Newspaper Page Text
THE CREOLE CARNIVALS.
SOME MERRY MEMORIES OF FAMOUS
MARDI GRAS.
The South Preparing for Next Month’*
PeMlval—The Rollicking Jollitie* Whioti
Precede the Solemn Lenten Seaaon.
Pun That t Taken Serldunly-—History.
ISperkil ('orrwsp..ndenee )
Mobile. Jan. 29. —The extreme south
1b preparing for the creole carnivals.
Two gulf cities. Mobile and New Or
leans, will spend nearly a quarter of a
million of dollars next month in cele
brating the Mardi Gras fest*. The mys
tic programme will be carried out in the
usual magnificent scale, and the Ameri
can from the cold north can witness in
his own country, in this land of the
magnolia and the orange, a spectacle
more gorgeous than the time honored
Venetian carnivals, more alluring than
ORIGIN OF THE CARNIVAL,
the bal masque in the giddy capital on
the Seine. The new south, busier and
braver now than ever before in its event
ful history, does not forget in the hurry
of its money getting prosperity the in
cognita, the famous frolics, the delicious
intrigue of the Mardi Gras which pre
cedes the gloomy Lenten season. It
gives freely to this ancient cnstom and
pays royal tribute to the mummer Icing.
It is all very strange to the northern
born and bred citizen. The New’ Yorker,
the New Englander, the Chicagoan can
scarcely conceive an annual festival pre
sided over by an unknown charivari
who. in his absurd and glittering person
ality, issues edicts which are implicitly
obeyed by the serious commercial world.
The sw’ay of this merry monarch is as
absolute as that of the Russian czar.
At the royal command businn • erases,
banks close, schools suspend, and all the
aspects of a legal holiday are assumed
by both cities. Even the courts cease
their warring and fretful troubles, and
the mayor and civic dignitaries humor
the popular comedy so far as to ride
forth in state and deliver up the keys of
the city, and with them its absolute
practical control, to the lord high cham
berlain of his mimic majesty. In u some
what lesser degree this festival is carried
out in Vicksburg, Memphis, Pensacola
and even 8k Louis. Truly it is all
"most excellent fooling.”
All over the south today one sees these
“edicts" that precede tho carnivals, and
which are their most peculiar and per
haps their most effective adjunct.
Weeks in advance brilliant placards,
bearing illuminated devices of carnival
royalty and couched in hyper-oriental
flowers of command, are distributed
"broadcast in every city and along every
line of travel within reach. These are
regarded with singular consideration by
the public, even reaching a semi-official
force, while rail and river lines combine
obedience with their own best interests
and cut down round trip travel to al
most nominal rates. Thus curiosity
goes hand in hand with convenience,
and the vast incoming throngs combine
pleasure travelers, health seekers and
business men who delay their visits for
this favoring time. Such make up the
composite crowds of Mardi Gras noon
all trending to those central points an
nounced in the edicts for the royal
progress.
STREET SCENE DURING MARDI GRAS.
It was here in Mobile that Mardi Gras
first saw the light of day. According to
an entertaining local pamphlet, entitled
“Creole Carnivals,” it appears that on
New Year’s eve, just sixty years ago,
Michael Kraft and a few jolly citizens
of Mobile supped at a then famous creole
restaurant. Wine perhaps flowed freely
before the midnight revelers, homeward
bound, passed a hardware store belong
ing to one of their number. Rakes,
scythes, gongs and cowbells, as was the
custom, hung without as signs. A raid
was made, these strange instruments
making music for serenade to -several
citizens. As each of these appeared to
quell the clamor he was impressed into
the ranks of the revelers, and the last
visit was to the mayor, who invited the
party in—to breakfast! Next year this
augmented party supped, paraded and
serenaded, the strange emblems now so
well known again having use. The
third year was marked by more forma
lated fun, under mask. This was the
acorn—a very little one from which to ;
spring the perfected pageantry of all
the intervening year* —out of which
came the creole carnival, at present ex
intent and known by name wherever
| Americans travel or read.
