The Wit and Humor of America, Volume VII | Page 2

ven dey
kits to de gorus You ought to hear dem dramp! It scared der Teufel
down below To hear de Dootchmen stamp.
Hans Breitmann choined de Toorners:-- By Donner! it vas grand, Vhen
de whole of dem goes a valkin' Und dancin' on dere hand, Mit de veet
all wavin' in de air, Gottstausend! vot a dricks! Dill der Breitmann fall
und dey all go down Shoost like a row of bricks.
Hans Breitmann choined de Toorners, Dey lay dere in a heap, And
slept dill de early sonnen shine Come in at de window creep; And de
preeze it vake dem from deir dream, And dey go to kit deir feed: Here
hat' dis song an Ende-- Das ist DES BREITMANNSLIED.

CUPID, A CROOK

BY EDWARD W. TOWNSEND
The first night assignment Francis Holt received from his city editor
was in these words: "Mr. Holt, you will cover the Tenderloin to-night.
Mr. Fetner, who usually covers it, will explain what there is to do."
Fetner, when his own work was done that night, sought Holt to help
him with any late story which might be troublesome to a new man.
They were walking up Broadway when Fetner, lowering his voice, said:
"Here's Duane, a plain-clothes man, who is useful to us. I'll introduce
you."
As the reporters, in the full flood of after-theater crowds, stood talking
to the officer, a young man hurrying past abruptly stopped and stepped
to Duane's side.
"Well, Tommy, what's up with you?" the officer asked. Holt noted that
Tommy, besides being breathed, was excited. His coat and hat had the
provisional look of the apparel of house servants out of livery, and his
trousers belonged to a livery suit. Tommy hesitated, glancing at
Duane's companions, but the officer said: "Tell your story: these are
friends of mine."
"I was just on my way to the station house to see the captain, but I'm
glad I met you, for we don't want the papers to say anything, and there's
always reporters around the station."
Holt would have stepped back, but Fetner detained him, while Duane
said cheerfully: "You're a cunning one, Tommy. Now, what's wrong?"
"Well," began the youth in the manner of a witness on the stand, "I was
on duty in the hall this evening and noticed one of our tenants, Mr.
Porter H. Carrington, leave the house about ten o'clock. I noticed that
he had no overcoat, which I thought was queer, for I'd just closed the
front door, because it was getting chilly."
At the mention of the name Holt started, and now paid close attention
to the story.

"I was reading the sporting extra by the hall light," Tommy continued,
"when, in about twenty minutes, Mr. Carrington returned--that is, I
thought it was Mr. Carrington--and he says to me, 'Tommy, run up to
my dressing-room and fetch my overcoat.' 'Yes, sir,' I says; 'which
one?' for he has a dozen of 'em. 'The light one I wore to-day,' he says,
and I starts up the stairs, his apartment being on the next floor, thinking
I'd see the coat he wanted on a chair if he'd worn it to-day. I'd just got
to his hall and was unlocking the door, when he comes up behind me
and says, 'I'll get it, Tommy; there's something else I want.' So in he
goes, handing me a dime, and I goes back to the hall. In about fifteen
minutes he comes downstairs wearing an overcoat and carrying a
bundle, tosses me the key and starts for the door. He's the kind that
never carries a bundle, so I says to him, 'Shall I ring for a messenger to
carry your package?' 'No,' says he, and leaves the house."
Tommy paused, and there was a shake of excitement in his voice when
he resumed: "In five minutes Mr. Carrington comes back without any
overcoat, and says, Tommy, run upstairs and get me an overcoat.' I
looks, and he was as sober as I am at this minute, Mr. Duane, and I
begins to feel queer. It sort of comes over me all of a sudden that the
voice of the other man I'd unlocked the door for was different from this
one. But I'd been reading the baseball news, and didn't notice much at
the time. So I says, hoping it was some kind of a jolly, 'Did you lose the
one you just wore out, sir?' 'I wore no coat,' he says, giving me a look.
Well, he goes to his apartment, me after him, and there was things
flung all over the place, and all the signs of a hurry job by a sneak-thief.
Mr. Carrington was kind of petrified, but I runs downstairs and tells the
superintendent, and he chases me off