Canadian Club
Of course everybody who goes south does not linger in Washington. As a matter of fact a great many Canadians flock to Florida during the winter months—thousands of them—and St. Petersburg on the western coast is a favorite resort. They are greatly in evidence everywhere, and last January, on a very warm day, I strolled over to the City Park, which was thronged with merry-makers. The band was playing popular airs, and many Canadians were indulging in dominoes, checkers, euchre, and other old-fashioned card games, and for the first time since boyhood days I saw quite a number pitching quoits with horse-shoes. I took a hand in the game, and nearly hit the man that beat the big drum, goodness knows how many yards away.
It was a grand day. The Canadians are there during the winter in such strong force that they have a club room for themselves, and on the door was a card which read: “Canadian Club,” and beneath it, “7:30”—signifying that a club meeting was to be held that evening at that hour. Mike Heenan, the Michigan Central Railway detective of Detroit, who is well-known throughout Western Ontario, and who was visiting St. Petersburg, didn’t read it exactly in that light.
“Holy Smoke,” he said, “Canadian Club—7:30. Minny’s the bottle I’ve bought for a dollar-tin, aye and for ninety cents.”
And then everybody smiled.