Judge — March 7, 1885 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

THE JUDGE. in grief to part, For love that is but half comple Plays havoc with the heart. Had I, by fav'ring Fate's decree, Fscaped love's fitful ban, I might have lived, in fancy free, A richer, happier, man I had not then, in princely pride, Assumed a buggy bill, Or run in debt fo Or monkied with the s * snide,” i, Thad not known my spirit droop, At mamma’s with’ring glance, Or sat on steps and caught the croup ‘Thro’ basement of my pants. Her father's boot got in its act Ere yet my love I spoke, L hope I left her heart intact, I know I left her, broke. eo— “Jef. Joslyn" vs. French Mas- querades. RISTOPHER KOLUMBUS! but what an eventful time I had at that Cercle Francaise de l’Gaitie fancy-ball! Being an apparent mild specimen of a domesticated - Y Benedict, it would ordinari- ly be sapposed that I wouldn’t assimilate in & very great degree of assimilativeness with such hilarious doings as are prevalent at those Terpsichorean, Parisian-flavored gath- erings—but I cut loose from Mrs. Joslyn’s apron-strings, and took one of them in (to my sorrow) on the sly ‘“allee samee,” tho other evening. I had heard of the “high-kicking” and wine-drinking pandemonium of French mas- querades and tc, when Load on. advertios. ment of the above society’s annual Masque Ball, I decided to pandemone a little bit my- self, and, although I surmised the major por- tion of its patrons would consist of French cooks, waiting maids, shop girls, etc., and not exactly in the feudal ancestried, coat-of- armed Joslyn station of life, I nevertheless invested five-dollara in a ticket therefore, My bachelor friends who intended going, (and who swore secrecy as to my doing like- wise), very kindly suggested several char- acters that I might assume. One eaid I might wear a rimless plug hat, covered with soft white rubber, and take the part of agum- tipped lead pencil. (‘This was a sarcastic fling at my bean-pole form.) Another told me to nevermind a mask, but just dress upasaclown —look and act natural—and go as a fool— while a third said to put asign on my breath, and represent a distillery! I finally con- cluded, however, to disguise myself as “Spar- tacns,” and appear in a Roman gladiatorial outfit. The giddy evening having arrived, I wove an ingenious fable for my wife's benefit about “being obliged to sit up with asick friend,” and, leaving the confiding partner of my bosom at home, reading, I went post-haste to the costumer’s, after which—and incau- tiously spiritus Frumenti-ing at various drug stores en route—I finally reached the ball- room at about 11 o’clock, when the delirious “daunce” was at its height. Well, [soon plunged in the naughty vortex, and, while schottishing with frisky Fairies, galloping with saucy Vivandieres, or doing the cotillion act with stately Queens, I fell against corpulent Falstaffs, trod on the toes of grim, domino’d Monks, and rendered myself nuisance generally among the “trip- pers of the I. f. toe, in vain endeavor to keep step with the band-music, and also maintain a respectable equilibrium upon my far from sober legs. Yes, I felt ‘tired;” and when the oppor- tunity offered, I got a charming little waltz- ess, Who looked just too sweet for anything in her make-up as “Cupid,” off in a corner, where I sat down and enjoyed a quiet flirta- tion with her, until refreshment time. We both became quite confidential during our chat, and without mentioning names, I told her I was a married man, and how I had bamboozled my better-half in order to be present, while she entertained me with a description of the manner in which she fooled her mistress in allowing her a “night off” from her duties, on the pretext of spending it with a mythical brother who had come a long distance to visit her, and would have to depart on the morrow, We enjoyed the recitation of each other’s harmless deceptions with great gusto; and, as we conversed, I asked the pleasure of my fair unknown’s company into the banquet, when served, and promised to take her home in my carriage after the same was over. “The hours rolled on—we would not stir, Without the ‘supper!’ wor but at last it came, and I escorted my com- panion to the tables. Not being fafraid of meeting any other Benedicts there amid the masqueraders, who would give me away, for I would have the same ‘‘ bulge” on them, I ranged myself in line and waited for the order to unmask, with an infatuated curiosity to see my attractive “* Cupid’s” features. It came!—we unloosened the fastenings of our face-coverings simultaneously, and like thunder-claps, I successively realised—what? First—That the female with whom I had been so familiar, was Mrs. Joslyn’s kitchen menial, chamber maid, and general utility woman |— Second—That my bachelor friends present were convulsed with mirth, and that the joke on me would surely leak out!— Third—That I had better slide home and confess everything to my wife!— Fourth—That my “ frau” would insist on bouncing “Cupid” alias Maggie Mulrooney— however innocent she might be—and get a new hired-girl to do the house-work!—and Fifth—That Mrs. J.* would consider French Masquerades as altogether too rich for her meck husband’s blood, as a future amusement diet! I spend all my evenings ‘‘nnder my own vine and fig-tree” now, and I endure a daily martyrdom down town, for my office chums, it seems, are never going to let up rigging me about my “tender little tid-bit mash” at that unfortunate Cercle Francais de ’Gaitie fancy ball. Schurz in the Cabinet. «* THERE is some talk, Mr. President, that you intend to have Schurz in your cabinet.” Grov. C.—‘‘Oh certainly. The fact is that Washington society has been spoiled b these dude administrations and would kicl against a shirtless cabinet, though, if I could have my way, I would rather return to the Jeffersonian simplicity of a breech-cloth. But we'll have nothing fancy, mind you— biled shirts would be out of place in a work- ing cabinet.” From which we infer that no Schurz which have passed much of their time in hot water need apply. Ture modern poet who expects to wake 1 some fine morning like Lord Byron and fini himeelf famous, should rise very late. comicbooks.com |