over, because he's whipped the quit in him without no kind applause to cheer him on. I've seen losers that attracted more attention in runnin' last than any six winners in the same precinct. 

 Them kind of birds can't help tryin'. They couldn't quit if they wanted to, which they don't! They got somethin' in 'em that keeps shovin' 'em along whether they're regrettin' the breaks or not. They're always full of the old ambish no matter what the score is in the ninth. They're what you might call self-starters in the automobile of life—they don't need a win now and then to crank 'em up, they keep goin' forward hittin' on all cylinders from the nursery to the embalmer! 

 Alex was one of them guys. 

 The Big Town fell for his stuff because it was new, the same as it will fall for yours to-morrow if you get somethin' it never seen and the nerve to try it out! 

 About a month after Alex was workin' as head salesman for the Gaflooey Auto Company at a pittance of ten thousand a year, he come up to the flat for dinner one night. I seen right away that somethin' was wrong, because he only eat about half of the roast duck and brung along his own cigars. After nature could stand no more, and we had dragged ourselves away from the table to let the servant girl make good, we adjourn to the parlor and the wife gets ready to punish the neighbors with the victrola. 

 "Well," says Alex, sittin' down in the only rocker, of course, "it looks like they have finally gimme somethin' that even I can't do!" 

 "Can that be possible?" I says, pickin' up the sportin' final. 

 "Wait till you hear this one!" remarks the wife, crankin' up the victrola.  "John McCormack singin' 'If Beauty Was Water, You'd Be Niagara Falls!'  It's a knockout!" 

 "Say!" snorts Alex, gettin' peeved.  "Can't a man find no attention here?" 

 "Look in the telephone book under the A's," I says. 

 "Never mind, dearie!" the wife tells him.  "I'll listen. What's on your mind?"  She goes over and sits on the arm of his chair, knowin' full well it gets my goat. 

 "I see you're the only one in this family that's got any sense!" pipes Alex, pattin' her hand. 

 "Yen," I says, "I ain't got enough sense to turn on a radiator. All I'm good for is to get the dollars, which of 

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