Part 3

Many a girl who once glittered in Folly’s and Fashion’s court has later met and learned a true love. She was silent and devoted and today shines a holy flame in the home as wife and mother. A woman may tell what she is and hopes to be—not what she has been. The man who is fool and fiend enough to insist that the Sphinx speak is unworthy of her. Let a man remember to forgive and forget a woman’s past, as he hopes to have a happy home here and hereafter.

* * * * *

Hello! or Ohell!

Did you ever stop to think that there isn’t much difference between hello and ohell—that ohell is just hello turned around? There’s nothing finer in the English language it seems to me than a good old American “Hello!” But give her the reverse English and you get a cussword—and when you say “hello” to some people that is what you get.

* * * * *

How About This?

The following want advertisement appeared in one of our well known newspapers the other day:

“Two sisters want washing. Will go anywhere.”

* * * * *

My girl shakes the shimmy so much, that she’s shaken herself out of shape.

Smokehouse Poetry

_Smokehouse Poetry for October will feature three poems: one, the plea of a prisoner; the second, a thrilling story of the squared ring by the author of “The Kid’s Last Fight,” and the third, a comic jazz verse after Langdon Smith’s “Evolution.”_

_“The Prisoner’s Prayer,” which is to be Number One on the poetry billboard for October, was written on the stone wall of the Federal penitentiary at McNeil Island, Washington, in September, 1909. It was later memorized by another prisoner and just recently forwarded to the Whiz Bang upon his release._

_“So hear ye the prayers from the prison,_ _Where fever and famine are rife;_ _Where never one soul has arisen,_ _Where many go down in the strife.”_

_In response to inquiries from many readers we have obtained another copy of “The Gila Monster Route” to replace the one which Maggie, the hired girl, lost during our last farm house cleaning bee. It will be published in the Winter Annual._

* * * * *

Betrayed

By Angela Morgan

Bad, hopelessly bad! I yielded to love that sways mankind, Not the mere measure of bodily pleasure, But love that wakes in the soul and the mind, Born of the spirit at God’s behest: And I bartered all I had.

I, with the warmth of a child at my breast— Am bad, hopelessly bad!

Yet the power that molded my little son, Is the same that moved for the wedded one; Creation’s woes were just the same; Had he only borne a father’s name. Did love, that old fashioned universe Fashion alike my curse?

Listen, you who are true and good, White and strong in your motherhood; You with your wedding ring safe on your finger, You who can linger, righteous and clean in love’s embrace: Tell me the reason that I am base! Are you so different after all?

I answered the same high golden call I yielded to love that is proud of pain— Love, that reckoned not for gain; And nature has made my child so fair, As the child on your very shoulder there. The same great impulse, deep and glad, That hurls the suns and drives the earth Brought both our children to this earth.

Yet ... you are good and I am bad, Vicious and evil and low, they say— “A girl who has gone astray”;

Yet the milk of my life is warm and white That runs to his hungry mouth at night; My words are soft, my arms are sweet, My hands are kind to his little feet. Can I, who live for my baby’s smile, Be vile, hopelessly vile?

O, great, broad, beautiful judgment day, When dogmas of man are rent asunder, And superstition is wiped away, Will you plead for me, will you gently speak For us who are voiceless and weak? Plead for us, who must ever wonder? Why we are hounded and held at bay— We who can love, we who can pray:

We, the mothers, who might be glad, But are broken at heart and bitter and sad; O, Future Day, will you write in flame, The reason for sin and the reason for shame?

That in all the city there seemed no room No sweet clean place for my heart to bloom! Oh, will you terribly tell the truth; That the world which offers no worthy place, For the light that shines in my baby’s face, Offered no shelter for love and youth, No guarding presence who understood, My blossoming womanhood?

So I sought his arms as a bird to nest And I ... with the warmth of a child on my breast I ... who bartered all that I had Am bad ... hopelessly bad!

