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The day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, February 07, 1912, Image 19

Image and text provided by University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL

Persistent link: http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn83045487/1912-02-07/ed-1/seq-19/

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"Will you h6ld your tongue for
a minute? Or are you just ach
ing to go to jail for contempt of
court?" inquired Judge Himes.
'Where do you live?"
"One minute 'e tells me to 'old
my tongue, an' the next 'e asks
me a question. 'E ain't reason
able," murmured Mr. Homer.
Aloud, he said:
"I don't. I'm a sailor."
"Lincoln Park or Lake Michi
gan?" inquired Judge Himes,
The lanky one did not deign to
answer this frivolous question.
"You see, it was this way,
judge. I was on the schooner
Saucy Ann, an' me an' the skip
per 'ad a bit of a argyment. The
skipper, 'e said as 'ow 'is daugh
ter was comin' with us on oUr
next, trip, and I asked 'im if 'is
daughter was anything like 'is
wife. 'E said she was. I 'ad 'ad
the misfortune to meet 'is wife.
So I came ashore."
Mr. Homer paused. Seeming
ly he imagined he had made the
whole matter cjear.
"Well?" encouraged Judge
Hime's, who thirsted for further
"It wasn't well at all," said Mr.
Homer. " "I must 'ave been drug
ged or spmethin'. 'The first thing
I remember arter comin' ashore
was this 'ere officer luggin' me
about the street. Me an' 'im 'ad
words, your honor."
"Yes," said Judge Himes, "you
look it. Did it hurt much ?"
" 'Urt ? Not nearly as much as
wot I'd 'ave done to 'im if well,
any'ow, it was my poetic natur' as
made me stand on that ashcan to'
recite. Even w.'en I was a little
brat I used to love poetry."
"I imagine so," said Judge
Himes dryly. "D'you think you
can sober up in five days?"
"Who, me? Sober up! Sober
"Those were the words," ex
plained Himes. "What I mean is,
get blood back into your veins
instead of 'ot rum with a little
sugar in it, become less of a, hor
rible example of alcoholic poison
ing, or words to that effect."
Mr. Homer's air of virtuous in
dignation was wonderful to be
hold, but it availed him not at all.
As he was led away toward the
five days, he was heard to mur
mur: "George 'Omer, you're a per
ishin', blighted, bloomin' idiot.
You ain't got sense enough to pol
ish up the 'andle.on the big front
door, as the late lamented W. S.
Gilbert so aptly put it. 'Ere you
are again ! IN Chicago. AND
Dne thousand miles from w'ere
the stormy winds do blow over
the wide, free ocean, or the giddy
shark cavort ! AND broke. AND
goin' to make the acquaintance o'
a nice little cell, an' a nice little
warden all dressed in blue, 'oom
I know is goin' to act uppish. A
perishin', blighted, bloomin', pet
rified specimen o' mental decay,
that's wot YOU are, George
Things We Seldom See
A good show.
A satisfied woman.
An honest politician.
ijitrtSi-4li-(--fc, A -.

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