INTRODUCTORY NOTE

The Poor Country Boy of To-day May Be the Powerful Magnate of To-morrow, So Be Careful Whom You Turn Down.

“No, young man, I can’t give you a position. You have no experience, and I won’t be bothered teaching beginners. Good-day, sir.”

“Well, the firm is going to put me in charge of their western business next week. That’s pretty good for my first five years.”

Twenty Years Later—“Hello! I wonder what Hornbeck wants. Perhaps he’s returning the call I paid him twenty-five years ago.”

Mr. Hornbeck—“Mr. Worthy, I’m in hard straits, and unless you help me I’ll have to go to the wall. Just put yourself in my place and you will realize how much your assistance will be appreciated and how much it will mean to me.”

“Remember, my young friends, that the three essentials to a successful and honorable life are industry, frugality and unswerving honesty.”

The Next Day—“Send this schedule of my personal property over to the assessors to-day, then telegraph our Louisville branch to undersell that new competitor until we bust him, and then have my automobile at the club at three. If anybody calls, tell them I’ve gone out to the races.”

At Fifteen Years of Age—“No, Willie, the man I shall marry must be tall and handsome, with beautiful soft eyes and a soulful temperament.”

At Twenty—“No, Alfred, the man I shall marry must have great influence and a high position in the world.”

At Thirty—To Mr. Scadsworth, President of the bank: “No, the man I shall marry must be big and powerful—a man born to command—a man of imposing appearance.”

At Forty—“Man wanted,—must be white.”

Sam Alexander—“By jing, if I was fixed as well as Curt Hawkins, I’d be just about satisfied; 240 acres of good land, all tiled and unencumbered, a hundred head of cattle, a likely bunch of shoats, money in the bank, to say nothing of as nice a wife as ever put on a wedding-ring.”

Curt Hawkins—“Now, that’s the way I hope to be fixed some day. Colonel Porter’s worth at least a million, goes abroad every summer, has a couple fine residences, and the handsomest wife in the county.”

Colonel Porter—“I wish we were as well fixed as Lycurgus Scadsworth. There he goes out to his yacht with a bunch of royalty, and they don’t know we’re on earth. Great Scott! I envy that man.”

Lycurgus Scadsworth (as Sam Alexander sprints at the first note of the dinner bell)—“Ah, that’s the life! Simple, wholesome and natural! I’d give my tired soul and everything I have for an appetite like that man’s.”

The Man Whose Sole Object in Life is Money Making

“Welcome, my dear old friend. Our house is yours, and you must make yourself perfectly at home.”

The Guest—“Now for a quiet time with my good old pipe, just as I do when I’m at home.”

“I’ve taken the liberty of sending Little Rollo over for some beer. When I’m at home I always like a little beer just before going to bed.”

“When I’m at home I always have a few friends drop in occasionally for a friendly game, so I thought I would do the same here.”

1—“I hate this drudgery, working from daylight to dark. I’m going to Chicago where you don’t have to work so blamed hard. I want to see a little gaiety.”

“Gee! I wish I could get a good job.”

“Here am I, slaving along at $15 a week, and there is Baxter, working only half as hard as I do, and getting ten times the salary I get. I wish I had a snap like his.”

How Baxter Got His Snap

“Not a soul in sight. I shall never be detected.”
(✠ Represents scene of prospective crime.)

But at the trial it develops that the murderer dropped his handkerchief, also two cards with name and address; also that a man going for a doctor saw and recognized him; also that the janitor and his wife saw him from the basement window; also that a couple on the steps saw him distinctly; also that a man who couldn’t sleep looked from the window and saw him; also that a tramp sleeping on a bench awoke and saw him; also that a belated cab driver saw him plainly; and also that the driver of a milk wagon saw him approaching the scene of the crime.

Tommy Atkins—“So this is the bloomink sacred city. My word, what jolly fine walls for pill advertisements.”

“I’ve made a careful study of the Traction Question, and if you hold real still I’ll tell you the answer. If you think it over as carefully as I have you’ll soon know just as much as I do. I used to get up at three o’clock and sit in the dark thinking it out. I didn’t dare light a light for fear Mr. Yerkes would find me and sell me some stock. Finally, one morning, about half-past four I got it all thought out except where the stockholders come in, and just then Mr. Yerkes and Mrs. Chadwick rode in on two white giraffes with a trunk full of stocks. So I ran down the street yelling, and some one suggested a nice, quiet upholstered room where I would be safe. So I came here and you mustn’t tell Mr. Yerkes where I am. And now I’ve got it all thought out. You first have to multiply Port Arthur by the new Chicago Post Office and carry two. Then you subtract and let stand in a cool place until you become impatient, and that’s the answer.”

The Scene in Lincoln Park when “Chief Chicag” Arrived

Lurid Red Fire Reproduction of the Great Chicago Fire of ’71

The Band Concert on the Lake Front

The Parade, Visit to the Stock Yards, Rowing Contest, etc.

