Mr. Harris

“ Harris. "You—wait a minute—" he half-closed his eyes and waved aside a remark of his friend's. "Suppose you 'ad an accident and fell off it, just in front of the house?"
"I never fall off," said Mr. Gale, simply.
"Old Wragg is out, and me and Charlie Brown carry you into the house," continued Mr. Harris, closing his eyes entirely. "When you come to your senses, she's bending over you and crying." ”

“ Harris has issued [Pg 163] his annual almanac, which has commanded a large and ready sale. A few years ago he issued his first book, “My Book of Expressions,” which has had a wide circulation. It contained only articles in the Dutch dialect. The Almanac for 1882, written by Mr. Harris, is overflowing with his peculiar humor, and another large volume, “My Book of Parodies,” will soon appear.
“Carl Pretzel,” outside of his book work, is a thorough and hard-working journalist. He is at present engaged in editing and publishing a weekly newspaper at 119 Clark street, Chicago. ”

“ The Harris organization is now recognized as one of the indispensable factors in Canadian industry of the most diverse aspects. In building up this great industry Mr. Harris has for a considerable number of years been blessed with the active assistance of his son. By instinct a captain of industry his chief recreation in leisure hours is the study of the betterment of conditions relating to business in all its phases. Mr. Harris is a member of the A.F. & A.M., I.O.F., A.O.F., S.O.E., a Conservative in politics and a Methodist in religion. ”

“ Mr. Harris is one of the youngest looking men in the profession, retaining the appearances of youth to a remarkable degree; he hails from St. Louis, Mo. I didn’t get his age, but I am sure he must be younger than he would admit that he is.
(Overture—“Apple of My Eye.”)
Joe. Lang, the old-time black-face performer, made his first appearance with the Morris Brothers, Pell and Trowbridge’s Minstrels, at an early age. Subsequently he played an engagement with Morris and Wilson’s Minstrels in St. Louis. ”

“ Instinctively the old man began to choke him off but the son exclaimed:
"'Don't, father, don't, for God's sake! it may be hard on you, but it'll be the making of the pup'. So my examination, I thought, might be hard on Mr. Harris; but it would be the making of him."
The Court roared and I applauded merrily. Judge Stevens continued: "I desire, however, to show my self not an enemy but a friend of Mr. Harris whom I have known for some years. Mr. Hutchings evidently thinks that Mr. Harris must wait two years in order to become a citizen of the United States. ”

“ I don't believe there's more than one box, at that—which wouldn't be no great trouble for us."
"Make a devil of a racket to git it broke open," said Harris, using some sort of a tool on a box. "Thar's two chists here, to tell the truth about it. One is heavier than t'other and bound with iron strips, and this outside one is cleated with tin. I'll rip the whole works open, cap'n, if ye say the word."
"No, no, Mr. Harris! Sally Ann, not that! ”

“ Too much praise can not be bestowed upon Mr. Harris for the manner in which he has executed his task: not only is the representation of the dialect better than anything that has heretofore been given, but he has shown himself a master in the difficult art of collecting popular tales. A glance at the variants of these stories published elsewhere will show the vast superiority of Mr. Harris's. It is not, however, in their literary character, interesting as it is, that we intend to examine briefly these fables, but simply in their relations to the similar tales of other countries. ”

“ Born in Galway, Ireland, 1854, but came to the United States in 1870. Naturalized. Educated at the universities of Kansas, Paris, Heidelberg, Strassburg, Göttingen, Berlin, Vienna, and Athens (no degrees) . Admitted to the Kansas bar, 1875. Later, returned to Europe and became editor of the Evening News and Fortnightly Review and secured control of the Saturday Review.
Mr. Harris’s work belongs in a class by itself. It is valuable partly for its content, as in the case of his intimate portraits of famous men whom he has known, and partly for the force and brilliancy of the style. ”

“ It was the merest accident that Arnold, the new president, was coming in and caught sight of her as she was leaving the wicket after depositing the check and the amount of the coupons to her account.
He greeted her effusively. “You are looking well,” he informed her.
She knew that she was not, but she told him, yes, she was very well.
“And how’s Cutter?” smiling as a man does when he thinks he has introduced an agreeable topic.
She said that she had not heard from Mr. Cutter since he returned to New York.
“Busy man! Busy man! Goes at everything like a house afire. ”

