copy of John
ston's book, ''The Apartment Nexe
Door" 1t Is just as popular as that
Apocalypse thing. How many horse
men in It? / never can remember.
see where one critic says Johnstone
has written the best mystery book OF
the age. and nearly everybody has
read it but me.
Not very long before prohibition.
Imagine having to talk to some women
at dinner without a cocktail. Ten
wounded soldiers in a block. There
goes II. B. Warner, the actor. in
yellow overcoat and a blue linen col
lar. Funny how actors dress. I think
I'll get one of those blue collars.
though. Kinda New Yorky.
I'never see that Washington Square
Arch without thinking OF Stanford
White who designed 1t. Wonder what
has become of Harry Thaw. by the
way? Greenwich Village again. I'D
like to go over to see that Jolly jug
tea room. Understand they have an
open fireplace and bobed haired girls
in sandals wait on you. Still it's no
place for a married man. Yes. I'll go
home. Here comes the conductor
again. Zip! goes another dime.
After Catherine BreshkoYsky, the
S0-yesr-old Little GRANDMOTHER of the
Revolution, made her plea for Ameri
can aid at Carnegie Hall. she was In
danger of being affectionately mob
bed.
To keep her from being handshaked
and kissed to death. she was hustled
into an ante-room and locked up until
a taxicab could be secured. One of the
group in the room asked II she wanted
anything.
She looked thoughtful for a mo-
ment and then ultra-reformers re-
ceived terrible blow in her reply.
Yes" she said, with the smile that
survived thirty years in shackles in
Siberia: Il should like to have a
cigarette"
A moment later there was a sigh OF
content from behind curling smoke.
Night birds OF the tenderloin and
the midnight sons of Manhattan have
been wondering what will become of
Jacks when the fizz-cal year ends
July !. For years Jacks front door
was never locked. All the gay
sprites of the town foregathered
there. Tad, the cartoonist, and his
ukulele band held forth in the Bat
tllng Nelson Grill. Upstairs were the
notables of the sporting world-nevsr
leaving until sun-up. Jacks is an IN
stitution. When prohibition comes a
fo ~ .e 60 srrl,.
running He will have a coffee house
and restaurant. He was a waiter
once himself and is worth a half mill
lion. His name is Jack Dunstan