The Indian Encampment in Lincoln Park

The Grand Banquet of the Visiting Mayors at the Auditorium

Suggestion I—Charter a good, seaworthy steam-yacht, stock it well with seasonable food and drink, and cruise along the New England coast. Frequent stops may be made at the various watering places, thus pleasantly breaking the voyage. After having exhausted these points of interest, you will find it enjoyable to continue the cruise to Sweden and Norway, and, if your time permits, a still further cruise among the beautiful fjords of New Zealand will be found extremely delightful. The weather is now perfect in New Zealand, and if you have a camera you can get some most excellent pictures. For a trip such as this one should secure a steam-yacht of perhaps 2,500 tons, with a crew of thirty men. A white yacht is preferable, white being cooler than black. If you do not mind the additional expense, a cow should be taken, thus insuring fresh milk during the voyage. As for equipment, you should take heavy and light clothes, a pair of deck shoes, a mackintosh, and a pair of smoked glasses to protect your eyes while going through the Suez Canal. The cost of this outing will amply repay you for your pleasure, and we strongly recommend it.

Suggestion II—Another delightful vacation which we earnestly recommend would be to spend your two weeks’ holiday in Scotland. Here one may rent a beautiful estate, abundantly stocked with game—croquet, golf, bridge, etc.,—and with plenty of good riding-horses, and at least one mail coach for coaching parties, the hours may be most delightfully beguiled. You could give frequent entertainments, such as jolly little tours in the highlands, etc., and it would be well to have the castle the scene of many congenial house parties. Occasionally you should give lawn fêtes to which the peasants and tenants from the neighboring countryside may be invited.

Such an estate may easily be secured by going through the necessary preliminaries. You should insist, however, that your London agents secure a castle with a porch well screened with mosquito bars. The cost of such a place would be either moderate or upwards.

As the highlands are often cool during the evening hours, you should take a heavy overcoat and at least one suit of flannels.

Suggestion III—Our third suggestion would be to make up a jolly little party and spend your July vacation in touring Switzerland and the Petroleum Alps. Excellent motor-cars may be obtained in Paris (No. 19 Arc de Triomphe) and the roads from the gay capital to the Swiss uplands will be found most excellent. Luncheon may be secured at convenient cabarets along the way, and by speaking to the chauffeur stops may be made from time to time to allow you to make photographs of choice bits in the landscape. Arriving in Switzerland, you should retire early in order to be up for the sunrise, which, in those latitudes is much earlier than in America on account of the difference in time.

While in Switzerland you should not fail to visit the tomb of William Tell, who is dead at present. Here a short stop may be made for luncheon, photographs, etc. In this little side trip you will have delightful weather, according to recent unconfirmed rumors from Chefoo.

Having toured Switzerland, it would be pleasant to have a yacht meet you some place nearby and make the homeward journey in this way rather than by the Atlantic liners. There are so many vulgar tourists on the regular steamships during the summer.

To Those Who are in Doubt as to Where They Shall Go for Their Holiday, We Respectfully Submit these Happy Hints

Uncle Gid—“Well, by Jiminy, I reckon the Judge and the Missus are having a fine time out there in Europe. I see an item in this week’s ‘Transcript’ that says they are bein’ showered with attentions by them Frenchies and are right in the swim, by Jiminy. I knowed the Judge’d cut a swath over there. You can bet ye you can’t lose the Judge, by Jiminy.”

The Judge and his wife in Europe.

The Dispatch is said to Have Excited Much Interest in Indiana

The Wedding of Crown Prince Frederick and Duchess Cecilia

When the New Congressman and his Wife First Left for Washington, the Home Town Seemed Quite
a Bustling Metropolis

But After Several Years of Distinguished Service Among the High Hats and Stately Buildings of
the Nation’s Capital—

The Congressman and his Wife Returned and Found that the Town had Shrunken, and even
Saturday Afternoon Seemed Dull and Listless

A Study of Official Society, Where Each Member Fights for the Privileges of His Rank

IT is with pleasure that ye Editor chronicles the announcement that a goodly quota of Bird Center society leaders purpose taking a European tour ere long. Among those who will constitute the pilgrimage are Mrs. Riley Withersby, our beloved leader of local society, Reverend Walpole and wife and children under nine years of age, Captain Roscoe Fry and wife, Mr. J. Milton Brown and wife (née Lucile Ramona Fry, formerly daughter of Captain Fry), and little J. Milton Brown, Jr. Also Mr. Smiley Greene, the popular undertaker, and wife and children, Mr. Riley Peters and Miss Myrtle Prute, of Muncie, Indiana, the Misses Flossye and Mae Niebling, Mr. Ernest Pratt, Mr. Elmer Pratt, Mr. Wilbur Fry, and Mr. Orville Peters. Quite a goodly party, say you not?

It is safe to say without exaggeration that the local social circles are agog with pleasant anticipation. At first it was understood that only Mrs. Withersby contemplated going abroad, and for that reason she gave a small function last evening to announce the fact, but others volunteered to accompany her and the party grew apace quite rapidly.

Late in the evening, just before refreshments were served, Mr. Gus Figgey of Chicago arrived and joined the group.

“I just came in on the hundred-hour limited from Decatur,” he announced buoyantly, “and thought I’d drift up and join the merrymakers. What’s going on?”

