Princeton University - Nassau Herald Yearbook (Princeton, NJ)

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Class Prophecy fortune before Mayor Scribner would give him his license, and even now he has to pay regular graft to the police. Even as he spoke, I noticed Max in the door furtively slip- ping a yellow-back to a smiling copper. I wasnit much sur- prised to notice that the cop was none, other than Arthur I. Sullivan, the Celtic Whirlwind, but I must admit that I was momentarily thnown off when I got inside and discovered Burr Harrington and Earl Douglas setting them up behind the bar. Over in a corner was an array of talent which Bob told me constituted the best cabaret in town, consisting of Ridge Lytle and Jimmy Gorham, dressed in green tights and a happy smile, and singing all kinds of naughty songs for the edificatio-n of the public. I was becoming a bit bewildered by thisitirne, and Bob had to positively push me up to the bar so we might take advantage of the big sign which announced that for to-day only, they were selling the best beer for three cents a glass. About this time, who should come striding down the stairs but Brick Fauntleroy. I had ceased to let anything surprise me, so I didn't bat an eyelash when I noticed that Brick was wearing clerical garments. Bob told me that he had been a well-known evangelist and reformer for several years. I wrung his honest hand, and he replied with the delicate and gentle dignity which was always so characteristic of him. After greetings were over, he held up his hand solemnly. Stand back, brother, he commanded. I am here on an errand of moralityf' Wheretipon, he strolled up to the bar, and buttonholed head- bartender Earl Douglas. Is it true, he demanded, in thunderous tones, that you are selling beer-the curse of humanity-at three cents a glass ? Yep, it's true, was Earl's snappy come-back, what's it to yer ? . Don't get huffyf' pleaded Brick, with that hatred of a scrap for which he has always been noted, I wanted to order five kegsf' Whereupon the pno-mising young clergyman came back and 2I

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The N assau H emld None other, was the reply, he's now universally ad- mitted to be the most wonderful man in New York, I'm not surprised, I saidg back in the student days he used to admit it himselff' We were passing the Metropolitan Opera House by this time, and I noticed a vaguely familiar figure coming out of the stage door. I asked Bud who it was, and he told me that it was none other than Cam Hawkins, now known as Signor Screechi, the worldls greatest tenor. Bud said that he was supposed to have the biggest repertoire of any living singer and I had to admit that he 'was getting fat. Cam had spied us by this time, and came up with his well- kniown smile, which was trying to meet itself in the back of his head. X Say, boys, he gurgled, have you heard the story about- ' For I-Ieaven's sake, Cam, wait till these girls get by, I whispered. Cam looked injured. You wrong me, he observed, all my stories nowadays are Boutonized. This one's about Si Perkins. Where on earth is Si now'?,' I asked. That's the story, said Cam. I-Ie just fiunked Sophomore Latin for the 38th consecutive time, and he's dropped back to the class of IQ43.H This was a blow to us, Si's former classmates. Let me remark in passing that Si probably has more classmates than any other college man in existence-if he counts all his classes. But we hadn't much time to discuss the matter, when I caught sight of Bob Ober coming down the street. I-Iey, boys, he yelled from afar, has anybody got- No, but I've got the makings, I shouted back, heaving him a bag of Bull as he came up. He rolled a gussie, and I accepted his invitation to pay a visit to Broadway's latest lobster palace, so he led me around the corner, and We entered a gaudy portal with Maison Chap- lin in pink letters over the door. Pretty fine place, I comm.ented. It ought to be, remarked Bob, it cost Max Chaplin a 20 ,.

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The Nassau H emld joined Bob and me. I couldn't help asking him if this sort of thing wasn't rather unusual for a minister of the gospel, and Bob chimed in with some of the practice-what-you-preach stuff. Well, you see, explained Brick, I found that the only way I could write a good peppy sermon was to interview a couple of Tom Collinses first, and I say, if gin helps you to save souls, why up with souls and down with gin. I was about to comment on this rather ambiguous remark, when I was interrupted by an infernal clatter, apparently from the next door. Wierd wails and soul-tearing shrieks, to say nothing of hair-raising howls, followed each other in quick succession. Do you know what that is? asked Brick, in sepulchral tones. I took a chance. Rawleigh Warner and his quartette F I hazarded. ' Brick shook his head, and stopped to aim a kick at Irv Kingsford, who was going around the cafe selling photographs of himself. No, it's not as bad as that,', he answered, it's an asylum for the feeble-minded-one of those high-brows' bug-houses they used to show us in Social Economics. Let's go in and look over the bugsf' gurgled Bob enthusi- astically, l'Ild like to see old France Marling againf' Brick said that there was nobody in there that we knew except I-Ienny Norman. What! I exclaimed. Poor old Henny doing time in a padded cell? What's his trouble ? The sad story was swiftly told. It seems that I-Ienny had been pretty ill, and to keep him alive, they had been obliged to feed him 'on bread and' water for three weeks. When he came to and found that for three weeks he'd had nothing to drink but water, the shock was too much for his Southern system, and from that day he'd never been the same. I left Bob and Brick to look the place over, and wandered down the street alone. I hadn't gone far when a glaring red and black sign caught my eye. It was hanging in the window 22 .