Now the festival is an affair of mighty
proportions, anticipated and in prepara
tion a whole year. It ends in a glitter
ing pandemonium, but one strangely
decent, never carrying levity over the j
bounds of sense. Absolute liberty pre
vails daring the three days and nights,
but it is a liberty that is never abased.
And here is the marvel, the really strange
feature of this strange festival, that
there should be such perfect order and
reticence in this seeming mob of uncon
trolled and disguised men from every
station of society. All who wish to wear
the mask and frolic in stage attire may
do so, but license, profanity or vicious
ness is never heard of in the dazzling
display. To many the grand dances are '
the feature of the occasion, and the
stories told of the splendor and brilliancy
read like fairy tales.
Mr. De Leon, a farnons historian of
Mardi Gras, tells me of the most daring
stride in ball giving at the creole carni
vals with which its picturesque history
is familiar. It was given at the Mobile
theatre. Changed at the touch of their
enchanter’s wand into the court of a
feudal castle, its galleries became the
turreted ramparts, gay with flutter- j
ing banners of Burgundy, Lorraine, J
Brunswick and Champagne, m strong re
lief to solid seeming stonework. The
rise from dancing floored parquet to
stage was spanned by a heavy dra w- j
bridge, with moat and barbican and
portcullis. This was raised while the •
guests were received by the sponsor com
mittee, the drop curtain representing a
massive and studded gate that shut off
the stage. Suddenly from the streets
without
Far off a solitary trumpet blew,
and quickly the lookholee of moat tow
ers were manned by warders blowing
notes of welcome. The drawbridge slow
ly fell across the moat as the portcullis
rose up on massive chains. Then was
disclosed the beautiful banquet chamber
of mediaeval days, with grim stonework
relieved by tapestry portieres and stained
glass windows, ooloring a pretty group
of fairest matrons and maidens of the
city. These represented the baroness i
and her maidens, being by special selec
tion the “Queen of the Revel” and her
attendants. Kneeling at her feet a pretty
page received a gracious nod of assent,
and took the huge key of the outer gate
from the wall where it hung.
QUEEN OF THE REVEL.
Tripping across the entire floor, by
this time cleared to a wide lane by the
committee, the page unlocked the great
outer barbican gate, the main doors of
the theatre. As the second portcullis
creaked upward a startled cry arose
from all the guests behind the silken
ropes of the improvised roadway from
gate to moat. For, dashing in at full
speed, their beautiful horses felt shod
and their armors flashing and plumes
flat from the speed, came some forty
mounted knights, with visors down, re
turning from the foray.
Straight at the drawbridge they rode
at speed; over it and on the sawdust of
the inner court upon the stage. Here
each leaped from his saddle, his horse
led quick!}- ont of sight by armed esquire,
and, making obeisance to the baroness,
joined his chosen maiden. As the last
rider cleared the drawbridge the band
began a modern waltz, the court passed
across the moat to the dancing floor
(painted as a tesselated courtyard) and
the ball began, as the silken barrier
ropes and padded roadway disappeared
as though by magic.
Other Mardi Gras balls have surpassed
this one in splendor, but none has quite
ventured on its dariug and effective
realism. Now the people who gather at
these balls are by no means the motley ele
ment Caste is strong in the south, and
polite society is careful of its associa
tions. Notwithstanding the incognito
of the mask, the blue blood must not
mingle with the common herd, and un
less one is what is considered well born
or introduced he cannot enter here.
There is sometimes a ridiculous side to
this sort of thing, but if the “Four Hun
dred" alone pay for the piper, surely
they may be allowed to dance and
choose tlieir own company. And that is
to the northerner a strange feature of
the Mardi Gras festivities. All the dis
play, the processions, the magnificent
balls are a princely gratuity to the pub
lic. There are no public subscriptions.
The mystic orders which comprise the
financial and social solidity of the town
pay all the bills.
No outsider knows whence the money
comes. Unless he is of the elect he is
not asked to contribute.
