Judge — June 2, 1883 — page 4: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

TIME INTERCEPTED LETTERS. FROM MRS, STUYWESANT GILMOOLEY TO ARAMINTA Rows, My Deanest ( suppose you will for not being at home when dl yesterd: 1 T know you think down awh by the servant when Tsaid Ty but indeed [had just gone out on a round 0 Thad owed There was Starkington now; you know how people have been talk- ing about her, and though I grant she has been very foolish, yet [ eannot really believe all the gossip one hears, and, poor thing, she the countenance of a woman in my I met old Filkins there—just as anish as ever; poor old fellow, does he never mean to give in, He is made up like and the only passable feature is his teeth, and he must have paid a pretty long price for them, You were not at Mrs. Senator Smith’s ball the other night. I was sorry tom you, but to tell you the truth T hardly da to expect you—the party was really ex- tremely select. And then, know, carest. Araminta, everyone is supposed to be on duty more or less at such entertain- ments, and_ to fill some special niche in the evening, and really you know single | who have passed thefr premiere jeunesse have no special niche reserved for ‘them in this great busy world of ours. Sad, of course, but then it is true—how t no one knows better than you do, dearest. s out, Isee you have written another song. 1 do hope it may not fall as flat as the last one, but the opportunity for publication is well chosen just now. “There is a rage for that kind of thing, and any musical trash will go down, I suppose you heard th left her husband. gloss it over—that proper for the dear children affect to believe that she has g: to her people in Illinois, but 1 know better. You may trust me for scenting out a scandal TO GET UP. anywhere, and though my natural nature prevents my spreading it they ean fool me, Araminta, and there's no use trying Why, to cite an imstance vou will ret ber, just recall how hard ‘Vou t the wool over my eves when y« gagement with Simkins fell tl how very far you from k my words, there will turn out to be Mrs. Waters’ your were sncec ck of ment. ng int nd Po would be t ay anyone she has at very possibly she may have but F doubt it. world against Mrs very last to try vl 1 have bee t when vt think. Drop in when vou have ti a ways so much m at her disposal than the head of 3 household like mine; and then you semi-literary too, and) must rily do an immense amount of running around. Good-bye, love. Ever your true and affectionate friend, GERTRUDE STCYVESANT. GILMOOLEY neces: GotpsitH says: ‘To be poor and to seem poor, is a certain method never to rise.” Oliver is right. If you ean make the public believe that you button your ¢ up to your chin to hide your diamonds fr thieves you will have plenty of kind friends willing to help you, even though the truth be you conceal the only shirt you have, and that a dirty one. The public which would cheerfully ‘kick a man who is down, is gen- erally willing to help a man who jis inde- pendent of it. A priver in Brooklyn has been killed by a bag of salt. The Brooklyn Times, which reports the ‘ident, truthfully re: ks on it as a very singular one. Salt, doctors, cures more than it kills. ROMANCE. AND REA LITY. FOR DECOKATION DAY Direamtne by the dreamy sea. of the world beyond, fanciful and fond, ey two dwelt in sweet co Heel wlish, Over history’s broad exy Dreaming dreams of what had been— Twenty wo venteen, Lovers of the Viking’s tit Softly sung in Runic rhyme Bayard, fearless, without stains Roland’s maid of Alem: Springing from the poet's } Feed the hearts that they ¢ So they loved and wande Through a world of heroes gone. She in his young eyes conld see Lanncelot’s budding chivalry; her heart a soul he had Sir Galahad; ing lived again » grace of Sir Gawaine, And he scemed in everything Perfect as the eless King. ld faney in her » e Vivien’s winni . pure, without a stain, lily maid, Oft they wished that th Back to centuries gon Turning to a your As they turned the So her hero might 4 Splinter lance for fair El While Broidered lilies at cali shore live by Sweet tot aifes thi t the sword on warlike men, ribbon, knot or glove cherished for their love— in the modern world, andards are unfurled; ng come yof modern drum, ‘Then the superseded lance Is as useless as romance. Whe ‘or the North, Sumte inon thundered forth; When the trumpet's blatant mouth Called the armies of the South, Launec he without stain, hit to poor EI Ml she knew or cared to know Is—her lover lad must go, “Stay, my lo * Would Gawaine have faltere “But he held no maiden dear, « Launcelot loved his Guinevere.” So they questioned, hour by hour, Hero lore had lost its powe And the bravest knights of old Seemed less chivalrons than cold. So they parted—and no word comicbooks.com