top of his voice he yelled after
them--

"Well, say, you know I don't give a damn either."

And walked off.

* * * * *

Upon another occasion several of the Webber & Fields Stars were engaged
to appear at a function given by some millionaire up on Fifth Avenue.
They were to meet at the theater, dress there, and go up to the house in
taxicabs. As usual, Bigalow was late. But as this always happened nobody
bothered about it. They simply got dressed and went on their way,
leaving him to come as best he could.

But, in order that he should not feel neglected, they fixed things up
for him. In rummaging through his trunk Daily had come across a can of
burnt cork, that he had used in a minstrel show at St. James, L. I., the
previous summer. So while Collier wrote a note for Bigalow, telling him
that at the last minute it had been decided that everybody should "black
up," Daily daubed some of the burnt cork around the wash bowl and on to
his and Collier's towels. This done they all went up to the house where
they were to appear.

Can you see the next picture? Daily, Collier, Kelly, and the others all
in immaculate evening dress, sitting in the host's drawing room,
chatting with the host and a few friends, when the door burst open and
Bigalow dashed in--as black as burnt cork would make him!

Poor Charlie. May he rest in peace. And that is more than he would ever
have done in that company.

* * * * *

There was an English musical act playing over here last summer. The wife
carried the money. She had to; if she hadn't there wouldn't have been
any to carry. She had a time lock on the pocketbook and the time did not
expire until they got back to England. She had been brought up under a
free trade government and she did not like our protective tariff prices.

Hubby had one hat; a straw one. As Hubby had red hair and the hat was a
dirty white, he looked like a fried egg in it. For weeks he had been
trying to get a requisition on the treasury for a new one. But wife had
vetoed the appropriation every time.

Finally Hubby had a scheme. He went to Joe Apdale, the animal trainer,
for assistance.

"Now, Joe," he said, "Hi'll tell you wot we'll do; Hi will go down hand
set on the hedge of the dock there, hover the ocean. Hand you come along
hand say, ''Ullo, old chap!' and slap me on the back. Hi'll jump, and
the bloomin' 'at will fall hin the water."

"All rig