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%k BIST HUMOR, MOVING V PICTURES, 'VAUDEVILLE. SI A b eogonWii S3 DtlSo0 33Q3 : aaq^iaarorr' jo iWSbonw A Catching Ncu) Story. Order your SUNDAY AMERICAN FOR JUNE 1st NOW The Truth About the Bass Fiddle By Joe Cawthorn By T. E. Powers, the Famous Cartoonist Copyright, 1013, by the Star Company. Great Britain Rights Reserved. (Leading Comedian in “The Sunshine Girl”) Copyright, 1913, by the Star Company. Great Britain Rights Reserved O F all the stringed creatures that roam this earth, the bass fiddle Is the lonesomest. It Is more to be pitied than carried around. And It Is entirely too particular. Always has to be chaperoned by a full orchestra, or it won't play. The bull fiddle Is the only Instrument you can’t play a solo on. Funny thing, its music is so low. It's too loud. But one good feature of the big violin is its dual personality. When the orchestra doesn’t play In the melodrama, between songs, the bass viol goes behind the scenes and plays the thunder. It's cheaper and surer than having two Hons behind there to growl, anil It gives the same effect. Often I have wondered why in Orpheus a man learns to play such a helpless instrument. The big fiddle is a charity Institution Itself. X never saw anybody so dependent. You have to leave It in the theatre all night, because you can’t take it in the subway, so you have to desert It and buy Insurance for it. Same as paying alimony. If you don’t live with it you have to pay for the privilege of living away from it, that’s all. They say whoever plays a bass fiddle Is sure to be a well-posted musician. I say he's not a musician, but he may be well-posted, because he gets falling arches from standing up all the time, and sooner or later has to wear crutches. Before I studied the statistics of base-vlolers, 1 used to wonder what became of all the famous wood-sawers and roast beef carvers, when their biceps failed them. Now I can see that their less riotous arms lend themselves better to the more delicate touch of the groaning strings. That’s what father used to tell me, anyway. He was a great orch- estrator, and knew every music maker from the big fiddle down to the cocoanut shells. So one day I gathered all my words together and wrote this song. It tells all abo it father and how his goat was got. II goes this way: YOU CAN T PLAY EVERY INSTRUMENT IN THE BAND. My father was a musickcr, since he was but a boy, He played the big bass fiddle in the bands. He started out to be a vloliner when a kid, But he had too many knuckles on his hands. Then he tried to play the ’cello, but his knees got in his way, And his elbows seemed to take up too muen apace. So he went from bad to worser; 'til he got a slide trombone. And he slid, from the trombone to the bass. The worry turned him gray, he had to stand up when he'd play. But he was a philosopher; I've often heard him say: CHORUS. You can’t play every instrument in the orchestra. Someone must push wind in the cornet. And some will try to get a tone, hammering on the silly phone, While some make faces at a clarinet. "I'd like to be the leader,” said poor father, “but I aint,” So here with my bass fiddle I will stand, And say nothing but saw bass strings, if my feet will just hold out; You can’t play every instrument in the band. Now father was right about that. If you can’t play, but you musl play something, play the bass fiddle. Of course the main trouble is yo» can't be very entertaining if you just play the big fiddle and nothlnj else with it. If you’re out on a joy party you can’t start your bass fiddlt going and play, “Oloom, gloom, gloom,” all the time. It's too disor ganizing. They wouldn't even let you do that at funerals. You RE - Boo Hoo-.' VERY CRUEL J M LLE MARIES WILL You, vou DonY QET THAT hat AND THAT5 ALL THERE 15 To IT.' t — y CANY I GET That hat DEAR? You Just got ONE LAST WEE K ! OH! 15 NT THAT LOVELY a ah: COME v ON . Please Dpnt STEAL M'l WlC.CjLE' LINE. Ft ORr N(£ HELLO.' THERES B'ilLs Cousin /AAR IE J I isn't that Funnt, T. ' avarie is the name OF THE MILLINER WHO Keeps That Hat s' what a funny SHAPED CLOUD Is mt that a pretty bird THAT5 THE KIND OF feather That Hat has ' CHANQED MX SAY,THAT AINT The hat You were raninl; about: > I WAS THlNKiNQ about that rat here! For. HEAVENS SAKE GET YoufL SELF That HAT AND KEEP ■—quiETj / OH You DAR.UN G Mind, This one / oniy cost $6 T BOUGHT a SKIRT, AMD SHOES AND CORSETS AN 0 A g NEW VEILV/ith The rest of J THE MONEY X FOR. the -LOVE , of Mike whats the matter,? CANT You 5LELP In the Mad Gallop to Connubial Bliss lilt,, lour dear old father told me it was a beautiful ring. MEL. He d tell you anything. He’s been intoxicated ever since I introduced you to him. HIG. What was that our friends stuck all over our suitcases? j MEL.