Down in the grizzly-bear pit one of the bears squatted himself in the pool and sat there, grinning complacently at the crowd.  We explained that the bear was taking a bath.  This presented a familiar train of thought to the Urchin and he watched the grizzly climb out of his tank and scatter the water over the stone floor.  As we walked away the Urchin observed thoughtfully, “He’s dying.”  This somewhat shocked the curators, who did not know that their offspring had even heard of death.  “What does he mean?” we asked ourselves.  “He’s dying,” repeated the Urchin in a tone of happy conviction.  Then the explanation struck us.  “He’s drying!” “Quite right,” we said.  “After his bath he has to dry himself.”

We went home on a crowded Girard Avenue car, thinking impatiently that it will be some time before we can read “The Jungle Book” to the Urchin.  In the summer, when the elephants take their bath outdoors, we’ll go again.  And the last thing the Urchin said that night as he fell asleep was, “Mokey kicking the grass away.”

FELLOW CRAFTSMEN

Robert Urwick, the author, was not yet so calloused by success that he was immune from flattery.  And so when he received the following letter he was rather pleased: 

Mr. Robt.  Urwick, dear sir I seen your story in this weeks Saturday Evn Cudgel, not that I can afford to buy journals of that stamp but I pick up the copy on a bench in the park.  Now Mr. Urwick I am a poor man but I was brought up a patron of the arts and I am bound to say that story of yours called Brass Nuckles was a fine story and I am proud to compliment you upon it.  Mr. Urwick that brings me to another matter upon which I have been intending to write you upon for a long time but did not like to risk an intrusion.  I used to dable in literature to some little extent myself if that will lend a fellow feeling for a craftsman in distress.  I am a poor man, out of work through no fault of mine but on account of the illness of my wife and my sitting up with her at nights for weeks and weeks I could not hold my job whch required mentle concentration of a vigorous sort.  Now Mr. Urwick I have a sick wife and seven children to support, and the rent shortly due and the landlord threatens to eject us if I don’t pay what I owe.  As it happens my wife and I are hoping to be blessed again soon, with our eighth.  Owing to my love and devotion for the fine arts we have named all the earlier children for noted authors or writers Rudyard Kipling, W.J.  Bryan, Mark Twain, Debs, Irvin Cobb, Walt Mason and Ella Wheeler Wilcox.  Now Mr. Urwick I thought that I would name the next one after you, seeing you have done so much for literature Robert if a boy or Roberta if a girl with Urwick for a middle name thus making you a godfather in a manner of speaking.  I was wondering whether you would not feel like making a little godfathers gift for this innocent babe now about to come into the world and to bare your name.  Say twenty dollars, but not a check if it can be avoided as owing to tempry ambarrassment I am not holding any bank account, and currency would be easier for me to convert into the necesity of life.