Evening star., 1925-08-09
A New Song of the Shirt
Theme of the Poet.

when the bright days of Summer
were fading into Autumn | was
grieved to notice an occasional quar-
rel-only four shirts instead Of seyes.
or the temperance Of the abandoned
cuffs and shirt fronts ReCoucilIatiOns
followed, with tears of penitence upon
the shoulder of the white waistcoat
and the seven shirts came back But
the quarreIs grew more frequent and
there came at times story scenes Of
passionate emotion that left n track
of broken buttons down the waist
coat.
H"T'HE shirts went slowcy down 20
three. then fell TO two, and the
collars of my unhappy friend subsfded
to an inch and quarters. In
vain / layished my utmost care upon
F'ifty-six. 1t seemed 10 my tortured
mind that the gloss upon his shirts
and collars would have melted a heari
of stone. Alas, my every effort at
reconciliation seemed to fail
"An awful month passed, the false
front and detached cuffs were all back
again; the unhappy lover seemed to
glory in their pertidy. At last one
gloomy evening, | found on opening.
his bundle that he had bought stock
of celluloids. and my heart told me
r.
''Of what my poor friend suffered
at this time | can give you no idea
suffice it to say that he passed from
celluloid to a blue flannel shirt and
from blue to gray. The sight Of
red cotton handkerchief in his wash
at length warned me that his disap-
pointed love had unhinGed his mind,
and l feared the worst
Then came an agoniZinG interval Of
a.,
nothing. and after that came the last
parcel that | ever received from him
an enormous bundle that seemed 10
contain all his effects. In this. TO my
horror, | discovered one shirt the
breast of which was stained d deep
crimson with his blood and pierced
by a ragged hole that showed where
bullet had singed through into his
heart
"A fortnight before I remembered
having heard the street boys crying
the news of an appalling suicide. and
| know now that it must have been
he After the first shock Of my grief
had passed | sought to keep him IN
my memory by drawing the portrait
which hangs beside you. I have some
skill in the art, and | feel assured
that. have caught the expression Of
his face. The picture is. of course,
an idedI one. TOT, as you KNOW. ] never
saw Fifty-six''
1 left him soon after and walked
sorrowfullv home to my lodgings on
my way | mused much upon my little
Eastern friend and the sympathetic
grasp Of his imagination. But bur
den lay heavy on my heart-some-
thing ! would fain have told him but
which l could not bear TO mention.
For my life has been secluded and
lonely, and / have known no love like
that Of my ideal friend.
Yet | have a haunting recollection
of a certain huge bundle Of washing
that l sent to him about d year ago.
/ had been absent from town for three
weeks, and my laundry was much
larger than usual in consequence. And
if l mistake not there was in the bun
die a tattered shirt that had been
grievously stained by the breaking of
bottle of red ink in my portmanteau
and burnt in one place where an ash
fell from my cigar as I made up the
bundle.
OF all this / cannot feel absolutely
certain. yet l know at least that until
| a year ago. when I transferred my
custom TO a more modern establish
ment, my laundry number with All.
Yen was Fifty-SiX
Copyright 1921