Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 52, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 March 1918 — TALES FROM BIG CITIES [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

TALES FROM BIG CITIES

Pantagall and His Princess Live in San Francisco

SAN FRANCISCO.*—They eat raw meat and live in the heart of San Francisco. Pantagall, a South Sea islander, and his wife, a Piute Indian princess, are having their first experience with civilization in a tiny shack crowded among apartments and sac-

tories. t , Their romance is one of the strangest that ever strayed out of the jungles. Ten years ago a circus brought a bronze giant from the Antipodes to America as “Pantagall, the wild cannibal.” He devoured great quantities of raw meat before curious crowds, and life was one long, sweet song. But the circus went broke and

Pantagall, stranded on the Oregon plains, had to turn to roots and raw potatoes in place of four-inch tenderloin. He turned also to the luring eyes of Highana, a dusky Piute princess, camped with her tribe nearby. . At once the course. of true love began to loop the loop, for Papa Piute wasn’t going to have any raw meat eating son-in-law in his family .if he could help it. The chief tried the old, shop-worn stunt of Imprisoning his headstrong and romantic daughter, but even the Piute love god laughs at locksmiths, and one fine night Princess Highana up and out and rode away on a fleet cayuse. < Pantagall, who had meantime learned the language and customs of the Plutes and had become a regular Vernon Castle among the dancing women of the tribe, set out in pursuit. He found his princess, after many days, staving off starvation by eating the cayuse she had fled on. There on the prairie they were married, according to the rites of the South Sea Islanders. Pantagall swore by his own gods and his bride’s that no vampire should ever turn him aside. Then they finished the poor cayuse raw—and proceeded to be' happy. Vicissitudes and a papoose came to make life complex. They drifted to San Francisco, penniless, hungry, out of kilter with a world that likes its bacon crisp and its steaks well done. Chairity found for them a tiny shack in the heart of the city.

First Women to Visit New York Stock Exchange

NEW YORK—Seven New York women roamed among the bulls and bears on the floor of the consolidated stock exchange recently and emerged unharmed. An excited messenger boy looked straight into the eyes of one of the girls and held up two fingers, V-

shape. “Not today,” replied the saucy one. “It’s too cold. But I’ll be glad to take a dip any time next summer.” The messenger was signalling to a broker. The girl, who once lived in a small town, thought of the old swimming hole. As the girls entered, about 300 men—not including the messenger boys, ranging in age from eighteen to sixty —stretched their arras out with a

cordial gesture. “Isn’t it nice that they greet us so cordially,” exclaimed an effusive miss. “Lovely,” dryly responded their guide. “They are wigwagging about stocks.” “Did you ever see so much wasted energy in all your life?” queried one of the visitors. “Think of what could be accomplished if they would conserve it and devote it to knitting.” “There’s a delightful place to serve tea,” murmured another sister as she spied the thronelike seat of Valentine Mott, who has called the meeting to order for 19 consecutive years. • ’ Mr. Mott says it is the first time in the history of the exchange that women have invaded the sacred precincts. The visitors declare it is their last time.

Rare Find of a Philatelic Junk Hunter in Gotham

NEW YORK—Amqng the many strange livelihoods practiced in New York is there, any stranger than that of the junk hunter. Junk hunters are subdivided into classes, such as thpse who reclaim metal, paper, lost articles.

rags, etc. The specialist who concerns us is the man who reelaims old postage stamps. Came Into a paper warehouse on the philatelic junk hunter’s route one day five long, green boxes that held the 1850-1855 correspondence of a defunct shipping firm. It was his luck to get access to only one box —that of 1853. From it he gleaned a mass of odd envelopes with stamps intact. i. He had found “original covers,”

as they are called in the stamp world, ' and some were of real value. In a jiffy the junk hunter rushed to Park.gow to his principal with the find, receiving sls for three envelopes from Hawaii. The stamp dealer who bought the three old covers for <sls tried in vain to interest his customers in them. Month after month he held them at the fixed price of $lO each, but none made an offer, despite their apparent rarity. Finally came a stamp auction for the benefit of the Red Cross, and the dealer, wishing to do his bit, contributed one of the Hawaiian covers. To the surprise of all it brought $37.50, the buyer being a Hawaiian specialist in Syracuse. That worthy, much Interested in his gem, traced 5 the source of bls find through the auctioneer and wrote to the New York dealer — principal of the junk hunter—for verification of its origin. Incidentally he asked where there were any more. Now, knowing the value of his find, the New Yorker promptly sent the other two envelopes to the Syracuse man with a price of $125 for the pair. It was a deal. The Syracusan took them and when he died soon after and his estate was settled the three covers were sold again at auction, this time bringing a trifle more than S2OO. Of course the hunter got a liberal bonus from the New York dealer and there came to the Red Cross another check for $12.50.

Chicagoan’s Device to Evade Garfield’s Orders

CHICAGO.— Hub H. Stommel is the proprietor of a thirst parlor in West Randolph street, and if it shall come lb pass that he emerges upon fame, let no cat hereafter go forth hungry from his door. Fuelless Mondays rode heavily upon Hub. Other saloon men

closed, but in Hub’s ears there rang the pleadings of thirsty patrons. “So, thinks I,” said Hub, “I-B to keep the place open if I can do It without breaking the law. Of course, you don’t need no coal. After a few warm friends gets Ilkkered up pleasantly and call each other some names it gets hotter’n you expect. “Well, I’m talking to Pete, the porter, and he ain’t such a bum as he

looks. T got an idea about lights,’ he says. ‘Get a lot of cats.' Now, what do you know about that? Pete tells me that cats has got more light in their eyes than a whaddayacallit. Pete gets him a basket and some liver and a string, and pretty soon he’s back here with 22 cats. Come on down here in the basement “Now, can you see ’em? All eyes, hey? Forty-four eyes. Them big ones belongs to Electrum. He’s 9 the grandfather of all the cats_you ever see. I bet he could whip a goat See the next one? That’s Electra. She’s his wife. If she ever got after me I’d go so fast I’d find a new street “Now, here’s the dope: I put a big mirror—looking glass, you know —at each end of the bar; I put the cats looking into the mirror at one end; tin reflection from the cats’ .eyes shoots back to the other glass, and there you got the light from three times twenty-two pair of eyes. Wouldn’t that stop yous clock? I’ll say it would.”