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Updated: August 28, 2024
"Aye, aye, sir," said the mate, and shouted the order to the men ashore. The captain regarded him balefully, muttered a few words, and returned to the club for a Dr. Funk. That medical man ranked here above Colonel Rickey, who invented the gin-rickey in America. Herr Funk was better known in the Cercle Bougainville than Charcot or Lister or Darwin.
The city editor obligingly furnished further details regarding "Rickey" Hoff, as he called the young man, which, while differing in important respects from Doctor Hoff's, bore the ear-marks of superior accuracy. "The worst of it is," said the newspaper man, "that there are elements of decency about the young cub, if he'd keep sober. He won't go into the old boy's business, because he hates it.
The other man drank gin, and a lot of it. His name was Fred. He was very tanned. One day there had been a hot discussion over a sheet of paper that lay on the table in front of the three men in the back room. "Rickey" had called a messenger boy and sent him out for a geography. "I told you there wasn't any such thing there," the saloon-keeper heard him say triumphantly, when the geography arrived.
The digger half-rose, turned, collapsed to his knees, and pointed with bleeding fingers to his open mouth, in which the tongue showed black and swollen. They went down to him. An hour later, "Rickey" Hoff was sleeping the sleep of utter exhaustion in camp. Average Jones felt amply qualified to join him.
"Silent Charley" he found ready, even eager to talk. Yes; "Rickey" Hoff had been in his place right along. Drunk? No; not even drinking much lately. Two other gentlemen had met him there quite often. They sat in the back room and talked. No, neither of them was Spanish. One was big and clean-shaven and wore a silk hat. They called him "Colonel." A swell dresser.
He accepted a gin rickey, but declined rather curtly the suggestion of a little spree over Sunday to a resort on the Cape which formerly he would have found enticing.
He accepted a gin rickey, but declined rather curtly the suggestion of a little spree over Sunday to a resort on the Cape which formerly he would have found enticing.
Then there's Rickey, the ship-builder, and yes, even Alcott, the crimp, will take a piece of her. I'd look in on Louis Wiley, the chronometer man, and Cox, the coppersmith why I'd take in every firm and individual who might hope to get business out of the ship; and, you bet, I'd sell 'em all a little block of stock in the S. S. Narcissus Company." "It might be done," Matt answered evasively.
Some amends for an unsuccessful season were made on June 26, 1912 by a thrilling 2 to 1 victory over Pennsylvania before the thousands of guests and alumni who had gathered to celebrate the University's Seventy-Fifth Anniversary. The painstaking efforts of Branch Rickey, who had been coach of the team since 1910, and later became manager of the St.
Thatcher & Hutchinson. 12mo. pp. 425. $1.00. A History of the Discovery of the Circulation of the Blood. By P. Florens. Translated from the French by J.C. Reeve, M.D. Cincinnati. Rickey, Mallory, & Co. 12mo. pp. 178. 75 cts. Wars of the Roses or Stories of the Struggles of York and Lancaster. By J.G. Edgar. New York. Harper & Brothers. 16mo. pp. 330. 50 cts.
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