“ Defenceless dummies!
In one place Mr. Harris spontaneously exclaims—about the only time he gives the impression of spontaneity: “What a pity St. Paul did not write a ‘Life of Jesus!’” Frank Harris would. He would surely not miss the opportunity of capitalizing such a “contemporary portrait.” What a pity Mr. Harris has not met at a dinner given by Lady-and-So Mr. Socrates, or Mr. Moses, or Mr. Adam! What a loss of a good seller.
An editor of a brave magazine, which allows its contributors the free use of the first personal pronoun, has rebuked me for my too-subjective animosity towards Mr. ”

“ I was so anxious to get at him that the Little Master was compelled to slap me with the slack of the bridle reins and bid me stand still.
“‘No,’ said Mr. Gossett, ‘I’d ruther have the nigger than the money.’
“‘I’ll give you two thousand dollars,’ persisted the White-haired Master.
“Mr. Gossett showed his yellow teeth again. ‘Well, sir,’ he said, ‘if he’s worth that to you, he’s worth it to me. The fact is, I want to tame the nigger. They say he’s as wild as a buck, and as hard-headed as a mule. I want to tame him.’
“The White-haired Master turned to the trader. ”

“ Rabbit turned an inquiring eye on Sweetest Susan.
“She doesn’t know anything about lions,” said Buster John.
“Why, I do!” cried Sweetest Susan. “I saw one once in a cage.”
“In a cage? Brother Lion in a cage?” Mr. Rabbit raised his hands and rolled his eyes in astonishment. “What is the world coming to? Well, I’ve said many and many a time that Brother Lion was not right up here.” Mr. Rabbit tapped his forehead significantly. “In a cage! Now, that pesters me. Why, he used to go roaring and romping about the country, scaring them that didn’t know him mighty nigh to death. ”

“ He was president of the National educational association in 1875, and represented the U. S. bureau of education at the International congress of educators at Brussels in 1880. Since 1884 he has been president of the Boston school-master's club, and is an active member of the Concord school of philosophy. Mr. Harris contributes constantly to magazines on art, education, and philosophy, has translated extensively from German and Italian thinkers of the advanced school, and published twelve “Annual Reports” on the St. ”

“ When the trolley car reached this height Miss Church-Member at once fixed her eyes on the ponderous pillars on each side of the converging corridors, for she knew that more than four thousand feet of the tower’s amazing weight rested on these defiant granites.
Mr. World and his pleasing friend meandered amongst the multitude from one to another of the hanging gardens, drinking in all the vain glories that this aerial world afforded. ”

“ Rabbit shook his head.
“Tar-Baby, you are wrong,” he said.
“If you want anything, go and get it,” suggested Buster John.
Mr. Rabbit shook his head and looked at Sweetest Susan, whereupon she said:—
“If you can’t make up your mind, you’ll have to go hungry.”
Mr. Rabbit shook his head.
“Eat a good breakfast,” said Mrs. Meadows, “and you won’t be worried about your dinner.”
“All wrong!” exclaimed Mr. Rabbit, with a chuckle. “The moral is this: He who wants too much is more than likely to get nothing.” ”

“ There were four of them at home, waiting on the stairs for him to come at night—and he suddenly saw that Philip Harris was a brave man—holding out for them all—waiting while the little fleck of grey matter knit itself. He looked at him a minute keenly—“Why not come in yourself, now and then,” he said, “as he gets better? Later when you take him away, he will know you—better for him.”
So the ward became familiar with the red face and Prince Albert coat and striped trousers and patent leather shoes, crunching softly down the still, white room. ”

“ It would be like him, for he was among the most modest and retiring of men, as there are many amusing anecdotes to indicate. Once when some one had persuaded him to attend a large dinner in New York, they say, he got as far as New York, but as the dinner hour approached could not bear to face the adulation awaiting him, and incontinently fled back to Atlanta.
Frank L. Stanton, poet laureate of Georgia, and of [Pg 375] the "Constitution," joined the "Constitution" staff through the efforts of Mr. Harris, one of whose closest intimates he was. Speaking of Mr. Harris's gift for negro dialect, Mr. ”