* * * * *

The Unwritten Law

By Budd L. McKillips

“Don’t kid me, I know that I’m dyin’, The song of my life has been sung; I’m done and there’s no use in tryin’ To patch up a bullet torn lung.

“I’ll bet, Doc, you think I’m a tough one Who’d fight at the stroke of the bell— You’re right, Doc, my life’s been a rough one, And now I am headed for hell.

“I used to be decent as any Young man in that little mill town; My friends in the village were many, Until I commenced to go down.

“’T’aint long when a fellow starts hittin’ The booze till he’s gone the whole way; And then when he thinks about quittin’, He’s found that the devil’s to pay.

“A woman—they’re always the reason In my case the girl was my wife; We married—were happy a season And then trouble entered my life.

“The man—we’d been palin’ together Since both of us started to school; I thought that he’d stick through all weather, I trusted him—just like a fool.

“He lived in my home like a brother, For months our life went like a song, And then I began to discover, That somethin’ in life had gone wrong.

“I watched till I thought I detected My wife was wrapped up in his charms, Then dropped into home unexpected, And found her clasped tight in his arms.

“I came in the room as she kissed him, He saw me and begged for his life; I shot at the cur, but I missed him— He ran and left me with my wife.

“My—wife—God! I’d found her no better Than women who live on the street, So diff’rent than when I first met her— She screamed and fell dead at my feet.

“Then somethin’ inside my brain parted Like strings on a harp stretched too tight— Doc, that was the time I got started; I changed in a minute that night.

“A few of my friends have stuck by me, And assisted in lightening my load, But the way most of them would eye me; Soon caused me to hit for the road.

“From city to city I’ve wandered, And month after month rolled around; What money I had I soon squandered, But nowhere was peace to be found.

“Sometimes for a day I’d be cheerful, The thoughts of revenge would be still; And then my poor brain would be clear full Of him I had sworn I would kill.

“Well, yesterday evenin’ I met him, He begged and he pleaded and cried For help, but I’d promised to get him— I choked the dang cur till he died.

“To make the job certain I drilled him With five or six shots from my gun— I’d killed him, yes dang him, I’d killed him!— A cop came my way on the run.

“I started to run to the river, Then felt a sharp pain in my breast; And fell in the street all aquiver— A bullet had gone through my chest.

“There’s no use to tell you the rest, Doc, There’s nothin’ much more I can tell; I’m happy, what I did was best, Doc— They’re waitin’ for me down in hell.

“It feels like the room’s gettin’ colder; It’s dark and I’m startin’ to choke, There’s somethin’ ahold of my shoulder! So long Doc, I’m—goin’—to—croak.”

* * * * *

Going Down

Man’s life is a vapour And full of woes; He cuts a caper And down he goes, And down, and down, And down, and down, And down he goes.

* * * * *

In my ear is the moan of the pines; In my heart is the song of the sea And I feel his wild breath on my face As he showers his kisses on me. And I hear the wild scream of the gulls As they answer the call of the tide; And I see the white sails, as they glisten Like gems on the breast of a bride.

* * * * *

Hail to the Devil Dog

He’s a drinker and a driller, He’s a gambler and a sport; He’s a hard old hand at fighting, But at work he’s rather short, The devil likes his fighting, And the beauty way it’s done; He’s a cross between a Christian And the devil’s only son.

His vice is like the most of men, His virtue like a few, But when you thump his metal, You’ll find it’s ring is true; He’s honored by the title, Of a soldier and a man, He’s Uncle Sammy’s nephew, And all American.

* * * * *

A Tip For Wifey

When your husband telephones to say, “I won’t be home to-night Till after twelve, I’ve lots to do,” Just say, “Dear boy all right, I’m going out myself to-night And won’t be in till late.” Will he come home on time? You bet He’ll also come home straight.

* * * * *

Have a Drink, Boys?

They were on a fast train through Arkansas (?).

Every few minutes the lady across the aisle held a bottle to her lips. The traveling man was thirsty.

“How do you do,” said he. “What have you in that bottle, home brew?”

“No,” she said, “I have consumption.”