To the colored element of the south
this festival is also the great event of the
year, and the amount of speculation as
to what the procession will comprise is
indeed amusing to listen to. You will
frequently see a big, gaunt negro ex
plaining to his admiring associates the
wonders he has seen at previous festi
vals, and regaling them with exagger
ated stories of what is to come.
Mardi Gras comes early this year,
Feb. 9 being Shrove Tuesday. Already
is heard in the cities the busy note of
preparation.
Frkd'k W. White.
THE FADS OF STATESMEN
WALTER WELLMAN HAS BEEN QUI
ETLY WATCHING THEM.
Whitt He Ha* I .earned A boat Them He
Hi Here Writteu I>own for Curlou*
Readers to Carefully Peruse and Ru
minate Upon.
[Special Correspondence.]
Washington, Jan. 29— The greatest of
men have their small traits, their little
peculiarities. President Harrison dis
likes a tall hat, though of course he often
sacrifices personal predilection to consid
erations of dignity and propriety. He
has always had a horror of public barber
shops, and the man who now trims his
beard and cute his hair—the court bar
ber—has performed a like service for
Mr. Harrison for fifteen or twenty years.
At Indianapolis the president rarely or
never visited a barber shop, but always
had his man come to him at home or at
his office.
The president’s favorite hat is the
derby, but Senator Plumb couldn’t be
hired to wear anything but a soft slouch
hat, which looks all the more slouchy
from Mr. Plumb’s way of wearing it
Senator Wolcott hasn’t worn any sort of
shoes except patent leather since he
came to Washington. Senator Voorhees
has worn the same style of neckties
plain, black silk, “string” ties—ever since
he was a boy, and will probably wear
them, and none other, as long as he lives.
Another hobby of the Indiana senator
is his fondness for a large silver watch.
It is an old fashioned timepiece, almost
es big as one of those dollar alarm
clocks which have driven so many men
to profanity by their premature ex
plosions, and the senator has carried it
since he left his home in Ohio about
forty years ago. It was liis father’s be
fore him, and will be his son’s when he
is gone. Senator Sawyer has a mania
for anti-fat literature, anti-fat experi
ments and anti-fat remedies. He is the
acknowledged authority in congress on
this subject, and speaks as one with per
sonal knowledge, for by eating light and
often and eschewing fluids he has re
duced his weight fifty pounds in six
months. As nothing succeeds like suc
cess, all the fat men in Washington are
rushing to Senator Sawyer for advice.
Senator Ingalls has two or three hob
bies. One of these is rooting around old
bookstores; another is red neckties, and
a third is wearing a tight fitting coat, al
ways buttoned from top to bottom. Maj.
McKinley expends a good deal of his
surplus energy in smoking cigars. He
is one of the most inveterate smokers in
congress. Another of Mr. McKinley’s
peculiarities is his fondness for the use
of the words “United States” in debate,
Mr. McKinley never fails to improve an
opportunity to use these words, for he
loves to roll them on his tongue.
Mr. McKinley pronounces “United
States” very much in this fashion—
"Y-o-u-n-t-ted St-a-a-tes,” and if he has
occasion to sjieak of the president he is
always the “President of the United
States.” The senate is “The senate of
the United States,” and the treasury is
“The treasury of the United States.”
Senator Gorman, whose oratorical man
ners are much like those of Mr. McKin
ley, has a similar fail. He rarely or never
addresses the presiding officer of the
senate without saying, “Now, Mr. Pres
ident.” One day last week, during the
great debate on the elections bill, Mr.
Gorman made his usual exclamation,
“Now, Mr. President,” when his atten
tion was diverted by some of his col
leagues, who whispered to him advice or
suggestions concerning his remarks. It
thus happened that Mr. Gorman repeated
his favorite phrase no fewer than five
times, with rather comical effect.
