Produced by Al Haines [Frontispiece: Along he comes with some dame he must have kidnapped from the Follies when Ziegfeld was busy countin' up the receipts or somethin'.] ALEX THE GREAT BY H. C. WITWER Author of "From Baseball to Boches," "A Smile a Minute," etc. ILLUSTRATED BY ARTHUR WILLIAM BROWN BOSTON SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY PUBLISHERS Copyright, 1919, BY SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY (INCORPORATED) DEDICATED TO RALPH T. HALE --EDITOR OF SMALL, MAYNARD AND COMPANY-- MY PUBLISHER--BUT STILL MY FRIEND CONTENTS CHAPTER I INTRODUCING ALEX THE GREAT II THE SELF-COMMENCER III PLAY YOUR ACE! IV DON'T GIVE UP THE TIP! V YOU CAN DO IT! VI THE LITTLE THINGS DON'T COUNT VII ART IS WRONG ILLUSTRATIONS Along he comes with some dame he must have kidnapped from the Follies when Ziegfeld was busy countin' up the receipts or somethin'. . . . . . . _Frontispiece_ I struck a match and he tells me they is 9,765,543 of them used in New York every fiscal year. "She's going to marry me, she's going to marry me!" She's knittin' a sweater for me that will prob'ly make me off her for life. "How perfectly sweet! If you two only knew what a pretty picture you make!" "Heavens!" says the vampire. "You must have worked all your life to acquire ignorance, for no one was ever born as stupid as you!" When the dames cast languishing glances at his handsome form, he glared at them like an infuriated turtle. ALEX THE GREAT CHAPTER I INTRODUCING ALEX THE GREAT Girls, listen--if friend hubby comes home to-night and while hurlin' the cat off his favorite chair, remarks that he's got a scheme to make gold out of mud or pennant winners out of the St. Looey Cardinals, don't threaten to leave him flat and accuse him of givin' aid and comfort to the breweries. Turn the gas out under the steak, be seated and register attention--because maybe he _has_! Scattered around all the department stores, coal mines, butcher shops, the police force and banks, there's guys which can sing as well as Caruso, lead a band better than Sousa, stand Dempsey on his ear, show Rockefeller how to make money or teach Chaplin some new falls. Yet these birds go through life on eighteen dollars every Saturday with prospects, and never get their names in the papers unless they get caught in a trolley smash-up. They're like a guy with the ice cream concession at the North Pole. They got the goods, but what of it? As far as the universe is concerned it's a secret--they're there with chimes on, but nobody knows it but them!