1900 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER 
Til 
A Glee Club Concert. 
“I don’t know, Tom, about your lead¬ 
ing the Glee Club another year. Seems 
to me It takes all your time and atten¬ 
tion; and look how you are laid up 
now: ” 
“Oh, come, pater, don’t charge my 
broken leg to the Glee Club! The horses 
happened to run away with the team in 
which our club happened to be; we 
might have been members of the faculty 
and had the bee sting the nigh horse. 
The club’s not a bad concern. Never 
told you one good little job we did, down 
South, did I? Won’t you sit down, sir?” 
Tom with his crutch sent half a dozen 
magazines flying, and Mr. Welles sat 
down, less at home in his son’s room 
at college than in the Stock Exchange. 
He had come up to spend Sunday with 
Tom, in order to find out just how badly 
the boy had been hurt, for the newspaper 
had only remarked playfully: “The- 
Glee Club met with an accident while 
driving home from giving a concert in 
a neighboring town. No voices hurt, but 
a few bones broken.” Mr. Welles had 
never learned to recline on a couch 
hardly visible through fancy cushions, 
but Tom had learned tact through man¬ 
aging the Glee Club, and after seating 
his father he leaned over and pulled for¬ 
ward on his desk two photographs, say¬ 
ing: 
“Let’s take mother and Sis into the 
family circle. They’ll like to hear this 
yarn. You know our club made a South¬ 
ern tour last Winter. I couldn’t write 
often, but I usea to telegraph the mater, 
now and then that I didn’t need my Win¬ 
ter flannels forwarded. Well, one night 
we got left in a little town. A go-as- 
you-please train met a go-as-you- 
darned-please one, and we had to 
wait 24 hours for the track to be cleared 
of wreckage. There wasn’t a hotel in 
the village, but the station master told 
us to go to Mr. Tidd’s and he’d; put us 
up. That’s a queer name, and it started 
Jim Cheney, who’s got a memory that’s 
good for any number of verses in a top¬ 
ical song, and would be useful to him in 
his lessons, if he had any. It made Jim 
remember that Philip Tidd of our class 
came from down that way. 
“ ‘Let’s go and see the prodigal fath¬ 
er,’ Jim said, and we trooped up to old 
Tidd’s. He showed he liked college boys 
right off, but when he heard what col¬ 
lege we were from, and when we began 
to ask if Phil was any relation of his, 
he stiffened up and looked troubled. 
Still, he said he would keep us over 
night. I was out at the back door wash¬ 
ing up for dinner—for there wasn’t a 
bath attached to each room—when Mr. 
Tidd came out and beckoned me round 
the corner of the piazza. I thought he 
was going to inquire if we liked terrapin 
with or without sherry, but he was in 
worse pucker than that. He looked me 
straight in the eye and shot out: 
“ ‘Why doesn’t Phil come home? 
“I know sons give their parents anx¬ 
iety—eh, dad?” And Tom laid his hand 
affectionately on his father’s knee. “But 
for anyone to worry over Phil Tidd! 
Perfect dig, you see—the one fellow who 
rides straight up to all the hurdles the 
profs, spend their years in putting in 
our intellectual way, and the only one 
who takes them, too, every time! 
Prexy’s joy and the maiden’s despair, 
but an out-and-out good fellow! Well, 
Mr. Tidd broke out again: 
“ ‘What’s Phil up to that he can’t 
come home? Folks here whisper round 
—I’ve heard ’em—that he’s kept “after 
school,” they guess, or that lie’s “playing 
hookey” from college. Phil wrote that 
the professor wanted to keep him with 
him, vacations, for a while to do some 
work in biology. I don’t know much 
what that is; but Neighbor Buck, he 
says it’s something like vivisection. I 
tell his mother there probably ain’t any¬ 
thing to be ashamed of, but’—and the old 
soul sort of broke down, and whispered, 
‘Is my boy all straight?’ 
“I didn’t know whether to laugh or 
cry first; but I thought I better not 
waste time on either till I’d relieved the 
Tidds. 
“ ‘Look here,’ I said, ‘Phil’s been too 
modest if he hasn’t explained. Why, 
Professor -, who is no end famous 
in science, says Phn is his right hand 
man, and every vacation they go off to 
a shanty and analyze things—no things 
that feel, like cats and dogs, but spores 
and cultures and things that you have 
to use a magnifying glass to see. I’m 
not taking the scientfic course myself, 
Mr. Tidd, and I can’t make it very plain; 
but, by gum! Phil earns money by this 
outside work, and I’ll bet that good din¬ 
ner you are getting ready for us that 
he is planning an A No. 1 surprise for 
you and his mother—going to come 
home rich and famous after he gradu¬ 
ates, just like the rest of us, Mr. Tidd! 
We warblers aren’t the only pebbles on 
the commencement beach, and you just 
tell the town so!’ 
“Well, Mr. Tidd tried not to look too 
pleased; but, Great Scott! his smile 
would have nad to go the long way of 
a camera plate! Then he clouded over 
again. ‘His mother’ll believe me, young 
man, but—but I wish the town could 
hear you talk!’ 
