Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1931-02-01

DelIOWeu bIlTOukn y mSkaQQOnoe
Alloy, Martin Holme, do you want
tow?"
Get q HOrse!"
Martin assured me there was a per-
ceptible Sneer in the sailing shippers
voice. In as perilous straits as he was,
the ancient rivalry between sail and
steam, the rivalry that 80 years ago
! featured the crossroads when an au-
| tomobtle broke down, would not subside.
Martins gorge Swelled, flushed his face,
choked the words in his throat. OF ali
the glorious, crushing retorts Martin
was prepared to make for the honor
OF steam only strangled oath issued
forth. 1t is one Of the more painful
memories CT the shippers life.
Get q horse" came the contemptu-
Gus answer from the square rigger as It
tackled away along this country road Of
the sea-
lunkhead windjammer, said the old
man to me, ven know he's losing his
mind"
But what did you do?"
"Oh. easy enough. made sails Of
the tarpaulins and some spare bolts
OF canvas found in q locker, bent them
on to the crafts two stump-masts and
cargo booms-and with this jury rig,
after Stating about in the cross-swell
paw coming over the crags We managed
| to reach into Desolate Bay under our
observation-disclosures
Well, anyway. he didn't need horse.
Rum Played Him Dirt.
"The ways o. rum, like wimmen,"
says Philosopher Harry Campbell, cook
on the Duffy Lewis, "air sair mysterioos
TO a mortal mon."
He lifted q suspiciously fragrant
brown bottle to his lips and gurgled
contentedly.
Eye mought say" he continued, "thot
I've bin fayther and BARN, mither, lover
and sister to rum all my born days, but
wad We believe it, 1t was rum played me
dirt wanst-a month it'll be tomorrow"
An this is the story Harry Campbell
told me in between potions from that
suspected brown bottle.
The men on the Duffy Lewis had ar
ranged for cockroach race. A course
was marked out, two cockroaches were
placed in competition and the winner
was to receive q SO purse.
Campbell, canny lad, bet heavily on
his entry for two excellent reasons, the
first being that a wad of gum had been
stuck, perhaps by accident. under his
rivals courser, and the second, that he
had surreptitiously dipped his own
cockroach's snout into "wee dram o.
rum" Such stimulant, he thought,
would chase his racer over the line
ahead Of Gallant Fox, If necessary, but
the gum was precautionary measure.
The starting gong rang. The two
reaches were released For q minute,
fraught with silence, nothing happened.
The rival roach, of course, stood per-
fectly still. Campbell's entry wavered
ovrkr fvR1xx - -. 4.
back up-yes, back up, probably to get
away from the rum on his face. The
referee awarded the race to the rival,
because he felt that, though neither had
crossed the line, the one nearest to e
was the most logical winner.
'Nivver moore" said Harry Campbell
sadly. shall trost rum. It is in my
mind the reformers air right when they
say 1t Is accursed OF the divvil" And
he fling his now empty bottle into the
ha, Or.
Caught by Knot.
The ways of the land are incompre-
hensible to Art Leavitt. Forty now, he
is veritable child in the hands of I'M
scrupulous landlubbers. He is the kind
of man who buys the City Hall annually
and Brooklyn Bridge semi-annually
But though cleaned promptly every
time he hits port. he always returns
well supplied with worldly goods. He
has two PHILOSOPHERS which might.
made him a rich mamie gets who
helps himself, and when you take that
smile.
On his last trip Leavitt shipped
aboard with nothing but an empty pipe
and an empty valiSe. When he locked
here q few days ago he was compare
lively wealthy, possessing several suits
nl2k - 49,.
An incident viii reveal how Leavitt
works. One Of the men suspected him
of helping himself surreptitiously from
can of tobacco. He tied an intricate
knot about the tin and the next day
discovered 1t had been replaced by q
simple slip knot.
At mess he accused Leavitt Of steal
ing. Leavitt angrily denied the charge.
How do you know took it?" he de-
manded. His shipmate explained the
trap.
by golly," said Leavitt, slapping his
knee and laughing, that was a smart
one. You got me that time, all right"
So nobody can ever hold anything
against him.
He Has the Fish.
A fish story is circulating about
Staten Island which concerns Bill Tygel
of a fish yarn is like the owner Of a
black eye. Nobody believes him; but
after all, Tygel has the fish, porpoise.
The Tientsin ran into a school Of
them a short time ago. They dappled
the sea for a quarter of mile, leaping
and splashing like Boy Scouts in lake.
Not a fishing line on board. but fishing
lines don't worry Tygel. He grasped an
oar, leaned far out of port hole with
shipmate holding his legs, and waited
for big fellow to leap up into the air.
One did. Tygel swatted and the f1sh
zoomed up on deck for perfect home
run.
And that's a true story, so help
me-" said Tygel.
Maybe it is.
Copyright, 1881, by North American News
paper Alliance)
Ell cW0RTH tn RACK