Down the line with John Henry

by George V. Hobart

JOHN HENRY AT THE MUSICALE.

Did you ever get ready and go to a musicale?

Isn't it the velvet goods?

They pulled off one at Jack Frothingham's last Wednesday evening and I had to walk up and down the aisle with the rest of the bunch.

Mind you, I like Jack, so this is no secret conclave of the Anvil Association.

Only, I wish to put him wise that when he gives his next musicale my address is Forest Avenue, in the woods.

When I reached Jack's house the Burnish Brothers were grabbing groutchy music out of a guitar that didn't want to give up, and the mad revel was on.

The Burnish Brothers part their hair in the middle and always do "The Washington Post" march on their mandolins for an encore.

If Mr. Sousa ever catches them there'll be a couple of shine chord-squeezers away to the bad.