"Where's Mr. Daly's name?" "There it
is," I told him, "on the top of the page." "That's all right," he said,
"that's where he always puts it; but I don't see the 'W' in his name,"
and he eyed me distrustfully. Finally, he asked, "Phwat do yez want to
see Mr. Daly for?" "Business." "Business?" "Yes." It was my only hope.
"Phwat kind--theatres?" that was too much. "No." "What kind of shows,
then?" "Bench-shows." It was risky, but I was desperate. "Bench--shows,
is it--where?" The big man's face changed, and he began to look
interested. "New Haven." "New Haven, it is? Ah, that's going to be
a fine show. I'm glad to see you. Did you see a big dog in the other
room?" "Yes." "How much do you think that dog weighs?" "One hundred and
forty-five pounds." "Look at that, now! He's a good judge of dogs, and
no mistake. He weighs all of one hundred and thirty-eight. Sit down and
shmoke--go on and shmoke your cigar, I'll tell Mr. Daly you are here."
In a few minutes I was on the stage shaking hands with Mr. Daly, and
the big man standing around glowing with satisfaction. "Come around in
front," said Mr. Daly, "and see the performance. I will put you into my
own box." And as I moved away I heard my honest friend mutter, "Well, he
desarves it."

THE DRESS OF CIVILIZED WOMAN

A large part of the daughter of civilization is her dress--as it should
be. Some civilized women would lose half their charm without dress, and
some would lose all of it. The daughter Of modern civilization dressed
at her utmost best is a marvel of exquisite and beautiful art and
expense. All the lands, all the climes, and all the arts are laid under
tribute to furnish her forth. Her linen is from Belfast, her robe is
from Paris, her lace is from Venice, or Spain, or France, her feathers
are from the remote regions of Southern Africa, her furs from the
remoter region of the iceberg and the aurora, her fan from Japan, her
diamonds from Brazil, her bracelets from California, her pearls from
Ceylon, her cameos from Rome. She has gems and trinkets from buried
Pompeii, and others that graced comely Egyptian forms that have been
dust and ashes now for forty centuries. Her watch is from Geneva, her
card case is from China, her hair is from--from--I don't know where
her hair is from; I never could find out; that is, her other hair--her
public hair, her Sunday hair; I don't mean the hair she goes to bed
with.

And that reminds me of a trifle. Any time you want