Senator Reagan, of Texas, is never
happy unless he has strings or pieces of
oord to play with, twirling them about
in his fingers, testing their strength, ty
ing them iu knots, and then untying
them again. Senator Kenna, of West
Virginia, is a paper chewer. He is con
tinually snipping off comers of letters or
sheets of paper and putting them in his
mouth. Sometimes he uses pieces of
cord or binding twine, and one recent
day he cut a queer figure going about
the senate chamber with a couple of
yards of red ribbon dangling from his
mouth. The spectators craned their
necks and asked one another what the
trouble Was with the senator from West
Virginia. The answer was simple. Mr.
Kenna had simply begun to exercise his
infantile propensity upon the end of a
ball of red tape.
An old fad is that of Congressman
George Adams, of Illinois. Mr. Adams,
though never at sea, is passionately fond
of sea stories. He reads all the sea tales
he can get hold of, and amuses himself
drawing diagrams of the sibling courses
of ships described in the stories, and of
the scenes of wrecks and disasters.
From his familiarity with the fiction of
the sea Mr. Adams has become a master
of nautical terms, which he is too mod
est to use. Some day, no doubt, the
congressman will take a sea voyage, and
come back determined to become a
sailor, even if he lias to buy a yacht for
his own use or ship before the mast of a
lake schooner.
Senator Cockrell is the only man I
know of in the aristocratic end of the
Capitol who has the audacity to smoke a
pipe within the sacred precincts of the
house of lords. During one of the recent
night sessions Mr. Cockrell was among
the absentees, and the sergeant-at-arnis
received Instructions to hunt him up
and bring him into the chamber. While
that official was searching high and low
Mr. Cockrell was snuggled away in a
comer of the cloak room, enjoying a
smoke from a long corncob pipe made
in his beloved Missouri. When he heard
that he was wanted the senator refilled
his pipe, came to the door leading to the
chamber and there stood puffing defiance
in the face of the senate.
Senator Wolcott is tl*e only left handed
man in the upper branch of congress.
• Congressman Hopkins, of Illinois, is not
only left handed, bnt has a way of turn
ing the paper wrong end to while writ
ing, so that he looks at the lines from
the top instead of from the bottom.
Senator Edmunds twirls his thumbs or
rubs his nose with his two forefingers
joined together. Speaker Reed has a
habit of standing with his hands clasped
behind his back.
Joe Blackburn is like a big, awkward
boy—there is always some cut, sprain or
bruise on his body. First, he slips on
the ice and hurts his leg; then he cracks
the bones in his left arm, and to this
day wears that member in a sling. An
other of his peculiarities is failure to an
swer to his name on the first roll call.
One day last week the tally clerk, in
calling the roll of the senate, called out
Blackburn’s name as usual, and, as
usual, was about to call the next name
without the customary pause for a re
sponse, when Blackburn sang out a “no”
which made the gas fixtures rattle, and
filled the clerk with astonishment and
confusion.
One of Senator Cullom’s characteristics
is his smile. The senior senator from
Illinois, who looks like Abraham Lin
coln, and who may some day be presi
dent, is always smiling. He smiles when
he is good natured and when he is not,
when he is saying unpleasant things as
well as pleasant, when praising or damn
ing. He cannot help smiling any more
than he can help breathing, and it fol
lows that Mr. Cullo* is a man who
makes many friends and few enemies.
A peculiarity of Senator Bate is that,
although he is very fond of tobacco, and
always has a cigar in a corner of his
mouth, no one in Washington has ever
seen him smoke in the ordinary accepta
tion of the term. His cigar is never
lighted, and he enjoys what he calls a
“dry smoke.” He has a reason for this
which is worth relating. He was a
brigadier general in the Confederate
army, and connected with his brigade
was his brother, also an officer of high
rank. The two were always together.
Both were smokers, and even in the field
the thin bine curls of smoke could be
seen ascending from their cigars.
