the Numbers were all Gems.

When the Home Talent bunch pulled the whole Affair before a mob of
Personal Friends and a subsidized City Editor, it was a Night of
Triumph for all concerned.

The trained and trusty Liars who, in every Community, wear Evening
Clothes and stand around at Receptions, all crowded up to the Author
and gave him the Cordial Mitt and boosted something scandalous.

He didn't know that all of them Knocked after they got around the
Dutch Lunch.

He went home, sobbing with Joy. That night he nominated himself for
the Hall of Fame and put it to a Vote, and there was not one
Dissenting Voice.

Every deluded Boob who can bat up Fungoes in his own Back Yard thinks
he is qualified to break into a Major League and line out Two-Baggers.

There was no holding the inspired Librettist and the talented young
Composer.

They knew that the eager Public in 48 States was waiting for the Best
Thing since "Robin Hood."

The Author went up to the City and found a Manager who had a Desk and
a lot of Courage and a varied experience in risking other people's
Coin.

After the two Geniuses had mortgaged their Homes, the Impresario was
enabled to get some Scenery built and rally a large Drove of
Artists--most of them carrying Hand Bags.

During Rehearsals the brutal Stage Manager wanted to cut the Gizzard
out of the Book and omit most of the sentimental Arias, but Mr. Words
and Mr. Music emitted such shrieks of protest against the threatened
Sacrilege that he allowed all the select home-made Guff to remain in
the Script.

He thought it would serve them right.

When they gave the first Real Performance in a Dog Town on a drizzly
evening in November, there was no Social Eclat to fill the sails.

The House was mostly Paper and therefore very Missouri.

Also a full delegation from the Coffin-Trimmers' Union with Cracked
Ice in their Laps.

They did not owe any Money to the Author or have any Kinfolk in the
Cast, so they sat back with their Hands under them and allowed the
pretty little Opera to die like an Outcast.

The only Laugh in the Piece was when the Drop Curtain refused to work.

After the Show the Manager met them at an Oyster House and told them
they had eased a Persimmon to him.

He said the whole Trick was a Bloomer. It was just as funny as a
Wooden Leg. It needed much Pep and about two tons of Bokum.

Both Words and Music refused to countenance any radical Changes.

They said it would be an