Baltimore Evening Sun (2 September 1912): 6.

Remarks of the Mayor of Munich when Col. Jacobus Hook explained to him how jobs are farmed and bartered in the Baltimore Tax Department: Donnerwetter! Sapperment! Gott im Himmel!

When Dan Loden has got jobs for 40 head of uncles and 40 head of cousins, he promises to chase the rest out of town.--Adv.

Patent notice in the current issue of the United States Patent Gazette:

• 1,012,830. RAW-TALLOW SUBSTITUTE FOR LUTBRICATING PURPOSES AND PROCESS FOR MANUFACTURING THE SAME. Karl Engel, Hannover, Germany. Filed August 3, 1911. Serial No. 642,111.
• 1. A raw tallow substitute for lubricating purposes consisting of a sponge substance impregnated with a consistent fatty mass.
• 2. A raw tallow substitute for lubricating purposes consisting of sponge waste impregnated with a consistent fatty mass.
  
• 3. A process of manufacturing a raw tallow substitute for lubricating, which consists in impregnating a sponge with a hot liquefied fatty mass which congeals on cooling.
• 4. A process of manufacturing a raw tallow substitute for lubricating, which consists in melting consistent fat, then immersing a spongy substance in said melted fat, and then cooling the fat-lubricated sponge.

Note the address of the inventor. Can it be that the Hon. Jacobus Hook’s alleged visit to Munich was a bluff, a blind? Can it be that he really went to Hannover, and there bought the American rights to this novel and useful invention?

Certainly the Hot Towel should pay a good price for a couple of gross of these new tallow sponges, these hand grenades of flattery. It has had much trouble of late with the raw tallow of commerce, which contains corundum and other impurities, and so clogs the tallowing machine and scratches the customer. In an effort to avoid such difficulties it has experimented with a cotton-seed oil, oleomargarine, goose grease, vaseline, whale oil, lard and graphite, but all to no purpose. Witch hazel, which it has also tried, is a mere finish, a top coat, a lacquer, and too weak for heavy greasing. But these German tallow bombs give great promise. Maybe Herr Engel--how appropriate the name!--will now invent a mortar for firing them.

AH, THE FLATTERER; OR,
TALLOWED BY THE
TALLOWED.

[From the Hon. the super-Mahon’s great message to the jobhounds.] The Sun and The Evening Sun, the latter of which is only distinguished from the former by being more scurrilous.

The Hon. Satan Anderson on the approaching bout with the Hon. Kid Price:

Senator Price showed no indication of a real hankering for a debate until he became possessed of the idea that the league superintendent was trying to avoid an actual meeting. Then he came on strong.

Well, well, let it pass. Whatever his preliminary tremors and hesitations, he is now fully committed to the combat and will doubtless enter upon it with knightly valor. All the public now asks of him, and of the Hon. Mr. Anderson, is that they fight fairly, that they obey the referee, that they eschew all unseemly chewing. Multitudes will witness the bout and other multitudes will hang upon the issue. It will be the greatest combat Maryland has seen since that memorable one which cost the late Mr. Kelly his ear.

The estimable Lord’s Day Alliance continues its holy war upon the 5-cent slot machines and tin-horn raffles of the Oriental faubourgs, sending out spies, sleuths and ecclesiastical sluggers. Meanwhile the manly sport of racing goes on at Havre de Grace, under the auspices of the State of`Maryland. No doubt Havre de Grace is much honored and benefited by the presence of so many eminent sportsmen, particularly those from New York. A few of the latter are unable to attend this year, being detained in jail for murdering the late Mr. Rosenthal, but those actually present, I dare say, worthily represent the fraternity. Let the young men of Havre de Grace look and learn. Let them note the grand air of the Hon Jake the Snake, the brave plunging of the Hon. Hell Hen, the magnificent diamonds of the Hon. Headlight Cohen, the chromatic shirts of the Hon. Mike the Bite. Let them behold and venerate the Hon. MM.:

All honor to the gentlemen who have given Harford County and Maryland this new boon! As the Hon. the super-Mahon has so often said, we must woo and lure the investor. Well, here his “close personal and political friend” is luring investors--from Broadway and Forty-second street. And meanwhile the Hon. Bernie Lee, at the City Jail, makes ready to receive a few more tempted clerks.

The boys may be red hot for Woodrow, but few believe that they will go as far for him as they went for J. Albert.

From the estimable Sunpaper of this morning:

Is it permissible for reserve policemen to play dominoes in a station house on Sunday? This question caused no little argument at the Northeastern Police Station last night.

Argument? How and why an argument? Can it be that cops are so thick of moral hide that they do not sense the natural immorality, the essential criminality of dominoes? But, after all, what would you in so loose a town? As the super-Mahon long ago pointed out, the vice of Sunday novel-reading has rotted our moral fibre. Some of us even take walks on Sunday, or go automobiling, or work out the puzzles in the Sunpaper. Baltimore is on the moral toboggan. We go the swift and fateful way of Sodom and Gomorrah.

Still, even if it isn’t necessary, it does a supermahonic health warden no harm to know a little medicine. Sometimes there is a fight in a ward club, or a member us taken with cramps.

Note of protest from an estimable reader:

Don’t say that if one believes in Democracy one must accept woman suffrage. Some people are given arsenic by their physicians, in doses which would be fatal if doubled.

Precisely. But isn’t that an argument in favor of doubling?