Life — October 11, 1883 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

LIFE: 181 TWO SUMMER IDYLS. N humble boy, with a Shining pail, Went gladly singing Adown the dale, To where the cow with The brindle tail On clover her palate did Regale. An humble bee did Gaily sail Far over the soft and Shadowy vale, To where the boy, with The shining pail, Was milking the cow With the brindle tail. The bee lit down on the Cow's left ear; Her heels flew up through The atmosphere— ‘And, through the leaves of A chestnut tree, The boy soared into Eternity. ATMOSPHERIC. Old Gentleman (to his grandson from Philadelphia) : JOHNNY, 1'M AFRAID YOU ARE NOT HAVING A VERY LIVELY VISIT HERE, WHY DON'T YOU GO OUT AND PLAY WITH THE OTHER BOYS? Johnny : MAMMA THINKS IT BETTER I SHOULD N’T; SHE DOESN'T WISH ME TO MAKE ANY UNDESIRABLE ACQUAINTANCES, envious persons had heard of the prenuptial accomplishment already referred to, and were alert to discover in Mrs. KorKa- ‘WALLOON any symptom of unaristocratic congeniality with the Lower Ctasses. Be it said to the credit of her refinement that she disappointed them and cheered her haughtiest new friends at one and the same time, by immediately drawing the line of acquaintance so closely as to even exclude her two successful but now frenzied pilots, who after being twice omitted from an opera party, and once snubbed at Mrs. Opiitr’s small and early, scur- ried off in consternation to find some fresh behemoth on which to get insome fine work ; much as our other little local tugs, after panting and straining their way through the Narrows with the Servia, should she be crippled, would gambol off to look for the City of Rome. This same delicate consideration for others—that essence of true refinement only found in First CrrcLes—cropped out once like an exquisite bud at a notable dinner. “ Why,” said Mr. McABig, the polished, unto Mrs. VERBRUSQUE, the urbane, at that enjoyable occasion,—" why have you placed me under so many obligations by embellishing my neighborhood by such an ornamental row of shops?” The great lady replied (observe the neatness of the repartee— so irrevelant, so evasive, and yet, so to speak, so fetching) : “ Are they not large enough for snuff boxes?” This, of course, in the First Circie. If the question had been put by a tobacconist to a tavern-keeper’s wife, she would probably have been excessively rude and personal in her reply, but in this case, as we see, the unerring instinct of refinement had play, and the two were made friends for life. But perhaps the greatest proof that refinement, as well as in- telligence, is the guiding spirit of the First Crrcxe, is found in the fact that among its members mere vulgar wealth, heaped up by greasy hands, has no influence. At no First C1RcLER can the slow, unmoving finger be pointed with the remark that his or her sole recommendation is money. Indeed, wealth is often held in such abhorrence that the unfortunate young possessor of it will not be welcomed to a young girl's home oftener than seven times or so a week, while the youth of talent and ambition and moderate income is free to drop in as often as the well-instructed servant who attends the door will allow. Mothers who are attached to the First Circe are always proudest and happiest when their dutiful sons fall in love with a penniless girl, and comicbooks.com 4}