* * * * *

Always

Face the Music

Even if it is your landlady’s daughter playing “The Maiden’s Prayer” on a square piano. Some day you might be back on your board bill.

* * * * *

You need your money And I need mine, If we both get ours It will sure be fine, But if you get yours And hold mine, too, What in the divil Am I going to do?

* * * * *

In the Game of Love

In her first blossom, woman loves her lover; In all the others, all she loves is love. Here’s lovers two to the maiden true, And four to the maid caressing, But the wayward girl with the lips that curl, Keeps twenty lovers guessing.

* * * * *

The dramatic triangle is caused by people not being on the square.

Our Movie Gossip

Los Angeles lawyers are laughing up their sleeves over the story whispered in connection with the divorce suit of Agnes Schucker, known to the screen world as Agnes Ayres, the Lasky leading lady, recently elevated to stardom through the kindness of Wallie Reid. Because of the fact that few people in California ever knew Miss Ayers under the name of Schucker, the divorce suit of Agnes Schucker versus Captain Frank R. Schucker, now with the United States Army in France, attracted little if any attention. Thus it was, the gossips report, when pretty Agnes Schucker recently entered the court room of Judge Summerfield, attired in a plain brown dress and inconspicuous black hat, there were few in the spectators’ gallery and none recognized the demure plaintiff as the Lasky star.

Tearfully Agnes’ mother told on the witness stand how she had to care for her daughter, because of the alleged failure of Captain Schucker to support Agnes. The mother’s testimony aroused the sympathy of the court and the spectators, and there was a mention of a co-respondent “Lillian.”

Everything was going lovely for Agnes until a cinema person from Hollywood recognized her in the court room and unceremoniously tipped off her identity to the judge. Hizzoner appeared peeved because Agnes put on a little cinema drama all her own in his court room, assisted by mamma’s weeps, and he threw the case out of court.

Agnes’ lawyers then reopened the case on the grounds of desertion and soon she is expecting to be traveling in single bliss. According to the gossips, Agnes came back into court in the second trial her own real movie self, and attired in a champagne colored gown trimmed in green, and wearing a lavender hat trimmed with ostrich plumes. Mother, so it is reported, explained later to the judge that she “misunderstood” the question and that she merely meant she and Agnes lived in the same house; not that she had to support her “victimized” daughter.

Incidentally, Agnes has Wallie Reid to thank for her rapid rise in filmdom, and Wallie, by the way, gives so many teas and dinners that it is said he has to have two homes in order to accommodate all the parties, the second one being somewhere in Laurel Canyon, and Agnes is rated among his favorite dinner guests.

* * * * *

We have heard a story concerning our good friend Samuel Merwin, and if it is true, we will have to give Samuel a gold medal. Sammie is out west writing for the movies, and recently attended an exclusive house party at Riverside. The story goes that on the homeward drive he was permitted to escort a beautiful English girl. About two miles had been traveled, so ’tis said, when the chauffeur reported the usual “blow-outs” and “missings” and that Merwin and the girl had to wait long weary hours during the “fixing” process.

All of the young eligibles in California have been trying to land the lovely English girl, but not Merwin, according to our bevy of Whiz Bang Bunkers, because even the most loose-tongued gossips admit the probability that during the two hours of waiting, Merwin went to sleep and let the London beauty wait alone.

Ah, romance, to where hath thou departed?

* * * * *

It wasn’t many months ago when J. Parker Reid, the director, with his star, Louise Glaum, and other members of the company, took a little trip to Tia Juana and San Diego. Of course, they went over to the Coronada Hotel for dinner and there J. Parker Reid met a bevy of society folk.

Now, you haven’t any idea how the society folk at Coronada fuss over movie people. The Coronada crowd are an idle set with plenty of money, little to do and an ambition to be considered clever. By informally hob-nobbing with the writers and players of the movie colony from Hollywood, they gain a new mental punch and are able to assume some of the glamour, always emanating from the people who do interesting things.

