Judge — May 24, 1884 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

THE SIX-DAYS RACE——-WHAT WE ARE ALL AFTER. A royal Princess, too! good gr rather be a New York girl than the of any of these parsimonious Dutchmen, I don’t care what their titles are. The other day, I was complaining not havin ious, Pd sughter bout flicient funds to meet my con- tingent expenses, when Heraclitus burst out laughing. and said: “Well, how we are coming on! contingent expenses, indeed!” ‘Then I got mad and went for him, as they say in the States. ‘Then he got mad and said he would advise me to read the memoirs of the Princess Mice! ‘That, perhaps, after I had learned nw a royal Prine danghter of Queen Victoria, had been obliged to economize, I might be induced to feel satisfied with my means and my position. Stuff and nonsense! letters, etc. already? And didn’t I give it to my worthy spouse? [ just informed him that all the trouble the poor Princess had was caused by the meanness and parsimonious- ness of her husband. I never heard of anything so shabby as his treatment of her, and if she had been a free-born American citizen, she would proba- bly have got « divorce from him in the early days of her married life and might h lived herself to a good old age. Heraclitus, for once, didn’t know what to say. I suppose this way of looking at the subject struck him in a new light. But I wasn’t through yet, and I asked him if he supposed the Grand Duke's mor- ganatic wife would have to struggle and pinch as the Princess did, and mend her own clothes and turn her children’s dr He said he didn’t suppose anything didn’t care. Then I asked him what he brought the subject up for, anyhow. He soon after went out and I didn’t see him again until the next morning. I didn’t care a bit, for he had not been long gone when I ‘received a most unex- pected and delightful visit from the Baron I don’t know what brought him over to London, I’m sure, but he was just delight- ful and told me all the Paris news and said lots of pleasant things. He told me how desolee he was because I left before the Steeple Chase meeting, and Hadn't I read the said he should have been so happy to have taken me there. I should have had the box seat on his coach—he drove four lovely bay I know just what kind of a costume I should have worn, and I do think it was too bad of Heraclitus to drag me off here right in the face of so much pleasure. ‘The Baron thinks so too. I didn’t tell itus of the visit, for it wasn’t neces- The Baron is going right back to Paris, and I shouldn’t wonder if business called Heraclitus there right soon. So I'll hold my peace for a time and sec how he behav Mr. Irving and Miss Terry have arrived, and one would think no one had ever crossed the Atlantic before, to read the papers. I deel; I think it’s about time all this gush about actresses was stopped. ‘Things have reached such a pass that a decent, modest woman stands no chance at all of getting her name in the papers I'm perfectly crazy to go to a drawing- room, and the very next one that’s given I mean to be on hand. I can get admitted easy enough, but I dare say T shall have to manage the whole affair mysclf. I'm quite sure Heraclitus will opp any way he can, but he can’t squelch me. It’s dreadfully dull here just now, but I’m improving my time. I’m having just the swellest kind of a suit made by a swell tailor, and I’m also having a new riding habit, Heraclitus hates horseback exercise but / don’t, and the Baron says I’m a charming equestrienne, and I intend to ride as much as much as ever I can. Marie says she heard Mr. Pennyfeather tell another gentleman that he thought he should have to go back to Paris in a few days. So I live in hopes, and the woman to preserve her soul in patience will for once be PENELOPE PENNYPEATHER, The Mayoralty Question. Jonux Kety would make a good mayor, and if nominated may-or may not be elected. As we don’t know, we will, as a Scotchman would express it, say na mair about it; or, in horse language, neiyh mare. Chance. ASPRING IDYL Mrs. OLpHEN was recently mother of nine little Oldhens. there are only three. sticking the proud Bat now One died of a cherry- in its throat; anoth trough for a nata rium, and under the impression that it had a life-preserver tied around its stomach, was drowned; two more succumbed to that dre: fal malady which sweeps so many brig! chicks into an untimely grave, the * gaps and Mrs. Oldhen affectionately sat down too hard on two of the most promising, smother- ing out their young lives in her too demo: ive embrace. But Ruby and Sally and nce remain. With Ruby and Sally our as nothing to do. Of Cha Chance will one day be a fine big rooster. That is, if he escape the numerous besetting perils of chickhood: the boy and the bric! the Lime Kiln Club, and lastly (and leastly) the boarding-house keeper: who scours the country up and down for chickens in the bloom of youth. Yes, my countrymen, he a scourer from Scourville. But he always scour with brilliant success. chickens with the bloom of youth on their cheeks seem to elude him with more bril- liant success than he scours. The boarding- house keeper don’t seem to always find them —in the bloom of youth. So Chance, so far as the boarding-house keeper is concerned, has about 9999 chances in 10000 of living to a ripe old age “Chance” is not short for Chauncey. Mrs. Oldhen calls him Chance, because, she says, he came by chance, and not, pre- cisely, in the usual way When, after Mrs. Oldhen’s long and weary confinement, eight of them peeped out at the great wide world from under her sheltering wings, she thought they had all strived. Without delay she stepped proudly forth and introduced them to her lordly consort—who was just then carousing with some boon fellow-roosters at the sign of the yellow corn-crib; but they had not all ar- rived, and while the fond mother was noisily dissertating to the little ones and disappearing with them around the corner of a board pile, comicbooks.com