During one of the most fiercely fought
battles of the war Gen. Bate and his
brother were together as usual watch
ing the progress of the fight. They were
on an eminence, and although within
range of the enemy’s batteries proceeded
to indulge themselves as usual in the
weed. Gen. Bate drew out from his
pocket two cigars, and handing one to
his brother took the other himself, and
then asked for a light. His brother struck
a match on his box, and just as he was
offering it to the general a cannon ball
came along and struck him right in the
face. The poor fellow’s head was taken
off as cleanly as though it had been done
with a sword. From that day to this
Senator Bate has never lighted a cigar.
Senator Brown, of Georgia, who is
now sick, and whose successor will be
the “fighting Governor” Gordon, had
a habit when speaking of always rub
bing his hands together. This peculiar
trait called forth from Mr. Ingalls that
memorable attack on Mr. Brown, in
which he characterized him as “a Uriah
Heap, continually washing his hands
in imperceptible water with invisible
soap.” Mr. Hiscock, whether on his feet
speaking or in his chair, is all the while
running his hands through his hair,
which with some vanity he has ar
ranged in thick rolling locks, which fall
in gray ripples over his forehead.
Senator Edmunds, who is very bald,
has a horror of draughts, and often
wears a skull cap in going through the
senate corridors. Senator Tidier, who
wears his thick, tawny hair pompadour,
has a way of stroking his bangs upward
every few minutes. An oddity of Sena
tor Plumb, one which greatly adds to
his resemblance to a big, good natures!
farmer, is his habit of.running his thumb
under his waistcoat at the shoulder to
straighten out his suspender strap. This
he does about once in five minutes, espe
cially when standing on his feet engaged
in conversation. He does it sometimes
while making a speech, just as the
fanner does when he stops to rest with
the plow or the rake.
Senator Sawyer is fond of big red ap
ples, and often comes into the senate
chamber with three or four in his arms,
and then passes them out to his neigh
bors. His colleague, little Senator
Spooner, is a “dry” smoker, and goes
around half the time with an unlit cigar
between his lips or in his fingers. Sen
ator Daniel is still another “dry” smoker.
Roger Q. Mills is a toothpick fiend.
Springer, of Illinois, besides his famous
red buttonhole bouquet, is noted for the
way in which he picks at the buttons on
the ooats of the friends with whom he
holds conversation.
Senator Hawley, of Connecticut, is al
ways fumbling in his pockets like a
schoolboy. Julius Caesar Burrows seems
to think his trousers pockets were made
to keep his hands in. Billy Mason, of
Chicago, never combs his hair. Senator
George, of Mississippi, wears two pairs
of glasses at once—one for reading and
the other for long range. Senator Mor
rill takes a long nap every afternoon in
the Republican cloak room, and is so
regular in this indulgence that at about
1 o’clock senators who may be sitting on
Mr. Morrill’s favorite couch consider
ately get up and move away, so that the
coast may be clear for the aged states
man from Vermont. Senator Evarts
wears eoats two or three sizes too large
for him, for the purpose, it is supposed,
of concealing to some extent the spare
ness of his frame.
Henry Cabot Lodge has a sweet tooth,
and five or six times a day ..on an average,
sends a page out for caramels. Ben But
terworth puts his arm around you if you
stand beside him or walk by his side.
Joe Cannon never fails to rest one hand
on your shoulder while talking to you,
as if to reassure you that he means to
do you no harm with the other, which
he uses f-or purposes of gesticulation.
Walter Wellman.
The lamented Bishop Gilbert Haven
said of the lay representation of women
in the general conference: “It is bound
to come, and women will yet be sent to
this highest legislative and judicial as
sembly of the Methodist church, and
women will yet he ordained bishops.”
And he remarked further to Mrs. Liver
more: “Yon will live to see it. I shall
not.”
THE FASHIONS OF TODAY
OLIVE HARPER VISITS THE ATELIER
OF A MODISTE.
There the Correspondent Sees Some of
the Gowns Shortly to Be Worn by New
York Women of Wealth—A Few Words
Aboat Spring Wsnps.
[Special Correspondence.]
