Baltimore Evening Sun (16 September 1912): 6.

Havre de Grace, n. [M. E. haven, havene=late A. S. haefen (gen. haefene) haefene (gen. haefenan)=D. haven=OLG. havene, havende, have, LG. haven=OHG. hafan, havan, haven, MHG. hafen, haven, habene, G. hafen=Icel. hoefn=Sw. hamn=Dan. havn (hence, from LG., OF. havene, hable, havle, F. havre, ML. also havana, a haven, harbor; allied to AS. haef, earliest form haeb, pl. haefu, the sea=OFries. hef=MLG. haf, haff, the sea, LG. haf, haff, shoal water, tide-flats=MHG. hap (hab), also habe, the sea, a bay, harbor, G. haff (after LG.), a bay, gulf, Icel. Sw. haf Dan. hav, the open sea; ME. grace, grase, gras=OF. grace, grasce, F. grace=Pr. gratia, gracia, grasia= Sp. gracia=Pg. gracia=It. grazia=L. gratia, favor, esteem, hence agreeableness, regard, favor, gratitude (in pl. personified, Gratiae, the Graces), gratus, beloved, dear, thankful, grateful, gemuethlich.] A haven in which sinners may attain to a state of grace by paying double board.

Contribution of the Hon. George W. Haulenbeek to the armamentarium of boomery:

If Baltimore could only have some references to it * * * in a play en tour, it would keep the best place on the map well to the front.

Can it be that the Hon. Mr. Haulenbeek has forgotten a late play by the Hon. George Bronson-Howard, of this fair town--a play which held the boards for two seasons, and dealt largely and eloquently with Baltimore and the Baltimoreans, their customs, ambitions and habits of mind? The name of that play was “Snobs.”

The Hon. Fred. Wright, chief opponent of the sewer rental plan, in The Evening Sun of Saturday:

I again repeat tbst the sewer rental on my small home, on a 40 foot lot, will amount to $15 a year–$10 for the house and $5 for my 20 foot side-yard.

Well, let us see. According to the rate card printed in the Sunpaper of August 12, the only sort of house upon which a sewer rental of $10 a year can be laid is one at least three stories in height and at least 20 feet wide. Such is Mr. Wright’s “small home.” In addition, he has 20 feet of side yard. Certainly a man who occupies that much of the earth’s surface cannot speak of himself as a Little Fellow.

The actual Little Fellow lives in a 13-foot house on a side street–a house, to take one of Mr. Wright’s past examples, assessed at $636. He has no side yard. He has no third story. Well, the sewer rental plan does not overlook these facts. Instead of charging this genuine Little Fellow $15 a year, as it charges Mr. Wright, it charges him but $4, or little more than one-fourth as much.

That proportion of one to four, perhaps, is not quite just. Maybe it ought to be one to ten, or even one to twenty. Granted. But this objection is not an argument against sewer rentals, but merely an argument against the schedule in the present act. That schedule, I have no doubt, has its defects. But is it more defective, on the whole, than the alternative scheme--the scheme, to wit, of taxing city dwellings for the sewers, and letting suburban dwellings, churches, hospitals and such huge exempt properties as the B. & O. Building escape?

The boomers! The boomers! They’re back again, by cricky! And once again their general is the Hon. Chas. H4. Dickey!

Dr. jur. Samuel Summer Field on the perils of rejecting the sewer rental plan:

Any man who thinks of moving to Baltimore to make his home with us, or of bringing or sending his money to Baltimore to put it in factories or other enterprises in our city, would certainly more apt to come if we have a $1.90 tax rate than if we have a tax rate of $2.20.

Let us grant it--and the Hon. Mr. Field’s massacre of tenses with it. But what reason has he for believing that the rejection of the sewer-rental plan would give us a tax rate of $2.20? Both he and the Hon. Aristides Sophocles Goldsborough assume it, but so far no figures in support of the assumption have been offered. The Mayor, on the contrary (see his article in the current Democratic Telegam), now figures a rate of $1.89 plus 15 cents, or $2.04. The Sunpaper’s mathematician worked it out to $2.04½. I myself have figured it variously at from $2.00⅔ to 2.01⅔.

Obviously, some one must be wrong. Why not appoint an expert to find out the truth? There are plenty of men in the City Hall who understand such things. Why not detail one of them to the task and so clear the air? Until the voters know exactly what the proposition now before them means they will be unable to vote upon it intelligently. And so long as any doubts remain in their minds they will probably vote against it, to be on the safe side. Let the Mayor have the whole matter investigated thoroughly and then lay the result before the people, that they may know what they are talking about and just what they are asked to do.

Dr. Howard A. Kelly in his counterblast to the Hon. Messrs. Bernheimer:

I leave Baltimore to serve in promoting the interests of purity in Detroit, Mich.

Which suggests the thought that a day impends when specialists in this benign science will be dragged out of bed at night and hustled across the continent in special trains, as the learned Dr. Barker was hustled from North Carolina to Maine. Through the ether will come the cry for help--and at once the professor of purity will jump into his breeks, go sliding down the pole, and then proceed magnificently to the scene of sin, by taxicab, canoe, bicycle, velocipede, train, steamboat, airship, mustang, camel and mule.

An enchanted press, as in the case of Dr. Barker’s historic gallop, will hang upon every episode of the reformer’s dizzy progress. The immoral city will cry for him. All the local practitioners will be brushed aside. And then, just as he heaves in sight, a pillar of fire will descend from heaven and consume every last sinner! Too late, too late! In vain, in vain! Back by accommodation train!

Since Geheimrat Turner took charge of things at Loch Raven there has not been a single case of yellow fever nearer than Phoenix and not a case of bubonic plague nearer than Govans.

The one regret of MM. Lefty Louie and Gyp the Blood is that they must miss visiting Havre de Grace, that bustling little city. Regards to MM. Eat-Em-Up Jack and Mike the Bite. The Hon. George the Brute olease write.--Adv.

If them ex-Sheriffs was real sports they would let go once in a while and give the State a chance to catch its wind.