Judge — November 28, 1914 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

HE “‘lady agent’’ always gets me, whatever junk she has for sale; with skillful tongue she soothes and pets me and blarneys me and draws the kale. The gent who sells the works of Dickens, in eighty-seven cloth-bound books, pursues in vain; but, ah! the chickens—I can't escape their velvet hooks! 1 éften vow, ‘‘Henceforth the ladies in vain will seek my humble home; I'll see the whole fair tribe in hades before I'll buy another tome! Too long, with language false and fibby, they have beset me on my way. I've bought the works of Laura Libbey, and also those of Bertha Clay; a five-foot shelf of old Nick Car- ter now ornaments my cozy den. Me- thinks the maidens must be smarter, if they can work me once again.’” I grimly frame this resolution, that’s viewed with pleasure by the frau, and pass around some elocution about my adamantine vow. And thus, with resolution laden, I to my musty office go, to which there comes a beaming maiden, who sells the works of Edgar Poe. “It is no use,’’ I firmly greet her. “The stuff is off—I will not buy.’ Whereat her smile grows all the sweet- er, and humor twinkles in hereye. Ah, why is man so weak and washy when round his chair fair damsels trot? I know I'll buy those volumes boshy, e’en while I tell her I will not! I always fall for female friskers, I still surrender to their snares, where I would take a man with whiskers and kick his person down the stairs. My words don't daunt her or af- fright her, although I say, ‘‘Can’t deal with you! I've bought the works of every writer that ever lived, and then a few! I have the works of Pope and Shelley, of Rex E. Beach and Richard Roe; I've Zola’s books— Lawyer—Are you acquainted with my client, this defendant ? they’re rather smelly; I draw the line at Edgar Poe. I hate to raise this sort of holler when you come up here peddling rhyme, but I will give you half a dollar if you will let me off this time.’’ In vain, invain! She smiles and twitters and lays a volume on my knee; I know I'll have to take my bitters before she will consent to flee. She talks about the text and printing, but I am thinking of the way Dame Nature does her fairest tinting on damsels young and blithe and gay. She talks about the illus- trations, but 1 am thinking how a maid can rattle kings and shatter nations, if she has eyes the proper shade. She talks about the leather binding, but I am looking at her hair, which like a rope of gold is winding above her forehead low and fair, I might fill up a dozen colyums about that agent and her charms, but, having bought some thirty volumes, I'll pack them homeward in my arms. Her Collateral ’ said Bridget, putting her head in at the but do Oi undhersthand thot yez lind money “Excuse me, cashier's window, here on character?” “Why —yes,"* hesitated the cashier. “Thin Oi'd loike fifty dhollars, sorr, on moine,’’ said Brid- get, producing a number of greasy references. ‘‘They’s sivin uv thim from me previous implyers’’—-— But the cashier had fled. The idea of explaining the intri- cacies of collateral to a lady with seven characters was too appalling. Excluded “Well, Rastus,’’ said the colonel, ‘‘I understand your club has declined to admit Julius to membership."’ “‘Dat’s a fact, kuhnel,’’ returned the old darky. ‘*Ah dunno what de objection to Julius was, but when dey come to vote, dey done whiteballed him.’” PREJUDICE Talesman—Slightly. He once did some plumbing for me. Laavyer—Excused.