Louise Glaum has been conscientious in her art, you know. She is one of the really hard working, conscientious women of her profession, and we’ve heard she has some dependent relatives to support, and that she never had much schooling, but has studied very hard by herself, and that altogether her life hasn’t been an easy one.

Louise’s pictures stopped making money a year or two ago, then she became friendly with J. Parker and the tide in her fortunes seemed to change. Reid perhaps fell in love with her, at least temporarily, and she perhaps with him, and besides he raised capital to star her again. The pictures were a success financially, and all the world seemed rosy for the hard working actress.

But, that trip to Coronada. J. Parker Reid, it seems, was fussed over a wealthy Mrs. Piper. To her, a great motion picture director maybe was a new idol for adoration.

We wonder how it’s all coming out. J. Parker Reid some weeks ago made it clear to Louise that their affair was over. In June he married Mrs. Piper. Life’s a funny little game after all.

* * * * *

We are sorry to learn that some of the scandal mongers are whispering derogatory rumors anent Jack Mulhall, because of the suicide of Laura Mulhall in Hollywood while the decorations of the seventh wedding anniversary party were still on the walls of their pretty home. Those who are well acquainted with Jack declare he always was a “square shooter”; that he had a splendid disposition and as a husband was as nearly right as he knew how. He and his wife were constantly together and as far as friends could see, she had been happy with him. The scandal peddlers fail to appreciate the damage which they are doing to the future career of Mulhall, not to mention the shadow placed over the three-year-old freckle-faced boy.

* * * * *

Our Local Color

Our good friend Gemmell, of the Minnesota and International Railroad, wasn’t the railroad president who thought a gondola was a bird. In fact, the blame is laid to Mr. Casey for suggesting that his company purchase one male and one female gondola, so as to stock the city park of Brainerd, Minn., with a flock or herd or covey of little gondolas.

* * * * *

Our friend Liebst reports that since his poem, the Hoboes Convention, appeared in the Whiz Bang, he has received several letters from railroad managers requesting permission to name a few box cars after him. Oh, Fame, where is thy sting?

* * * * *

Ham Tomlin says he thinks he is growing old. He used to be able to kiss his wife 20 times a day but now it take him all day to get up nerve enough to kiss her once.

* * * * *

Don’t get jealous, boys, but I’ve just finished drinking some stuff that was strong enough to make a rabbit slap a bulldog in the face.

* * * * *

It’s a lean Jane that has no curves.

Pasture Pot Pourri

Velvet Joe Says—

_Don’t fuss with hubby about droppin’ tobacco ashes on the carpet. Them ashes keep the moths out an’ the hubby in._

* * * * *

Some folks would rather Blow their own horns than Listen to Sousa’s Band.

* * * * *

Greatness does not depend on size. Napoleon if he were living today would never get a job as a cop.

* * * * *

And Very Nice, Too!

A feller was engaged to a girl who was a twin. When asked how he told them apart, he said: “Well, they’re both nice girls.”

* * * * *

=_Our friend Deegan insists an Irishman dies only when an angel is needed in heaven._=

* * * * *

How can a man get a headache without brains?

* * * * *

A Family Dialogue

He—I’m not coming home tonight, dearie.

She—May I depend on that? (Oh, boy!)

* * * * *

Let’s Call It the Cockeyed Blues

My girl’s eyes are so beautiful they can’t keep from looking at each other.

* * * * *

=_Remember, boys, the turtle may be slow, but he’s always there for the soup._=

* * * * *

We could love a girl as “pretty as a picture” provided she had a good frame.

* * * * *

Honest, This Is True

I no’a fel’la named Fawcett, Who went to his cel’la dee’pos’it, But when he got dare, The barrel was bare, And “Gus” was asleep at the Fau’cet.

* * * * *

Our idea of the height of vanity is to stand in front of a looking glass when you’re asleep.

* * * * *

Pathetic, Ye Gods, Too Pathetic

An Irishman and a Scotchman were standing at a bar—and the Irishman had no money.

* * * * *

Glorious Daze

Two drunks on a train.

