The Waterbury Democrat., 1939-02-06

us at home, and talks lone-
 somely of his wife, Katherine, and his baby. Shield Mary, wis., ting in California and, ac- cording to Kenneth, who never lies, this baby is altogether the most beautiful child he has ever seen, and clever no end. went through it, Ken, and 1t was worth lying for, thank God. Of course you and can never be mothers, but we know that love which grips a fathers heart so firmly that 1t is almost painful so it's a good world and we're glad we're in it, come veal, come woe. Letters from readers, published from day to day in the Hearld- Tribune, are so interesting that I always want more of them [. and why wouldn't it be a good plan to publish a lot of them, which otherwise might never see print, in a monthly magazine, to sell for dime or so? I toss you the idea, Mrs. Ogden Reid, and I believe much can be done with it .. Every weeks mail brings requests for copies of "If Die" a piece written by my old friend, Josh Wilson, then editor of the Wichita Beason, before his death. I think Mrs. Wilson, who isn't rich, should have the piece printed on a card, and sell it for a dime. Its comforting sentiments would be worth far more to mill lions of readers.
 A note from Mary Jester Allen, niece of Buffalo Bill Cody, invit- ing me to the churchwagon dinner in memory of Col. Cody at the American Museum of Natural History, on Feb. 24. If I'm in town and able to eat, you can't keep me away! Buffalo Bill was one of my boyhood heroes. And I knew well another Buffalo Bill, whose friends claimed he had the name before Col. Cody. He was William Matthewson, and old neighbor of ours in Kansas, who shot many buffalo on the plains in early days, but lived out his elder days as a farmer. Once he and Cody met, when the Wild West circus came to our town and set up its tents in Matbhewson's pasture.
 I've often wondered whether there isn't gonie exaggerating of the importaste of that old wheeze "The show fa0gt SO on." Some times 1t must but it seems to me that it's often matter of no moment whether tt does or not.
 Recently ! attended a festive party at 8 certain business head quarters in New York. Not until I'd been there for a half hour did learn that the proprietor of e business was being buried that afternoon. The party had been planned, of course, but there was plenty of time to call it off. To say truth, I thought good taste would have been better served by cancellation of the celebration
 Says Gladys Nellenbogen of Miami: "Why are you surprised that MT. John Hess's Scottie helps him sell automobiles? Your ap- tain Kidd sold your column to me"
 Good old Captain! He'll get big slice of liverwurst for that!
 Mustafa Halil was my taxi driver today on a creeping tour of Manhattan's East Side. He's 40, plump, happy. He was born in Turkey. and hopes to save enough to go back and bring his mother over here. She is 72 now, strong and well, and Mustafa Halil speaks of her with a tenderness that wins your sympathy at once. He stands his cab in Sutton Place, and has many prominent New Workers among his regular cus- omers. Anne Morgan, philan
 thropic sister of J. P. Morgan, was for years patron of the happy Turk.
 Whenever I meet Gelett Bur- gess, the poet, author, and looker- eleven en-years-younger, I find him full of ideas and interest in life. He carries little kaleidoscope in his pocket. You know-one of those things that makes varied patterns of color whenever you shake it. He's woking on machine to project the changing patterns upon a screen. for the creation of moods. And indeed. such things do help stimulate the imagina- tion.
 Gelett has been searching the antique shops for genuine old hour-glass, and hasn't found one. He wants one that will run for Q full hour, and says he knows there are such things because pastors of Boston churches used to preach by them when he was a child.
 Yes, there are few of those leaflets About Coffee" left. Glad to send them as long as they last, but please enclose stamped en- velope Max and Ruth Alley never serve anything stronger than good sherry at their literary parties and there aren't any more popular gatherings in town.
 Copyright, 1889, McNaught Syn- dicate.)
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