Do you remember "The White Slave," Jim? Well, that's me. Wasn't it immense where the main lady spurned the leering villain's gold, and exclaimed with flashing eye, "Rags are royal raiment, when worn for virtue's sake." Great!
"The White Slave" has "Die Walkure" beaten to a pulp, and they don't get to you for three cases gate money, either.
Say, Jim, if you ever happen to be hunting around for a real true old sport, don't overlook General Hemingway, last evening's host.
When it comes to warm propositions he is certainly the bell cow.
They all follow him. He is one of those fat, bald headed old boys who at one time has had the smallpox so badly that he looks as though he had lost a lot of settings out of his face. He hustled for about twenty years, harnessed up a bunch of money, and now his life is one continual crimson sunset. Some people know when they have enough, but when the old general has enough he doesn't know anything. Smoke up! Jim, I didn't get that one myself the first time I heard it. Every time the general gets lit up, he places his arm around your shoulder, puts his face close to yours, blows ashes in your eyes, and tells you confidentially, so that every one in Texas can hear him, that he knew your father when the seat of his trousers was ragged, and he didn't have one dollar to rub against another. I don't mind that so much, but every time he comes to a word with the letter _P_ in it, he spits all over a fellow.
Why, the other night he was telling me about our newly acquired _P_ossessions, the _P_hilippines, being a land of _P_erpetual _P_lenty, and for a while I thought I was in the natatorium. Under the circumstances I don't know which would be more desirable, a plumber for the general, or a mackintosh for myself.
Yours as ever, Billy.
P. S.--Jim, you know those little white checks they issue in some bars and you pay at the cashier's desk? Well, one of the boys just telephoned me that he saw Johnny Black a few minutes ago in a down-town place with a beautiful sosh on, and that he was eating his checks because he was broke. He had swallowed five checks amounting to $2.30 before the bartender tumbled.
That's a new one on me, and it's all right. My! but that boy Johnny is a sincere drinker.
More Horse Sense Sometimes you get up in the morning feeling as though you were not expected to live. You know the cause. If you are at home, the first thing to do is to square yourself. Some experts on squaring say that it is best to deny everything, others advise a partial acknowledgment of the facts, together with a solemn promise that it will never occur again. We would respectfully suggest that you try the first; If unsuccessful, spring the second, and if both fail, be a thoroughbred and take it like a man. You probably deserve it, but look at the fun you had the night before singing bass. Remember one thing: don't say you missed the twelve o'clock car, and rather than wait you walked home. You may have arrived in a cab. Wonderful what a noise one small cab can make in the middle of the night.
Well, the next thing is your physical condition. Your liver must be got going. Would you rather drink a cold, sparkling, pleasant-tasting R--R--S-- that will produce instant action upon the liver?
or would you prefer a water that is warm and sickening, tastes like an Italian tenement looks, and half the time won't stay down?
Many a good fellow has his own troubles in the morning trying to find something that will stick. The R--R-- will stick, and what's more, it cools the blood, which naturally relieves the pressure upon the head. For constipation, stomach, and liver troubles, R--R-- has no equal. Being on a sodium phosphate base, it is positively the only liver water on the market to-day. Why subject yourself to probable salivation from poisonous calomel when the R--R-- is absolutely harmless and will give you better results?
Keep our goods at your home, and when you are away from home you can get it at any first-class hotel, cafe, or club.
