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T":-- L ‘- |:-gg-17'§ e T e s e b gals T ) | gaETim s sTS P 2 o | — it oy Cerean) e leTareler T on You Ao — . m 2xcuse ME! i ‘ ;  g N =,"g—' e. ¢ L// ot /.-\7 Q 7 T,T/( % -.‘.hh‘n -g “-n - Qe PR (N —— TTT Y | : g \ i = N | (=R (-l — / Q?\‘ [V- L E— ( W oy o 00, t =] N | —— | TR e il 9wy =8 ke 3 / 3 3 Vgéf““ =2 Sda AGns "-- -ultl BT L L i.// 1,//./%;/// Q\:QE/ \ ( b= s'b. -\: Wieei | i wmk’ Ny &. ; 9. Here’s Raymond Hitchcock’s Funny Curtain Talk. "Have a care!" Says the Comedian, "Come from a Proud Family; We Used to Raise Peacocks." "Not this a darn fool show? Nobody would dare to play it but me! I want you all to know that it takes very little applause to bring me out here before the assemblies. Very little. The drop of a nickel on a pillow would be plentiful, or the mere whisper of Hughey Jennings Bryan on a grapejuice bat. "But one can account for all things in a human way, can't one" [mean that it is human nature to do what one is least qualified to do. I'm always willing to speak. I notice several parties pointing their fans and microscopes at my various rations. Well, I'm not ashamed at any fraction of this garb. The vest is made from the upholstery off the back of a chair, some queen sat in, and the trousers are fashioned out of a blanket my pet zebra used to wear. I'm sure you must all be very anxious to hear the latest edicts on the income tax law, what with its vagueness, penalties and general venom. Inasmuch as everyone who makes anywhere from $1 to $2,000 per annum is considered a good citizen, and anyone making over that amount is regarded as a suspicious character, it has been found expedient—let’s see, where was? Oh, yes; well, the moral, anyhow, don’t make over three thousand because you can't have it. This law was gotten up by the Democrats to annoy the Republicans. Here's the system. I've worked it all out by algebra, thence on to theometry, whence to bacteriology, and deriving the final answer by differential calculus's artful aid. You put down the amount you make, less the graft, see; subtract your board bill, add in the number of your house, and street (if any), multiply by six, plus the date times the year—and the answer you get is the amount you pay into the Government or go to jail. Next we will take a special case, where a man is making four thousand a year, and is married to a blonde girl with one child. Of course, the Government realizes that it costs something to keep your wife a blonde for a whole year and so it allows a little for that. Then, obviously, one child is liable to happen to any couple, and there is a reduction for that. But in the case of a second child—ah-h! That's where the complications begin to assail one. That's where you begin to multiply. You must add on the age, weight and color of the child, multiply by the hour plus the day of its birth, and subtract two, to allow for error. By this process, it works out that the same man, be he guilty of nine children, would lose all his salary and owe the Government two-ninety-eight to boot. In that case, however, I understand that there is a rebate of six dollars, which the man may blow up, and I'll pay him three times the amount. I trust that this law is all clear to you now. I've decided to run for President in 1916, I'll be out of work then so I thought I'd run. Teddy will also be out of work and he’s going to run with me. He met me on a well-known street in South America the other day and said: “Hello, Hitchy-koo, I hear you're going to run for President.” “Why, yes,” I said, “I've been thinking I'd do a Marathon for the White House if my wind holds out.” “Well,” said The, “come along and be Vice-President with me.” “Now, Dory,” I replied, “you know I'd love to, but do you think Bryan would be willing?" Then Teddy said, “Why, I wrote to Bill yesterday about that, and he replied he didn't care. Said he was going to run any way,” Of course, now you all understand this is confidential. The Colonel doesn't want me to say this. But he’s down in Brazil shooting nuts, and I'm up here on Broadway. We'd be an efficient pair down in Washington. We're so alike in our tastes and hobbies. We'd go out hunting together. Roosy loves hunting as well as I do. Incidentally, I wonder that Teddy's family always stands for that hunting gag of his. Anyhow, The and would run something more than a matrimonial bureau at the White House, which is more than can be said for a certain party at pregent. I hear now they're going to marry Wilson's third daughter to Huerta. Just as if marriage ever stopped hostilities! That's where they begin! I must congratulate myself on having been able to get back near the wings of the stage again. A great many fellows who have braved the audience from the center of the stage never lived to get back, I'm very glad you've enjoyed our humble effort: to entertain you. What I mean is, I hope you've enjoyed it, of course. And of course, I'll admit our play is a little highbrow, but then we feel that it is really a step in the right direction. It is a play with a distinct moral, and the moral is; Come Aguln, Bargain Week. A great magazine, filled with the work of famous writers, famous authors. Free with The Sunday American of May 3rd Order Early. The Prince Has Several Narrow Escapes. Copyright, 1914, by the Star Company. Great Britain Rights Reserved. The day the nettled nerves of Prince Alibi Baba cried for rest and relaxation. For he had spent a wakeful night at a gaming table where his skill and good fortune brought him many sequins. These he secreted in the pockets of an old garment, where there would be no danger from the prying Princess Nifti. And all day the Prince employed artful devices to avoid the presence of his spouse, for she had spent a wakeful night on a lengthy essay of her own composition, “The High Sheriff Feminism.” It was her wish that at least one man should hear and squirm under this scathing arraignment of his sex before she submitted it