Memoirs of an editor : fifty years of American journalism / Edward P. Mitchell.

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MEMOIRS OF AN EDITOR

narrative, his fondness for practical jokes and his general
sociability won the approval of his contemporaries. Amos
had story after story to tell of his Washington experiences.
For the sake of one of them, a yar which lingers, I shall
interrupt what must seem a rather dreary catalogue of
The Sun dynasties.
A new Democratic representative, who may be called
Persimmons here, from a backwoods district of North
Carolina, conceived an enormous admiration for Cummings and sought his society on all possible occasions with
a view to obtaining sophisticated advice on politics and
the ways of the world. One day he confided to Amos that
he had received an invitation to a White House reception
and didn't know what it was proper to wear. His present
attire he believed to be too informal.
They were walking together up Pennsylvania Avenue
and happened to be passing a ready-made clothing emporium of the inexpensive class. Amos seized his fellow
statesman, dragged him into the shop and cast a quick
glance over the stock.
"Persimmons!" he exclaimed, "this is truly providential. There's the very thing."
Cummings described to me the emphatic character of
the raiment in question. There was a pattern of huge
squares on a background of the hue of a leaking floursack,
with incidental dabs of purple. "It looked," said Amos,
"like one of those wall-papers with bunches of grapes
hanging from a trellis."
"It's pretty," admitted the Honorable Mr. Persimmons,
"but do you think-would I seem to be trying to be too
swell?"
"My dear fellow!" said his Mentor, "Some men

couldn't wear it, but it's one in a thousand for you;
there's individuality,, refinement, dignity, and yet good
color. There won't be anything like it at that reception
to the new members. Cabot Lodge and the Harvard dudes