BEDTIME STORIES

Evening Star, Issue 19019, 14 August 1925, Page 11

BEDTIME STORIES

FOR MS WRIGLEY [By Louis CabtX/E, in Melbourne ‘ Punch.’] This is all about little Otto B. Wrigley, who—— . . . Grandpa, who was little Otto B. Wrigley? Hush, my child, I hope that American sailor didn’t hear you. But, see, he has taken his hat off; his eyes are shining. It has made him think of Hunktown, Paz. For in Hunktown, -Pzz.j there is a statoo of little Otto, and chiselled on the base there are the beautiful words: “ Otto B. Wrigley. The Supreme Economist.” Ever since his first mouthful of toffee, little Otto was haunted by forebodings of worldly transience. To the child it seemed unutterably sad that, the beautiful things of life should fade away so soon. Invariably before the full flavor of the stuff had become apparent he discovered that he had digested his All Day Sucker beyond any earthly hope of resurrection; and so it was with his Floral Jubes, his Nutto Bars, his Edinburgh Mixture. The things had gone, almost before he had been able to realise their presence. It made him not merely repine, but Think. Often, in the middle of a bite, he would pause wistfully; a brooding, puzzled look would come into his eyes, and he would feel himself on the fringe of some unspeakable but lovely thought, some secret discovery which would shake the march of nations. Thus, seeking, ever seeking, little Otto came to school, where, amidst the crude gorginga of his comrades, the pathos of it all stared him in the face more bitterly than ever. Quietly, hut with sublime patience, he began ms experiments. _ India-rubber, candlegrease, plasticine, even, _ indeed, fishglue, formed the material for these early labors, and often the boy would have to be carried rapidly to the doctor, his face set in agony, but in his eyes the light of one who has seen something nobler, purer, better, something, maybe, beyond all human endeavor. , , , Testing these patient formulas in school one day, tittle Otto suddenly emitted a sharp, yelp of pleasure. His teeth embedded in some hidden object, his mouth slowly moving up and down, the boy’s face shone with a wild, in credulous delight. “Wrigley,” said the master sternly, “what are you doing?” “Please,” said little Otto, speaking with difficulty on account of his mouth being, full, “please, sir, it won’t dissolve!”

Thus more than 2,000 years ago an ancient Greek cried out: “Eureka!” “Stand up, Wrigley!” ordered the master, not understanding. “ Miserable' boy 1 Ton are cheating!” “No!” shouted Otto in triumph. “No, I’m not eating! I’m chewing!” Tho distinction conveyed nothing to the dominie, a rough, stern old roan, though kindly. “Bend over, my lad,” he said tersely. When the, dust from Otto’s trousers had cleared away and the lad’s raucous howls had subsided, the pedagogue found, and confiscated, a number of curious grey lozenges on ■ his victim’s desk. I Meanwhile, like all life’s heroes, > martyred and misunderstood, little Otto mourned. In half an hour’s time tho stern old master sought him out, his face strangely drawn and his lips ( moving spasmodically. ! “ Wrigley,” he said simply, how do ~ you get this infernal stuff off your teeth?” . ! Quietly, hut with a touch of pride, 1 the boy showed liim the knack. _ Together , they sampled the remaining lozenges. . „ “ I gather tho idea is not to swallow the—er —confection,” said the school teacher, the light of a great understanding breaking over him. So much is clear. But tell me one thing —what do you do to finish with it? Eat it? Throw it away?” Modestly the lad explained the of bedposts. The fine old fellow’s iron countenance softened as his pupil spoke. “Shake, Wrigley,” ho cried. “You’re on to something real big—a hum-digger.” Drying his eyes, the ■ child-pioneer shook. _ i In this way the great idea was horn. ! Like all famous inventions, the method was simple. But it required a hero’s courage to explore the way. Thus was , the first oyster tasted; the first mush- , room fried: the first Widow’s Blush cocktail swallowed. In a flash the news had eddied round the world._ Rough wharf laborers a thousand miles away were biting off mouthfuls of rubber; . the air thickened with (die reverberation of a million champing mandibles. And the nation, with the simple devoted gratitude of a great people, honored little Otto because he had solved the secret of perpetual mastication. Henceforth food was indestructible. And now to-day little Otto has thousands of employees out in the jungle, busy spearing the mint and chipping the chicle, so that a nation may be sated. His rewards have not been merely financial, as in thecase of such princes of the merchandising art_ i.s Humm J. Ripslinggcl, whose devices for. manufacturing point steak out cf glucose enabled him to make a spot cash offer for the Arc de Triomplie—the idea being to use the thing a*-’ a garden gate at the Ripslinggel home on Main street, Mo. (Pa.). He lives in the bosoms of his countrymen, mwo specially the dentists. His name u 1 urs more than once in Glubb’s monumental work on Dental Caries, and the head ! of the Prince Grand Empire of False I Plate-layers recently presented him j with his portrait done in oils. 1 So good-night, my dear, and don’t, forget to look at the bed-post be! ore j you catch hold of it, and if you’re a | good boy, nurse may give you a cake | of her Peppo Flavor (It’s. Toasted) and let you pretend you’re a 100 per cent. He-Man.