No. 1—“Whas sha time?”

No. 2 (pulling card case out of pocket)—“Thurshday.”

No. 1—“Thash our stashon. Letsh get off.”

* * * * *

Try This One

=_The wedding cake was heavy, but the candles made it light._=

* * * * *

=_If your girl shakes you, don’t get rattled._=

* * * * *

Something to Worry About!

A New Brunswick priest covered his eyes in shame as some girls passed him at a bathing beach.

* * * * *

We Dodged Two Yesterday

The starving pole cat leaned against the post without a cent.

* * * * *

“I’ll stick to you whate’er betide, Though all the world may scoff.” Thus spoke the heavy flannel shirt, But the man said, “Aw, come off!”

* * * * *

He led her to the altar, ’twas merely tit for tat; He led her to the altar, she led him after that.

* * * * *

He stood on the bridge at midnight, Beneath the heaven’s great dome, Because he was married and the jag that he carried, Made him afraid to go home.

* * * * *

=_When I go to bed at night I snore so loud I cannot sleep. In fact, I am often compelled to go into the next room so that I may not hear myself snore._=

* * * * *

“How is the milk maid?” He said with a bow. “It isn’t made, Sir, It comes from a cow.”

* * * * *

Very Versatile

We heard the story the other day about a sailor at a ship’s concert who was unable to sing as scheduled on the program, and who offered in lieu thereof to show the audience the pictures tattoed on his chest.

* * * * *

Paris Made

_A world war veteran hobbled into the hardware store the other day and ordered some “tacks.”_

_“What kind?” asked the clerk._

_“I want to use them for garters,” said the lame Vet._

* * * * *

A New Fad

(A street sign in St. Paul)

“GET YOUR SHOES SHINED INSIDE.”

* * * * *

X-Y-Z Tragedy

“Combination shot,” murmured the pool shark, as he leaned too far over the billiard table.

* * * * *

A Brief History

Whiz Bang history of the world war:

I want to go home!

When do we eat?

Who won the war? The Y.M.C.A.

Don’t stand there, soldier. This is for officers only.

If I hit, I don’t want any change.

Was that pay day or mess call?

Villa vouz promenade, M’lle?

The battle of Vim Rouge.

Mademoiselle fidelle, finee leguerre.

Hello, Statue of Liberty!

* * * * *

An Autumn Song Success

IF I HAVEN’T THE RENT THIS MONTH, DON’T YOU THINK THE LANDLORD OUGHT TO HELP ME OUT?

* * * * *

Our Sentimental Melody

_We have received several requests for copies of our original song success published several months ago entitled, “You are a million miles from nowhere when you hold her dainty hand.”_

* * * * *

What a Pity

Mike O’Reilly, of Butte, gazed mournfully at the corpse of his late friend, who had but recently become an atheist, muttering to himself, “You sure look fine, a clean shave, a new suit of clothes and a pair of white gloves on you. All dressed up—and no place to go.”

* * * * *

Zoology

When they first met he said, “a bear.” He’d dog her footsteps everywhere. She monkeyed with him for a year, Although she said he was a deer. A little horse-play hitched the two, Now he’s the goat, it’s nothing gnu.

* * * * *

Our London Report

To a young man who stood smoking a cigar the other day there approached the elderly and impertinent reformer of meek and mild reputation.

“How many cigars do you smoke a day?” asked the meddler.

“Three,” answered the youth, as patiently as he could.

“How much do you pay for them?”

“A shilling each,” confessed the young man.

“Don’t you know, sir,” continued the sage, “that if you saved that money, by the time you are as old as I am you could own that big building over the way?”

“Do you own it?” inquired the smoker.

“No.”

“Well, I do,” replied the young man.

Japanese Bathing Beauties

BY REV. GOLIGHTLY MORRILL

Pastor People’s Church, Minneapolis, Minn.

To the religious rambler, Japan is divided into two parts—that which is inhabited by the Geisha girls, and that “cohabited” by the Yoshiwara.