Judge — October 1, 1910 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

The Telephone Voice. By ALEXANDER HARVEY. “qe T IS with the voice of a Greek god addressing in fancy the rosy-fingered an- gel of morn that I press the telephone receiver to my ear and begin, ‘* Two—oh —thr. —oh!"" It is my vocal soul hailing its beloved. It is my telephone voice. What psychical impetus I give it, for I am not seen, and, being un- seen, I would evoke a thrill, some suggestion of the mysterious. I would have my unknown auditor leap in spirit during that brief in- terval before she speaks. She speaks! Romeo it was who exclaimed as much at the opening of the balcony scene. “*She speaks!" he cries. “Oh, speak again, bright angel!’? It is what is known tech- nically on the stage as an “aside.” So is my formula of ‘‘ Two—oh—thr-r-e-e—oh-h."” How slowly I say it, hanging upon the fig- ures as Marguerite hung upon the arm of “TRIXIE."" “ BRUTUS.”" “ BEAUTY.” What chance have the poor dogs when women persist in giving them such names? really said, I dream to be those magic words of the Verona maid, ‘* Bondage is hoarse and may not speak aloud.’ Had not Juliet sighed for a falconer’s voice? But it is my turn again and in my finest telephone tones I am forced to say that I have put the dime in. Something is wrong with the mechan- A WOMAN'S WAY. Miss Nexelyengaged (unused to motor cars and their ills) —'* I can't see what you find so interesting in that horrid collection of twisty things. This makes the fourth time you've left me to look at it. Well (sigh), I suppose all men are alike."” Faust. I have already sighed ‘ Madison’ or Gramercy,” but it is the mere overture to the concert of my caress. I know not how my telephone voice assails the ear into which I pour it as Romeo poured his vows into the ear of Juliet, but I love to think it finds an echo somewhere, somehow. ‘* Madi- son, two—oh—thr-r-r-ee—oh,"’ I get in re- turn, but to my infatuated ear it means more than that—sometimes. For the tele- phone voice, to the truly taught ear, has all the witchery that makes the human heavenly. J recite my formula like a secret code inter- preting the same vows that made the great heroines of melodrama faithful to their loves forever, ‘All this is but a dream,"’ as Romeo again, ‘‘ too flattering sweet to be substantial.’’ Yet are we not such stuff as dreams are made of? ** Put ten cents in the slot, please.’’ That telephone voice again! I am Romeo still, and I vow I hear her say, ‘‘ Hist, Romeo, hist!" How the illusion is supported by the telephone booth, hot and stuffy, with the druggist outside. She had told me to place a dime in that slot and she had given the command in Juliet’s accents. What she ism. Now does she tear the cave where echo lies and make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine with repetition not of her Romeo’s name, but of this: “Madison, two—oh—thr-r-r-e-e—oh-h."’ That coin has triumphed over the stubborn slot. Tomy imagination it is Juliet’s nurse calling her within, and I am left alone be- neath the balcony or in the telephone booth —my telephone mood makes it the same thing. It is all the magicof a voice. True, we shall never meet, never identify one an- other. We are not even ships that pass in the night—only two voices, I striving to keep my tones soft, steady, smooth, and deep. How steady is my larynx and with what romantic emotion I realize that there should be no rigidity of the vocal apparatus. Mere courtesy will not carry me through. I must mount the loftiest peak of my temper- ament. I¢ is in the telephone voice that my accents reach her—the telephone voice— that last supreme effect of twentieth-cen- tury civilization. “ Hal-lo-o-ob-h-h!”” Iam fascinated by the symmetrical flow, the rhythm, the melody of this new tele- phone voice. In a trice I have forgotten RESOURCEFULNESS. Maid— sorry, ma’am, but there ain't no bread in the house.” Bride—" Well, Mary, make some toast.’ comicbooks.com