Judge — December 12, 1896 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

378 HER FIRST EXPERIENCE. HE entered the polling-place, followed by a ca- nine of the pretzel-caudal- appendage variety. His physiognomy was of the style worn by a thirty-third-degree bruiser. Approaching the table with a bargain-counter air, coming from long and persistent pursuit of cheap no- sions and fabrics, she sought to seize a few ballots, but was successfully parried by a be- whiskered inspector. A monotonous basso- / profundo requested her name. “Edna Foxcroft Bassington,” she re- plied, with a commencement-day emphasis. “Where do you reside?” asked some one, amid the inharmonious scratching of a half-dozen pens. “On South Boston avenue,” she sighed in protest, but with martyr-like resignatic The adamant officials stared at their regis- try lists, escaping a freezing glance from her snapping eyes. “The number?” groaned some one else. Edna Foxcroft Bassington was rapidly losing her sweet dispo- sition. f. “This impertinence is unbearable,” she insisted, tapping her foot nervously, “1 shouldn't wonder but what you would next have the brazen impudence to demand the date of my birth and whether Charlie and I are engaged.” ‘The tragedian voice repeated the query without inflection, add- ing that it was necessary. Edna was plainly suffering from suppressed emotion, but she an- swered, “ Next to Mrs. Offleigh’s; the brown cottage with a green lawn in front and écru blinds.” Here there was a heavy fall in one of the booths and some one opened the door to discover that an adipose man, six feet tall, with a red beard, had fainted. He was removed to a drug-shop near by There was a tremor in the basso-profundo as it resumed the inquisi- tion with, * What number ?* Ednathought. “Let me see,” she continued, * Mrs, Offleigh’s is 642; ours is—yes—no—yes—I think number 654 Now I am moderately certain that it is 644 If you had a directory I could make sure.” A policeman at the door sat down, wiping the cold perspiration from his brow and looking quite ill. Edna was again about to speak when the bass voice.weak and husky, re- marked forall to hear and with apparent effort," E. F. Bassington, number 943.” But I don’t live at 943!" she as serted retortingly. “I'm certain it’s in the 64o’s somewhere.” . “That's the number of your bal- lot,” whispered the basso - profundo with public emotion. He handed her eighteen slips of paper of various sizes and tearfully pointed to the line of voting booths. “1 don't want all of these,” she protested. “I did not come here to vote for the whole neighborhood. 1am no repeatress, sirs, and I simply desire the single ballot representing the prin- ciples for which the champions of my sex have contended.” After this tragic declaration and Miss Crexitim—'* But each time I called yes- terday [ was told that you were out 7” Jack Porr—“* Well, so I was, The boys were in, playing poker.”” HE Gor THERE, NO LIE. after some one had accidentally expectorated beneath the table and hurt the optic of the tough-visaged dog, the bass voice, in an emotional whisper and with distress, informed her that the law required her to enter a booth, select her own ballot, fold it and deliver it to the proper official. Edna summoned her canine and strode like an injured queen toward the booth. “Here, Claudy, Claudy!" she called endearingly. Claudy, however, seemed to have suspicions and clung near to the exit. She pleaded with the watchers to aid her in procuring his unwilling carcass and securing his presence in the booth by force. They did not seem inclined. “Cruel, heartless things!" she half- shouted, half- sobbed. “ Dear Claudy, I cannot enter there without your guarding presence. Come,Claudy, come !” However, Claudy refused to loco- mote in that direction, “Take your old curl- papers, wretches!" she stormed, “This is a base conspiracy against us. You will not permit us to vote because you fear our power. She cast the ballots madly upon the floor, stamped upon them, and with Claudy sneaking at her heels strode out, banging the door. The sigh of relief that went up was carried unanimously. And the only remark made was the sound of numerous penknives, scratching from the record the abbreviated name of Edna Foxcroft Bassington. LA MowTe WALDEON, —the train, comicbooks.com