File:Walt Mason - his book (1916) (14598086537).jpg

Identifier: waltmasonhisbook00maso (find matches)
Title: Walt Mason : his book
Year: 1916 (1910s)
Authors: Mason, Walt, 1862-1939
Subjects:
Publisher: New York : Barse & Hopkins
Contributing Library: Scott - York University Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: Ontario Council of University Libraries and Member Libraries

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at-tain a high position, and he surely is acaitiff who regrets to see her rise; I forone will hand her praises, load her downwith cheering phrases, if, in seeking higherlevels, she does not neglect the pies. Lether study art and science, read up Black-stone and his clients, soak herself in Kantor Browning and the truth that in themlies; she may dote on Keats or Ruddy—ifshe doesnt cease to study worthy books andable pamphlets treating of uplifting pies.Now and then my spirit, shrinking, gets todoubting, brooding, thinking that the pieswe have at present are not like the pies ofyore; modern dames are good at makingcrusts for pies, and good at baking, but theybuy the stuff to fill them at the nearestgrocers store. Are our pies as good asever? Do our modern dames endeavor toproduce the pie triumphant, pies that makeus better men? If they do, then who wouldchide them, who w^ould blame them or de-ride them, if they turn from pies and cookiesto their Ibsen books again? WomansProgress (97)
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I sanv the form of a cringing bum all crumpledand soaked nvith gin. Walt Mason I WENT one night with my high-pricedthirst to loaf in the booze bazar, and asI sampled the old red dope I leanedon the handsome bar. My purse was fullof the good long green, and my raiment wassmooth and new, and I looked as slick as acabbage rose thats kissed by the nice wetdew. Behind the bottles a mirror stood,as large as your parlor floor, and I lookedand looked in the shining glass, and won-dered, and looked some more. My own re-flection did not appear, but there where itshould have been, I saw the form of a cring-ing bum all crumpled and soaked with gin.His nose was red and his eyes were dim,unshorn was his swollen face, and I thoughtit queer such a seedy bo would come to sosmooth a place. I turned around for a bet-ter look at this efiigy of despair, and nearlyfell in a little heap, for the effigy wasntthere! The barkeep laughed. Its theMagic Glass, he said, with a careless yawn;it shows a man how hes

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