At a recent meeting the recollection of Whinney's affliction evoked from him this brave comment. "Just think!" he mused, "to love a woman, to lose her, and to never see her." "Whinney," I said, raising my glass in his direction, "there is more in life than merely seeing." FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 28: Excepting, perhaps, the long telegram from my old friend Capt. Peter Fitzurse, explaining that he was unavoidably detained correcting the proof of his forthcoming autobiography. See appendix for further light on Fitzurse's claim that the three fingers missing from his right hand _actually were frozen off when he grasped the North Pole_. W.E.T.] [Footnote 29: Author of "The Queen of Sheba."] [Footnote 30: Light on the Pole, by R. Whinney. $5.00 net, $4.50 in lots of six. Post. prep. Intr. by Prof. C. Towne, Nyack University.] APPENDIX In reference to a note on page 180, it seems desirable to reprint below (1) a paragraph which recently appeared in a New York newspaper over the signature of Don Marquis, and (2) a copy of the letter written by Dr. Traprock to Mr. Marquis clearing up the point in question. Ed. * * * * * A great deal of doubt is cast by his strange reticences upon the recent claim of Dr. Walter E. Traprock that he reached the North Pole. Did he, or did he not, find three fingers at the Pole which were frozen off of the hand of Capt. Peter Fitzurse when the Captain grasped the Pole, more than forty years ago, being the first man to lay his hand upon it? If he did not find these fingers, he did not reach the Pole. If he found them, and has said nothing about it, his object in concealing the fact can be nothing else than an unworthy jealousy. Who is this Traprock, anyhow? Capt. Fitzurse intimates that at the proper time he has startling revelations to make. It is significant that Traprock was first heard of a year or two after Dr. Cook ceased to figure in the public prints. On Board "Kawa" Peck's Slip, N.Y. July 21, 1922. Don Marquis, Esq. Park Row, New York City. Dear Sir:-- A number of my friends have called my attention to recent remarks published over your signature which by insinuation cast a veil of ambiguity over my identity. I am not used to having veils cast over me and I resent the practice. "Who is this person, Traprock?" you ask. "Has he ever been to the North Pole?" Let the ice-bergs answer! Let the Polar-pack groan its reply. I scorn to. You also ask if by any chance I discovered three fingers frozen to the Pole. I _did_ find three fingers not frozen to the Pole, but preserved in an otherwise empty gin bottle. They were cached in a rude cairn, mute memorials of some brave man who had ventured north of eighty-six. Of course I at once thought of my friend Fitzurse. Could they be his? The nails were not black enough, but I could not be sure.