“ I guess New York's good enough for me. There's style there,” and she nodded her head decisively as she spoke.
Miss Loo and Bancroft were among the latest arrivals at the Morrises'. She stood beside him while he hitched Jack to a post of the fence amidst a crowd of other horses, and they entered the house together. In due form she presented the schoolmaster to Mr. and Mrs. Morris, and smilingly produced three linen tablecloths as her contribution to the warming. ”

“ World and Miss Church-Member moving on, in closer fellowship than ever, I waxed warm with indignation, and addressed Blackana who was still lying at my side as motionless as the strata of the rock-ribbed earth:
“Will you explain to me this folly of Miss Church-Member, who has not only disgraced her cause before the fiendish Mr. World, but who also continues with him in such unseemly intimacy?”
“Miss Church-Member is not walking in folly. She is engaged in a noble work, endeavoring to elevate Mr. World to a higher Christian life,” was the answer from the lips of Blackana in a low, heavy voice. ”

“ The doctor seized him by the hand with a strange vigor not even understood by Mr. World.
“So you are under the power of ‘La Grippe,’” saluted the doctor.
“Under the power of something, I am sure, for everything is wrong with me, and everything seems wrong to me,” was the slow answer.
The doctor soon diagnosed his case, and gave him powders with directions.
“It did not take you very long to attend to him,” said Mr. World, after the aged man left the office.
“I deal with so many of that class that I keep the medicine ready. La Grippe is a splendid thing for my trade. ”

“ In the darker shadows of this same panorama I saw the Broad Highway with its thronging multitudes. Some, with deliberate step, scrutinizing the objects along the way; others, in mad haste, rushing on toward an awful destruction whose wreck and ruin loomed up dimly in the glare of an eternal burning.
Among the happy pilgrims of the King’s Highway was one named Miss Church-Member, who had left the Broad Way of death, and entered, through Christ, into that marvelous light wherein she was now walking. ”

“ I turned my eyes to see poor Miss Church-Member still struggling up the Hill of Remorse.
When the top was finally reached I heard Mr. World congratulating her: “Well done, noble woman! You have fought Remorse until you have mastered it. The pains and pangs incident to this climbing are over, and if you should come to another hill you will ascend it with more ease. Look about you at these cool mountain resorts called Apathy, and join me in a needed recreation as we mingle with the merry multitudes amongst these shady bowers.” ”

“ They listened only to the harmony of sounds.
“O, Miss Church-Member!” pleaded a voice, “you who were once so earnestly engaged on the King’s Highway, will you not, before you reach the River of Death, forsake your perilous course and walk on the path of life eternal?”
These words, which would have once brought conviction to her heart, only brought vanity to her head. “‘Judge not, that ye be not judged,’ and go speak to the lost, not to me so well equipped to meet the direst foe. Turn your words to those on the other path, who go hobbling along in misery, not fit to live or die.” ”

“ I saw no more of the Son of Ben Ali until after the big fire.”
“When the house was burned?” asked Buster John.
“The big house—yes,” replied the Black Stallion.
“That was the time you broke down your stable door,” suggested Aaron, who was working away inside the stable.
“And came near catching the son of Old Grizzly, as he went over the fence,” said the Black Stallion.
“Mr. George Gossett?” exclaimed Buster John. “Why, he’s an old man.”
“He’s older than he’s good,” remarked Aaron. ”

“ The Devil’s Auction.
As Mr. World and Miss Church-Member proceeded on their journey they were frightened by a man who, with his hands uplifted and agony pictured on his face, came running toward them, shouting: “Let good sense control you and go no farther! Enchantment, spirits, witches, and unnamed hobgoblins dwell in every part of this hideous valley!”
“Oh, terror! What can this mean?” nervously asked Mr. World, as the stranger stood panting for breath.
“All a mystery! Even the air is filled with poison and weird music. I am thankful that I have escaped with my life.” ”