New York, Jan. 29.—Yesterday I vis
ited the atelier of a very famous modiste,
and was favored with a sight of a mag
nificent array of new dresses which are
for some of the leaders of fashion in New
York. A most beautiful ball gown, just
imported for Mrs. W. K. Vanderbilt,
GRAY GOWN —MRS. W. K. VANDERBILT’S
DRESS.
has the front of snowflake crepe, puffed
on to the foundation skirt, and held in
places by tiny pink velvet bows, each
bow having a diamond set in the center.
The skirt is en train and covered with
puffed crepe.
The overdress is of white satin sub
lime, embroidered all around with a band
of pink silk and silver threads. There
is a swathing sash around the slim waist
and long loops and ends. The sash is
pink Japanese crepe. The satin over
dress is cut en princesse, is slightly
looped at the sides, and is open in front,
V shaped, and edged with the embroid
ery in a narrower border. The front is
filled in -with white snowflake crepe, and
has two rows of tiny pink and white
daisies crossing the breast and festooned
on the shoulder just below the standing
ruffles made of the crepe. Pink crepe is
drawn down to a point below this on the
arm and tied in a small knot. With this
is to be worn a splendid triple necklace
of large diamonds, and a star of the same
precious stones in the liair. The illustra
tion will show how the entire costume
was arranged, and permit uf any uue
copying it, even to the jewels, who feels
the desire. It don’t cost much—only
about $75,000, jewels included.
The dainty and subdued little gown
shown beside hers in the cut is of pearl
gray cashmere and brocaded silk. The
form is princesse front and back, and of
the cashmere, there are three gathered
bias ruffles at the foot in front, which is
quite a favorite way of trimming. The
back is princesse, in cashmere, and the
sides, sleeves and corsage all are of the
brocade, which is of dark gray and black.
The whole gown is exceedingly tasteful
and graceful, and would be an easy task
for the home dressmaker.
Spring wraps are now worn during
mild days by those ladies who like to
have the name among their friends of
always being the first to wear a style. I
noticed a pretty pelisse in dark brown
cheviot, trimmed with a wide band of
beaver all around the bottom. It was
belted in a point close at the waist and
hung almost to the ground. Around the
waist was a thick cord of brown silk,
which was woven into a pretty pattern
in front, and tied in a double bowknot
at the back, and there were very hand
some ornaments on the ends. The sleeves
were covered witli heavy braiding, and
the waist had the same in Figaro style.
Cap sleeves of brown velvet were edged
BROWN PELISSE —GREEN WALKING SUIT,
with beaver, and there was a round col
lar of the same. A brown velvet hat,
with brown and yellow plumes, finished
the whole outfit, which was very hand
some.
Another new and very stylish outdoor
garment is a coat made of dark green
diagonal, trimmed with cuffs, pocket lids
and rolling collar of passementerie.
The vest front is of velvet in a darker
shade to match the hat, which is trim
med with green and brown ribbons and
feathers.
The skirt is of gray serge, cut in deep
Vandyke points, gach edged with an
inch wide band of castle braid. Be
neath tike points is a wide band of green
and black brocade.
These points, as well as rounded tabs
with contrasting material beneath, some
times set on plain, but more often ruffled
or plaited, are very popular for walking
dresses. Made of silk or crepe, with
tulle or chiffon fan, they are very pretty
for evening dresses. Olive Harper.
A NEW LITERARY LIGHT.
_
Sketch of the Rine of Richard Htrdiig
Davis.
[Special Correspondence. ]
New York, Jan. 29.—At my right at
the Clover club dinner the other night
sat a slender, dark complexioned young
gentleman whose name I did not catch
at first. When in the fullness of
It pleased the chairman to summon this
particular victim to the crucial test of
addressing the club, he proved to be too
cunning to make a speech. He went to
the piano, and after strumming for a
minute or so to get a simple chord he
began singing the wierdest thing I ever
heard, ontside of the keening of Irish
women at a wake in the coal regions
after the Molly Maguires were hanged.
