London (By
Mail) - Irving Cobb was serious in an embarrassed sort of way, when he related
incidents that had come to him of the behavior of the American troops aboard the
Tuscania, particular of who sang, "Where do we go from here, Boys?" as they
drifted into the dark, away from the sinking liner.
"We knew
where we were going from there," Cobb said; "both those who lived and those whom
died. They are going on shoulder to shoulder with our brothers of English
speech, teaching them the lessons, that flesh and blood is worth more to the
world, than blood and iron; and dedicated to the God-given job of knocking the
mania out of Germania."
He was
serious, too, as he told why he thought America had a right to be proud of the
things being done there. "Think what the average mother in the average small
inland English town would say if she were asked to send her boy to California,
for instance, to prevent the Mexicans from imperiling the civilization of Texas.
That, in a way, is what the American mother is doing, willingly and gladly."
The
toastmaster introduced former Congressman John L. Lentz, of Dayton, Ohio. The
scream the genial Buckeye orator wrung from the national bird was perhaps the
most exultant of the evening. He told of the little girl's essay describing
Lincoln as "the son of poor parents, born in a log cabin," and solemnly averred
to Lord Charnwood: "That's the kind of stuff we make our Presidents out of."
But Lentz,
who opened his remarks with the salutation, "Fellow democrats," dedicated a
large part of his efforts to proving that Lincoln was really a democrat, the
same as Andrew Jackson and Thomas Jefferson. The distinguished English
biographer looked puzzled, but didn't object. He probably put it down as some
more American humor, just as it was.
Ambassador
Page retold a story he just had heard from a survivor of the Tuscania. It
related how one man in the act of dropping from the end of a rope into a waiting
lifeboat, saw a man in the water desperately trying to reach an upturned boat a
little distance away. Instead of dropping to safety then, he swung himself far
out and dropped into the water near the upturned boat, from which he managed to
pull the other man to comparative safety.
Somebody
discovered that Captain Howard Wycoff, of Chicago, Illinois; another Tuscania
survivor, was in the room. He was pulled to his feet and recited several
instances of the personal courage and good behavior of the men on the stricken
vessel.
The last man
to leave the ship, said Captain Wycoff, was a Texan, whom had comfortably
settled himself into a small boat that had not been launched because of broken
gearing. When the Tuscania went down, his boat was washed safely off the deck.
When he was picked up, he solemnly danced a Texan idea of a hornpipe and
remarked "the Boche didn't get me that time."
Asked if he
weren't afraid his little boat would be drawn down by the suction of the sinking
Tuscania, he replied, "No. I didn't know there was any suction."
Captain,
Camp Travis Casuals