Mrs. Withersby explained that some of the party were talking over a trip to Europe.

“Count me in,” said Mr. Figgey. “I haven’t had a vacation for three years and I’m going to have one this year if the country goes plumb to smash. What’s the route?”

“We have planned to go to Scotland and the English Lakes,” said Mrs. Withersby pleasantly.

“I can figure out a better trip than that,” said Mr. Figgey. “First we’ll go to London and show those Britishers a touch of high life, then skip over to Paris, thence to Venice, and circle around to Rome. Them’s the four great show places of Europe, and no tour is complete without ’em.”

“Now, I’ll tell what we’ll do,” said the genial Mr. Figgey. “I’ll get some inside rates from a friend of mine in the importing business, and I’ll guarantee that when we get through, Europe will feel that she’s been seen good and proper.”

“No, but I’ve traveled all over this country, making all the important towns, and what I don’t know about traveling could be put in an expurgated French novel.”

“Sure, the train slows down there and we can see the Falls just as well as if you spent an hour.”

“And won’t it be beautiful in Venice,” said Miss Myrtle Prute. “I’ve always been crazy to see Venice by moonlight.”

“We’ll see it by moonlight, candlelight and daylight, Miss Prute. Orville and Wilbur can take their mandolins and we’ll have a tune on the dancing waters. Hot stuff, eh?” said Mr. Figgey, slapping Reverend Walpole on the back.

The party adjourned at a late hour, Mr. Figgey promising to arrange all the details, etc. Various members of the party will tell their experiences exclusively in the Bird Center Argosy.

MIDST gay acclaim did the Bird Center personally conducted tour to Europe steam out of Bird Center yesterday morn. The bells cried “Off to Europe,” and the rails clicked the same news as the great steam steed started on the long journey to Niagara Falls. Throngs of people got on and off at every station, and many admiring glances were cast at the Bird Center tourists who, massed together, made quite a noticeable effect. Mr. Gus Figgey, who says he is the chaperon of the party, has made the welkin ring with laughter and gaiety. At the first stop he purchased oranges for the crowd, and later in the day entertained them with personal anecdotes of travel. At the second stop Mr. Figgey addressed the town from the rear platform, and received a rousing round of cheers. Last evening he entertained ye Editor at supper in the dining-car. It has been a beautiful trip.

Niagara Falls was reached without further mishap. These Falls are situated on the Niagara River, between the Canadian side and the United States. They are a hundred and sixty-two feet in height and are considered by competent critics to be one of America’s most famous natural beauties. The train stopped twenty minutes and Mr. Figgey had several fast hacks convey the party to the various points of interest. By way of getting an expression of opinion from the various members of the party, the Editor secured short statements for the readers of the Argosy.

“Great sight,” said Mr. Figgey. “Those Falls have power enough to run all the factories in the U. S. A.”

“Fine, but wait till you see Saint Peter’s in Rome,” said Mr. Ernest Pratt, who was in Europe several years ago.

“Too bad I can’t get a good photo of it. The Falls would make a beautiful moving picture,” said Mr. J. Milton Brown.

“Truly a sublime spectacle,” said Mr. Smiley Greene, the popular undertaker.

It was with mingled feelings of sadness that ye Editor saw the gay party steam eastward, as he was obliged for business reasons to return to Bird Center. Other communications from members of the party will be printed from time to time.

THE Editor of the Bird Center Argosy presents the following letter from Mrs. J. Milton Brown, who is en route abroad in the personally conducted Bird Center tour.

“She moves, she throbs, she seems to feel the thrill of life upon her keel.” At last the great Leviathan of the Deep has left the dock amid waving ‘kerchiefs and loud huzzas. Like great mountain ranges, rising tier upon tier, the vast buildings of Gotham looked down upon the gallant ship as she turns her course toward the vast and trackless deep. Beautiful somber tints stretch from horizon upward, blending into the deep blue of Heaven’s own firmament. Dainty white caps assail the towering walls of steel that are to be our home for so many days. Bartholdi’s peerless statue, with hand uplifted, seems to cast its benedictions on us as we start for those distant shores to the eastward, and Nature smiles fondly upon us as America’s shores sink lower and lower, back in the direction of dear Bird Center. What joy it is to breathe this ocean air, unsullied by smoke, undefiled by foreign matter. Eyes are flashing with renewed invigoration, hearts are light as the giant of the sea swings into the easy roll of the long Atlantic billows. Spindrift whips by as a great wave, more saucy than its sisters, assails the reeling bow. The splendid craft trembles but goes onward, ever onward, its propellers singing their endless song of struggle. Mr. Figgey, immaculate and white-flanneled, is quite the dressiest passenger on board, and is constantly the cynosure of all eyes. See how he swings along the deck, perfect sailor that he is. Now the rollers batter more furiously, as Mr. Figgey approaches, cigar in mouth, to tell us to get busy and have a good time. The ship rolls and wallows—”

We regret that only part of this story was mailed to the Argosy in Captain Fry’s handwriting. Evidently the remaining leaves miscarried in the mails. Better luck next time.