for the applave of her own club, and she chose the Prince for her audience. But this ordeal he successfully escaped by remaining obscured until the first shades of night appeared. Then, summoning his trusty Bull-Bull, he started with him for the Caravansary. Here the two ‘managed to elude the comely female slave at the door, and carrying their outer garments with them, placed them on a chair near the table which they had selected. But a vigilant servitor craftily possessed himself of the garments, which he carried off, and then returned with a soiled slip bearing a number. This he handed to the Prince. The Prince accepted the card with a mirthless smile, and then addressed himself to Bull-Bull. “This ticket,” said he, “mean as it may appear, and worthlessness outside of this hostelry, has greater earning power than a bond from the royal exchequer. Each time it journeys back to the door it carries an accompaniment of silver, for only thus can we cowards redeem our garments. It is not the wearing of them that is costly; it is cheaper to keep them on our backs. Indeed, I have given more to ransom them from captivity in a Caravansary than ever they cost when new.” The Prince had barely finished his harangue on clothes, when a chorus of contending voices from the front of the room assailed his ears. “For the love of Mohammed!” he pretended with a grimace, at the untoward sounds behind his back, “I never did enjoy the musical numbers in this cabaret!” Bull-Bull, who sat opposite the Prince and in full view of the rumpus, suppressed a smile. “It is no musical number, O Prince,” he explained, “but a fracas at the door.” The Prince then began to show some concern in the uproar, and sent Bull-Bull to investigate. Bull-Bull returned with the information that they were attempting to eject a lusty beggar, who kept affirming his intention to enter as a guest. The novelty of the situation interested the Prince, and he arose from his seat. His personal intercession brought peace once more to the Caravansary, and victory to the seedy mendicant whom the Prince now led to his own table. The spectacle afforded little amusement for the diners. But failed to embarrass the mendicant, who met their insolent glances with an offer to burn money under their very noses and buy wine for the multitude. When the Prince had comforted his strange guest with a glass of wine, he requested him to establish his identity. For here was a man, either a beggar who came as a guest in a Caravansary, or a guest in the guise of a beggar. Either character bore promise of an interesting story. “I am indeed a beggar,” said the man, “and have been as poor as a duck in a desert. Poverty with me was almost a talent. But today good fortune overtook me, and I struck it rich.” The Prince settled back in his seat in a listening attitude and heard to his great astonishment: THE BEGGAR’S STORY. I have been a beggar from my early youth, and many years ago, I acquired great proficiency in my calling. As in every other profession, there is an art in begging, based upon an understanding of human nature. A successful beggar understands faces and reads expressions as a mariner reads the complaints. And in these days, when the profession is overcrowded with bunglers of all sorts, and everybody is suspicious of the mendicant class, it takes an artist to get along and keep body and soul together. And with all my skill I have known times when laboring alone stood between me and starvation. I have been a hewer of wood and a drawer of water. I have lulled a crying infant to sleep for a full breakfast; I have administered to a pet dog his daily bath for bed and board, and have even sought out and brought home to a wrathful wife her inebriated husband, for a snack of supper. But today my duties were strangest of all when the hand of Fortune directed me to the door of a fine mansion. There a harsh servant was about to turn me off the premises, when a beautiful lady appeared, ordered that I be fed with a free hand, and seeing the sad state of the garments I wore, gave me these to don in place of them. At the same time she assured me that her husband would never miss them from his extensive wardrobe. May this be so; and may he never miss what I found later on in one of the pockets, an ample purse, snug with sequins. And this was a windfall indeed, for I labored not at all. All that was required of me was an audience. I was seated comfortably and for an hour the lady read to me. Twice I felt asleep, it's true, only to be aroused by an attending servant. But this you will readily understand when I tell you that I was compelled to listen to no less a subject than “The Higher Feminism,” an original composition. The Prince sat upright with a start. Then leaning across the table he quickly examined the garments the beggar wore. His suspicions were verified. Gone were the winnings of the previous night. At arm’s reach were his sequins, yet beyond recovery. He could undoubtedly prove his owner ship of the purse; but to establish his claim would involve him in difficulties with the Princess, such as he wished to avoid: With a great effort he managed to control his expression. Then he thought of something and asked with an artful smile if nothing else of value were found in the pockets. “Only this,” answered the man, drawing forth a portrait of a lady. “Guess I'll send it back.” “Neo, no!” cried the Prince, with more excitement than he cared to betray, as he snatched the portrait from the beggar's hand and left in its place a sequin. “She’ll never miss that!” As Bull-Bull caught a glimpse of the portrait, he turned his face aside to conceal a smile that might offend his master. For the portrait was NOT that of the Princess Nifti. Of the loss of his sequins the Prince spoke only once. It was on their way home that evening, when he repeated one of his earlier reflections on garments, “It is not the wearing of a garment that is costly, it would have been cheaper to have kept it on my back.” 