“Now, you know, sir, that ‘I am no 
orator,’ though I’ll wager I can beat 
Marc Antony on a bow to the public 
after an encore. But the fourth kind 
of pie stuck in my throat at dinner, be¬ 
cause I was all stirred up by the old 
gentleman’s closing appeal. I was wor¬ 
rying, too, over having the fellows id¬ 
ling round town. They’re good boys, 
but they aren’t Phil Tidds, and I’ve 
known them to hurt their voices over 
night. But all at once, just as a Wall 
street scheme strikes you, I thought 
how to make—well, there the analogy 
ends, for I wasn’t after money. 
“I hunted up Mr. Tidd, and asked if 
there wasn’t a town hall, where we 
could give a iree concert tnat evening. 
He 'lowed there was. There wasn’t 
much time to advertise in the suburbs. 
They reached up to the hall itself. But 
Mr. Tidd borrowed some horses of the 
neighbors, and I sent the fellows riding 
round the country, singing their own 
praises literally, for I let up on our 
strict rules and told them they could 
give a sample solo now and then. Yell¬ 
ing in the open air doesn’t hurt a fel¬ 
low’s voice like cussing in a room, you 
know, sir.” Mr. Welles nodded, with a 
fine appearance of intelligent under¬ 
standing. 
“The boys had a Wild West show all 
the afternoon, and came home hungry 
as bears and good natured as kittens. 
They wanted to know what I was up to, 
but it is well to keep mum before a big 
deal. ’ Mr. Welles looked as if he hadn’t 
heard. 
“Our dress-suit cases had gone on to 
the next city, and we had to go on the 
stage without prettying up. Jim Cheney 
said he couldn’t remember when he’d 
seen so many homely men. I, as con¬ 
ductor, particularly missed my coat tails 
when I made the opening announcement. 
I told them how we had got left, and 
that it was well for singers to practice 
every day, and we hoped they would 
call for any song they wanted. 
“Then I put the boys through a regu¬ 
lar dollar-and-a-half programme. Mr. 
and Mrs. Tidd sat on the front settee. 
She didn’t look as if she subscribed to 
‘Harper’s Bazar’ or even ‘The Ladies’ 
Home Journal,’ but she had a smile that 
I tell you the fellows just played for— 
sung for, I mean. It was getting late, 
considering the hall was packed with 
people who would have to drive home; 
and I felt it was time to play the joker 
—a collegiate term, sir. I gave the club 
one look, wheeled round to the audience 
and said, about as near as I can remem¬ 
ber: 
“ ‘Ladies and Gentlemen: We hope 
you have enjoyed the evening. We have. 
MOTHERS.—Be sure to use“Mrs.Wins- 
low’s Soothing Syrup” for your children 
while Teething. It is the Best.— Adv. 
We sing in lots of big cities, where we 
don’t care a rap for anybody in the au¬ 
dience, but here you seem just like 
friends, because you are fellow-towns¬ 
men of our classmate, Philip Tidd. (Sen¬ 
sation.) Any of Phil’s friends are our 
friends. He can’t get down this way 
because he is busy leading his class up 
at college, and doing extra work in va¬ 
cation, that will lead you to put up a 
tablet some time saying this town was 
the birthplace of one of the world’s 
great scientists.’ (I was getting warmed 
up, and using pretty good language, you 
see.) 
“ ‘Phil will be mighty glad to know 
you all send your love to him, for he’s 
true as steel, and hates awfully not to 
see the old faces and the old pies every 
vacation.’ (That was an X-ray remark 
of mine, for even Jim Cheney said he 
didn’t remember seeing Phil homesick.) 
“ ‘You nnss Phil now, and college will 
miss him as soon as graduation is over; 
but here’s hoping it will be many a day 
before me world loses Philip Tidd! I’ll 
warrant there is one thing he’s thinking 
of this very night, “Home, Sweet 
Home”; and, boys, let’s give it to them!’ 
“My, how we gave it! The club never 
sang so well. Handkerchiefs came out, 
all out Mr. >Tidd’s. Pride was burning 
up his tears. You know you don’t want 
to send people out of a hall witn long 
faces, though. So I whispered to the 
club, and they broke up the meeting 
with: 
“ ‘Oh, here’s to Philip Tidd! 
Drink him down, drink him down! 
Oh, here’s to Philip Tidd! 
Drink him down! 
Oh, here’s to Philip Tidd! 
He’ll do credit to this town; 
Drink him down, drink him down! 
Drink him down, down, down!’ ” 
“We had to leave early the next morn¬ 
ing, out Mother Tidd was up to give us 
a breakfast fit for Mr. and Mrs. Admiral 
Dewey, and Mr. Tidd hung around and 
looked at me as nobody ever did but 
you, sir.” And Tom choked a little, and 
stopped rather suddenly. 
Mr. Welles tucked the cushions under 
Tom’s bandaged leg, and said: 
“Yes, I guess that was the oest benefit 
concert you ever gave, if you didn’t 
make a cent. ’—Christian Register. 
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