It was Rudyard Kipling’s “Files on
Parade,” set to music that was com
posed by the singer, and the singer was
Richard Harding Davis.
Next morning it was announced in the
newspapers that John Foord, formerly
editor of the New York Times, had re
signed his position as managing editor
of Harper’s Weekly, and that the 26-year
old boy whom I had heard at the Clover
club, singing in a way to astonish the
company, had been engaged to take Mr,
Foord’s place.
It is no great wonder that Mr. Davis
admires Kipling, for he is a good deal of
a comet himself. He was born in Phila
delphia, and comes honestly by bis tal
ent, having inherited it. His father is
L. Clark Davis, a veteran newspaper
man whom George W. Childs long ago
retained on The Ledger, and his mother
is Rebecca Harding Davis. Arthur Bris
bane, of The New York Evening Sun,
who claims the honor of having helped
to start young Davis, tells me this about
him:
He went to two colleges—the Lehigh
university and the Johns Hopkins, but
did not graduate at either—preferring
newspaper work to college routine. Be
ginning at 19, he went to work as a re
porter on The Philadelphia Press and
did some notable writing. Among other
things he went to live for five or six
weeks among the thieves of the Quaker
City, and landed six burglars in Moya
mensing besides writing some startling
cop}’. Drifting from paper to paper, as
reporters will, he made his mark in all
the Philadelphia offices. Together with
“Mort” McMichael he started a small
sheet called The Stage, which soon died.
In 1888 The Press sent him to London
with the American cricket team, and
while there he wrote in addition to his
sporting letters some descriptions of
Whitechapel that were syndicated to all
RICHARD HARDING DAVIS,
the prominent American newspapers.
On his return he obtained a letter from
Mr. Childs to Joseph Pulitzer, and came
to New York to go to work on The
World, but on his way to a hotel he met
Mr. Brisbane, who proposed that he
should go instead to The Evening Sun.
Davis was nothing loth, and walked on
up the street with a hatbox and a bun
dle of walking stick* in his hands. On.
his way to the hotel he was met by
Sheeney Mike, the famous bunco op
erator, who, judging by Davis’ very
British garments that he was a stranger,
proceeded to take him in.
Davis went with him joyously, mak
ing aq excuse, however, to run away for
a few minutes. These minutes he util
ized by going to The Evening Sun office
and asking if they wanted a bunco story.
They did. He returned, was “played
for a sucker,” and picking out the chief
of the gang told him that he had plenty
of money at the Astor House, and would
go and get it. They started, and when
they were on Broadway Davis collared
his man and called for a policeman. In
half an hour he had his prisoner in the
Tombs, and an hour later his first story
was writteu for The Evening Sun.
Since then he has done great quantities
of most excellent work for that paper
and much outside work. A special fac
ulty he has is for rapid writing. Some
of his “Van Bibber” and “Travers”
stories have been turned off inside of an
hour, and have been specially praised
for their high finish. He has also writ
ten much verse and a few notable maga
zine stories. Among these the two
which have attracted most attention are
“My Disreputable Friend Mr. Reagan”
and “The Cynical Miss Catherwaight.”
He has also made a name in the leading
sporting papers as the best descriptive
writer on football of the present genera
tion.
One of his earliest stories, called “Gal
lagher,” attracted the attention of Mr.
James R. Osgood, the veteran Bostonian,
now the London representative of Har
per Bros., aad he, making inquiries as
to the author, declared that if Davis
should write a book he would be glad
to publish it in Loudon, for he was sure
it would make a hit. Similar recogni
tion by others led to the offering of the
place of managing editor of Harper's
Weekly to him when the veteran Mr.
Foord was compelled by ill health to re
sign it. Mr. Davis will assume charge
on the Ist of February, and in the
mean time is traveling, partly on busi
ness and partly for pleasure.
Among the.characteristics which make
him, even at his present age, a conspicu
ous man is his athletic training. He
is remarkably strong without looking
so, and is an adept at most outdoor
sports. He is unmarried.
David A. Curtis.