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Show Lawson Loves a Fight. Arnold Lawson. son of Thomas W., tells a story In which the owner of racing yachts and fast horses and a strenuous pen Is shown In a light that must be called unusual even If It seems to somo to bo characteristic. Almost exactly across the way from Mr. Lawson's Boston offices stnnds a church., on whose broad steps thcro gather each noon all the workmen who may be employed em-ployed In the neighborhood that day Sometimes In that al fresco luncheon-room luncheon-room a hundred laborers rub knees and exchange gossip. One day when a good-sized good-sized crowd was seated there eating, one big rrlshman suddenly clapped his hand to his cheek, let out a yelp of pain, and then swung his fist Into tho face of his neighbor on that side. By tho tlmo they wero nicely mixed up another workman squealed, grabbed hlw can and punched tho man behind him whom ho suspected. That was two fights under way, and in llvo minutes thc-ro wero seven, with a crowd of 2000 looking on and a policeman wildly telephoning for tho reserves. "I ran up to father's private office." says Mr. Lawson, Jr . "to get a bettor view of things from his front windows; and what do you think I found? There, behind tho shutters, stood father, convulsed con-vulsed with laughter, but every now and then recovering enough to take another shot through the slats with a good, stout blowpipe and somo blrdshot." Philadelphia Philadel-phia Ledger. |