Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1929-05-12

, fensel No chauffeur could out-match
him for loyalty, because, you see, he is
a dog, and knows no better. But he
does know that he is in charge of this
machine. And that he is going to guard
1t. / tell you what, young fellows, if
dogs could be trained to count money
there would be no dishonest cashiers"
The young men may have been fool
ing or the other thing, but as the owner
came briSking forward from the steps
OF business building, they gave the
dog somewhat boisterous farewell and
went their way. So did the elderly gen.
tleman. And it was his somewhat dras-
TIC refection on human nature that
made listener tab it down:
If dogs could be trained to count
money there would be no dishonest
cashiers
A TELEGRAPHER had been juggling
two fingers on sending key. Then
the message was through with and he
started in on five-minute talk about
his suburban garden-interrupte few
minutes before.
"As say, I couldn't get things
going as they are If it wasn't for
tramps. Every day or two a hobo comes
along and offers to do job in pay for
a meal or g. place to sleep, and they
help me out fine: Most of them know
more about digging and planting than
I do, and give me good ideas about
hedges and the best way to NOV. And
there has never been one to trick me
yet. You could get a lot of good stories
out of those chapS-with this one about
the oldest:
He had just been discharged from
poorhouse hospital and was still too
dazed and weak to know exactly who
or what he waS-or where he was
going. I felt sorry for him, and being
one of these chilly May nights I told
him would give him a cot to sleep
IN and good supper SO that he would
be stronger for the road tomorrow.
Then had him help me make a crate
fire in the living room.
while he was laying the chips he
noticed my wife, who was painting
our little daughter posed by her on a
stool. Alice is no great shakes with a
brush but she likes to dab and I think
ateur. Well sir, the man dropped those
chips, lifted my wife from before the
easel and began to handle the paints
like mad. Daisy was too curious to
move, but I wish you could have seen
the eyes of her. And he painted her
to the life-in about five minutes-a
portrait that is going to be our prize
possession.
Just as he finished he toppIed over
on the floor and we had to send him
to the hospital. After he revived he
was able to show that he was a well
known English painter who was to make
portraits of some big-wigs in this
country and mysteriously disappeared.
Lots of those road trotters have the
markings of novels in them"
Then the wire gave a warning click
and he was back on the job.
X X X X
A BELOVED friend of the column
asks this one:
do you know about double-breasted
funerals?"
Your answer will depend upon
whether or not you have ever lived in
that section of the city on which the
Capitols bronze Freedom looks down.
This double breasted idea was the
taker, whose worry, for years, was the
perplexing precedence situation, due to
rival claims of families and relatives
as to the right of priority in the mat
ter Of having their carriages follow di-
rectly behind the hearse.
The mortician evolved magic
method, which now permits all funeral
corteges to follow the remains in dou-
BILE line OF carriages-Which satisfies
opposing parties. relatives, relieves the
undertaken. and probably makes no diff
ference to the rider in the hearse.