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Krazy Kat
fDooTrtfrnt, 1813, International Kawa Scrrle*)
The Higher the Fewer
Tomorrow:
Still Recovering
Do You Know Thar—
Fpward of 660 tons of soot fall an
nually on each square mile of the
rity of London; that is to say, during
one year 76.060 tons fall on the 117
square miles which form the admin
istrative county.
In Chinese cities streets are never
built straight, from superstitious
fear that processions of evil spirits
might otherwise enter and remain.
Lions and tigers nre too weak in
I ower to run more tUaa half a
mile.
The Dingbat Family
Polly and Her Pals
Us Boys
Waiting
IN a rickety, gloomy old tenement
in one of the poorest streets in
the great city one of the many
doors facing the long corridor opened.
It was a dark, bitterly cold winter
morning. An old man came out and
slowly and laboriously walked down
the many stairs. At the bottom he
stood motionless for a few moments
to recover his breath, then knocked
at a door on which was a sign: "Frau
Mierke's Laundry."
The splashing sound Inside ceased
and a sturdy looking woman put out
her head through a cloud of white
steam.
"Oh, It Is only you, Herr Frohllsh."
She had hoped it would be a cus
tomer.
"Good morning, Frau Mierke. Ex
cuse me for disturbing you, but if
anybody should call while I am out,
or if a letter should come—l cannot
stay at home any longer, I must try
to find some work."
The woman grunted an impatient
assent.
"I know all about it. If anything
comes for you I will take it and keep
it. But, of course, nothing will come."
The door closed once more. Frau
Mlerke returned to her washtub. The
old man stared at the closed door,
then turned up his coat collar, dug his
hands into hla empty pockets,
coughed and went out into the cold
morning air.
It was long past noon when lie re
turned. From Frau Mierke's kitchen
came an appetising odor of fried
bacon and onions.
A LITTLE DAFFY
"Nothing has come for you," she
cried. His head dropped still lower
and his face took on an expression
of utter hopelessness as he slowly be
gan to climb the many stairs.
"What is it he is always expecting,
the old fool?" asked a woman neigh
bor.
• Oh, he is a little daffy, I suppose.
TKE BAN TOANCTSCO VATX ANIS POST, FRIDAY, TTECEMBEK 26. 1913 ~
A. TRAGEDY O
He is always waiting for some offer
of work, a registered letter, or Goci
knows what. He expects to get an
old age pension, he says, and then he
wants to board with me."
"Then you had better be careful.
Don't give him anything until you
are sure he can pay for It."
"You just trust me to look out for
Number One. I don't slave like a
mule to feed old bums like him."
The old man in the meantime had
reached his miserable room. He was
trembling with cold, hunger and ex
haustion. All forenoon he had been
trotting around in vain, trying to get
work, lie had not made a single
penny. Once he had offered to carry
the suitcase of a traveler, but the
man laughed and told him he was too
slow and handed his case to a boy.
The old man groaned. Nobody had
any use for him any more. What
was he to do if somebody did not
help him pretty soon? He was be
hind with rent for several months
and did not even have as much as a
crust to appease his gnawing hunger.
He crept close to the little sheet
iron stove, though it was weeks since
there had been a fire in it. How dif
ferent things had been while he was
working in the country for the big
farmer. A nice light room with
plenty of wood and potatoes besides
his wages. No worry of any kind.
Then somebody had told him of the
high wages In the city, and he had
moved to Berlin with wife and child.
At first everything went well, he
found work almost Immediately, but
then came months of enforced Idle
ness and all the money he had saved
went. His wife had to go out as a
scrubwoman and the child was locked
up in their room all alone.
A TRA(iKI)!'
One morning a hand organ played
in the yard, the little one trawled up
on a chair to listen, opened the wio-
dow and fell out. When the parent!
<aiue home their boy was dead.
Then came evil days. The mother
wept anrl mourned and he spent night
after night in the saloon on the cor
ner to avoid looking at the empty
place at "home where the little bed
had stood.
Years passed. His wife was taken
ill, lay In bed, suffered for months,
and then died. His last penny went
to pay for her funeral.
The old man coughed—a dry, rasp
ing cough. His eyes stared vacantly
at the empty room whose only piece
of furniture was. the bed. Everything
else had been sold or pawned. But
he must wait, wait only a little while
yet. The Charity Organization soci
ety had promised him a few marks
a week. He had aplied at their mag
nificently furnished office, and had told
his miserable tale of weeks spent in
the hospital followed by others when
he could find no work. They had
asked him a number of questions and
sent him away with a promise of
help.
