something Snap.

   Our Hero had about 10 Years on the Ancient, and it looked like a Compote. But the Antique managed to totter around the Course, playing short but safe, always getting Direction and keeping away from the Profanity Pits.

   He never caught up with Colonel Bogey, but he had enough Class to trim our Hero and collect 6 Balls.

   Ambition rode home with the unhappy Loser in the $12,000 Limousine.

   "Buck up, Old Top," said the faithful Prompter. "Fasten your Eye on the Ball and don't try to Force. He is sure to blow up sooner or later. Take another Lesson to-morrow morning and then publish your Defi in the afternoon."

   He never had been strong enough to stand off Ambition. So next Day he took on Old Sure-Thing again and got it in the same Place.

   No wonder. The Octogenarian was of Scotch Descent. He was the Color of an Army Saddle. He never smiled except when the Kilties came on tour. His Nippie consisted of a tall Glass about half full and then a little Well Water.

   A plain American Business Man with a York State Ancestry had a fat Chance against this Caledonian frame-up.

   But that same persistent Ambition kept sending him back to the Ring to take another Trouncing.

   One day he failed to show up at the Club House. The Trained Nurse, who fanned him during the final Hours, never suspected. But the Caddy-Master knew that he had died of a Broken Heart.

    MORAL:

   Those who travel the hardest are not always the first to arrive.

    THE NEW FABLE OF THE SPEEDY SPRITE

   One Monday Morning a rangy and well-conditioned Elfin of the Young Unmarried Set, yclept Loretta, emerged into the Sunlight and hit the Concrete Path with a ringing Heel.

   This uncrowned Empress of the 18th Ward was a she-Progressive assaying 98 per cent. pure Ginger.

   Instead of trailing the ever onward Parade, she juggled the Baton at the head of the Push.

   In the crisp introductory hours of the Wash-Day already woven into the Plot, Loretta trolleyed 

 Prev. P 7/100 next