—Union labels. HIG.—But yours had a tag tied MEL.—You haven't any right to be tired. Where were you night? H IG.—Well, we're married and I’m glad it's over. MEL.—Over? Huh. It hasn’t started yet. HIG.—Gee, but I got an awful fright. MEL.—You got an awful fright? Go to a mirror and see what I got. HIG.—If 1 should die, oh what would you do? MEL.—I'd go nearly crazy. HIG.—Would you marry again? MEL.-—I said nearly crazy. HIG.—How do you like my wedding suit?, MEL.—Fits you like a glove. Like unto a packed theatre is the fulness thereof. HIG.—I ask for elucidation. MEL.—Standing room only. HIG.—I’ll have you understand that I am very proud of this suit. It was made from one of President Taft's. MELr—It might have been made from his vest. HIG.—I think now' I'll sing a little song. Will you join me? MEL.—Most fluently. 1 have a very indigenous voice. There are only a few left who can sing like me. HIG.-—Yea. they've killed all the rest. MEL.—But I fear naught. 1 don t care what becomes of me. One more drink and I’ll tel) everything. HIG.—What do you think the minister ought to get for marrying us? MEL.—Life. HIG.—And to think that you went and soaked :he engagement ring I gavest thou. MEL.- And to think that the hoikbioker wanted to givesl me mar- bias or skipping rope for iL I told you. Doing my duty at the side of a sick friend. -Oh. Your sick friend must have died. Most certainly noL -1 suppose you held your sick friend's hand? No, I’m sorry to say. (I wish I had. He held four aces.) -I wish 1 had money. I wouldn't hang around here. MEL.—Of course. I've been tagged. I'm it. HIG.—I thought you told me the minister was always a tee totaller. MEL.—I said he was a tea- drinker. HIG.—But did you hear what he said when I asked him to join us? MEL—Sure. He said, "Don't care If I do.” HIG.—lou don’t make yourself plain. MEL.—No, 1 Just grew that way. HIG.—Well have to hurry now if we want to catch our train. MEL.—Look out you dpr’t catch my train or you'11 havt to buy me a new dress. TUG.—Well, if you're coming with me, hurry up. I'm Urea. The more father worried about his fiddle, the more people kidded hint about It, so ho went away one day and that’s how I came to write thir second verse: travel HIG.—Here, how much do you want? MEL.—Do you know a good catchy song we can sing? HIG.—Yes, the Scarlet Fever Rag. MEL.—Oh. isn't that killing? HIG.—What did you tell the old lady whose dog we ran over this morning? MEL.—I told her my husband would replace the animal. HIG.—Did that make it all right? MEL.-—She said. “Madam, you flatter your husband.” a', , -,ui luiidieis a taxi driver iu New York, isn’t he? MEL.—He are. HIG.—Did you tell him I was here? ~ - ~ MEL.—-Yes. He said he hoped to run across you some time. HIG.—That’s not funny. You should have heard what father said when I told him I loved you more than any girl I ever met MEL.—Well? HIG.—He said try and meet some more girls. MEL.—Is that so? Well, good-bye. That makes me feel like a tree In Sprngtime. HIG— How? ilEL.—I’m leaving. i Father hated that bass fiddle, and I think it was because, He had to stand for all the music that he'd play. He tried to sit down once and put it underneath his chin, And he nearly broke his neck that fatal day. He got a job on board a boat, four pieces in the band, A piano, cover, stool, and father’s bass. The old boat had to sink, and as they all fell in the drink, Such a look came—over father’s face. He floundered for a while, when up came his bass viol. And as he lit on top of it he murmured with a smile: CHORUS. “You can't float on every instrument in the orchestra, The flute has holes that let’s the water in. A drummer, if he's on the bum might beat his way home on a drum, But then a drum is mostly all a skin.” As Pa floated on his fiddle, the p.ano sank below, So no one could accompany him to land. Like a boat the fiddle floated. Pa sat on the bridge and gloated: "You can't float cn every instrument in the band.’*