Since then he had been waiting
every day. Every morning he felt
sure that today the letter must come.
At last the landlord had reminded him
of the rent long overdue and said
that if he did not pay up next time
he must move. Move!— Where
should he move to? He had nowhere
to go. He picked up courage enough
to go to the charity organization
once more to remind them of promised
help. This time they were anything
but kind. He really must have
patience. What did he mean coming
there again? They had plenty of
other cases pending and were too
busy to Investigate this. It would
be taken up in its regular turn.
He went home heartbroken. An
other week passed. He had got work
shoveling snow, but the first evening
he was discharged. He was much too
slow and coughed more than he
worked, he told them.
He staggered back to his miserable,
cold room. On the stairs he met
Fran Mierke carrying down a basket
of laundry from the girret.
"Excuse me," he stammered, "has
anything come for me?"
"You make me sick with your eter
nal question," she growled. "No,
nothing has come and nothing ever
will, lam sure. You are Just trying
to bluff the landlord to let you stay
with that lying tale of yours."
She turned away in disgust.
The next morning and all the next
day the old man was not seen. But
two days later a short notice in the
papers related that Karl Frohlish had
been found dead in his room.
TOO CUNNING
Mrs. Jimson was aroused from her
slumbers by Mr. Jimson springing
vlolently out of bed. Before she
could «ay a word he had pulled on his
dressing gown and slippers and had
mgde for the door.
"What on earth are you going to
do. Henry?" she asked.
"I'm going to put a stop to that
young fellow staying here till all
hours of the night. Listen to him
now!"
"Henry don't go—don't go!" whis
pered his wife hoarsely. But Henry
was already half-way down the stairs.
In another few minutes she heard the
sounds of a frightful struggle going
on. Olase crashed to the ground and
chairs were overturned. Then some
body dragged someone else to the
front door, kicked him down the steps
and slammed It to again.
Then Mr. Jimson very much out of
breath, but highly pleased with him
self, once more entered the room.
"Oh, Henry, how brave you are!"
murmured his wife admiringly.
"Why, how's that?"
"Oh, Henry, it was a real burglar at
last!"
Henry turned pale.
"My word!" he said. "And I
thought it was Mabel's young man!"
Kastor Is Kwite Some Kunning Kanine Kop
(Copyright. ISI3. IntarnatloDal Newa Sarrlcai
No Excuse
The Outrageous extravagance of
some of the millionaires of New York
led Lord Haldane, at a dtnner in
Albany, to say:
"The extravagance, the waste, that
one sees on the part of the American
rich is very blameworthy."
"But, Lord Haldane," said a Boston
woman, "our rich are so very rich,
you know. Why shouldn't tiiey be
extravagant and prodigal when they
have incomes of two or three millions
a year?"
"Madam," aaid Lord Haldane,
"would you excuse a cook for over
salting your dinner because he had
a superabundance of salt?"
* * *
A train slowed up at a country
Station and a man was seen to put
I All the cheering refreshment that tea I
I ever brought to womankind I
I is blended in I
l f&d&aqys Tea J
Pa Gets "Something Just As Good"
(Copyright. 1913. International Neva Ber»iea> »
A Reminder of Christmas
(Registered L'oited States Patent oflics)
his head excitedly out of the window.
"There's a woman in here fainted!"
he cried. "flas any one got any
brandy or whisky? Quick!"
Some one in the crowd on the plat
form handed him a bottle. He un
corked it frantically, put it to his lips
and took a noble pull.
"Ah," he sighed, "that's better. It
always did upset me to see a woman
faint."
* * *
Newport, as all the world knows, is
getting more and more overrun with
the nouveaux riches'. The nouveaux
riches arc buying up the finest estates
and the old and exclusive Newport
families are retiring to more isolated
resorts.
Alfred G. Vanderbilt at one of his
dinners at his luxurious Newport farm
said of a nouvean riche who was as
Poor Sympathy
"The a.llfgator swallered him."
"An' did they kill the 'gator?'*
"No; they thought that swallerln'
him was punishment enough."
And She Did
"And why are you writing Tersonal"
on that envelope."
"I want the man's wife to read the
letter."
suming an extraordinary disdain of
all things common and plebeian:
"This chap's' way of turning: up his
nose reminds me of a groom of mine
who used to say.
" 'Keep yer eye on what a man turns
up his nose at, and yell know what
hps hern raised on.' "
