Judge — October 17, 1896 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

THE INTELLECTUAL LIGHTS OF BRAINVILLE, T WAS at a thimble-party, given by the president of the Intellect- ual Lights of Brainville. Asa very rare means of relaxation the worthy president had decreed that for one whole afternoon essays and discus- sions should give place to the more frivolous and supposed-to-be-femi- nine employment of fancy work. Somehow the Intellectual Lights fell readily into the fascinating fri- volities of embroidered violets, drawn-work and tating. “I believe it’s second nat- ure, after all,” thought the president. Aftera little the conversation drifted into the subject of super- stition. It began in this way. “My dear madam presi- dent,” exclaimed the secretary, “how can you be brave enough to keep those peacock feathers as you do? | really don’t see how you dare. I wouldn't for all the world!” ‘The president looked surprised. Why, my dear,” she said, “I know that old superstition regarding peacock feathers, but I am not, I'm glad to say, the least bit superstitious about that or anything else.” “ Now please,” said the secretary, “don’t imply that I am superstitious, for I certainly am not—not a particle! I detest such foolishness—but somehow I can’t have peacock feathers in my house.” “It’s only the ignorant who are superstitious,” said the positive woman with emphasis. “ My mother—-one of the most intelligent women I ever knew—would never sit down with thirteen at table. But she was far from being superstitious, and she laughed at those who were.” “Well, do you sit down with the unlucky number yourself?” asked the quizzical woman. “Hi, there! What are you fishing for?” “Oh, just for a cod.” “No, indeed, I do not,” responded the positive woman promptly. “We all have our little whims, and that’s mine. But I'm not superstitious one bit.” “Neither am I,” said the old lady as she threaded her needle. “Such things are mere folly, and I'd be ashamed to own to such a weakness; but last night I dreamed of snakes and muddy water, and I've felt blue all day.” “ Then you believe in dreams?” asked the quiet woman respectfully. * Not I,” said the old lady. “I'm proud to say I'm above such ignorance !” was ist los?” Biupsoz Jack—"* Wee-e-00-0.0-0w! Squat, yer tenderfoot dudes !—— SLAMDOWN (the German strong man)—‘* Oh, udge BUSINESS AND COMMISERATION. Sicnor SwifrMarte—"* Nicea da ear-muffa, ten cent da pair?” “Now, dreaming of snakes doesn't trouble me,” said the pretty . woman reflectively, as she tucked a stray lock into her Psyche knot, “ but when I hear a dog howl in front of the house at night I have frightful shivers all up and down my back. Ugh! You can’t fancy the horrible forebodings I have. Superstitious? Why, the very idea! I hope I'm too intellectual to entertain such foolishness.” “I'm not a bit inclined that way,” said the wise woman next. couldn't be so silly if | tried.” “ Didn't you miss your street-car the other day because you wouldn't cross the street until that long funeral-procession had gone by?” asked the frivolous woman smilingly. “Why, of course I wouldn't cut through a funeral-procession to catch forty cars!" responded the wise woman severely. “I wouldn't think of such a thing.” The parliamentary woman rose “Madam president,” she said with digni- ty, “although this is not a regular busi- ness meeting of our society I venture to move that a committee of three be ap- pointed by the chair, said committee to draw up resolutions denouncing supersti- tion in its every form as foolish and un- reasonable, and entirely unworthy of even a discussion by the Intellectual Lights of Brainville.” She sat down and the positive woman rose. “I second the motion, madam pres- ident,” she said. It was carried unanimously. “I don’t know, though,” said the par- liamentary woman to her neighbor as she resumed her fancy work. “I'm afraid that resolution will never do any good. This is Friday.” And the president, who overheard the remark, looked startled and ejaculated, “ Bless me, so it is!" MARRIET FRANCENE CROCKER, rae Wi Wanye MET HIS WATERLOO. comicbooks.cai