Life — July 3, 1884 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

LADY MESSALINA. By JEEMS. HEY were not a bit green; nor, though Americans, were they people of color; their color was all in their talk. That was strawberry roan and had a maroon border picked out with solferino. It lacked staying qualities, like all aniline conversation. They sat in two chairs, for though they were not rich, and chairs by the hour came high, they were much too good form to crowd into one chair and much too lazy to stand up. Rotten Row was in front of them and they were looking on and were able to take comfort in it; for they had often been to Chicago, and knew how such things should be done. ‘Their native land was too dear for them to live in it, there- fore they passed a nomadic existence abroad, being tramps, so to speak, and going out to America every few years to make sure that Boston still retailed her beans at fifty cents a plateful. They returned as soon as their appetites became keen. “On his high horse?” exclaimed Mr. Drear of a young man who rolled by. “How high?” questioned his wife as she followed the direction of his eyes. “ About eight millions, they tell me!” “Rotten with wealth!” Mrs. Drear. always spoke of wealth in that way; it was an expression she had picked up in Toledo when a young girl. “He’s after that girl.” Lord Scamperdown was indeed perfect. He had a big, handsome person and beard, and dazzled as he rode by with his two daughters. “One of them,” said Clinton Drear, “must be the maid that Jefferson Squeezer has the sour mash on.” It was an expression of his wife’s that he had caught. She got it from her father, an Ohio gentleman, who, when he succumbed in ’73, went down loaded with blue grass cordial, not, alas, in bond. She knew all the best people in Ohio, and when Dr. Speed, in an immense little pot hat | with the brim torn off, came behind her chair and asked if it was not more fun than a pig-under-a-gate (an expression much in vogue in Porkopolis), she was able to shake hands with him in fluent American, for his family had come to the | surface in Sandusky, and she knew that his grandmother had | been married, and to whom. Skinful Speed was a veterinary surgeon who had removed to New York from Cincinnati where a number of his cou- sins were in the same line of business and had crowded him out, When Jefferson Squeezer passed again he took off his pot hat and waved it at him, for they were pals. ! - LIFE: “Who is that handsome girl Jeff is riding with ?” he asked of Mrs. Drear. “Lady Messalina Hurdle.” “ And who is she?” “Lord Scamperdown’s daughter.” «And who is he?” Then they explained to him how the Marquis of Scamper- down had married a beautiful and industrious woman who had taken him out of pawn to the giddy world of frivolous amusement and made him part owner of twelve charming children of whom seven were daughters, and the rest sons, and how he intended to raise them all ! Jefferson Squeezer was not a slugger nor very big, but he was penultimately affirmative, and as likely to get there as a bigger man. He claimed to have 500 horses, but that was merely the result of a habit of ‘mind he had learned from his uncle who was an Ohio statesmen and a great head at fig- uring on deficiency bills. He may have had four horses,— or maybe a dozen. He purposely cultivated such little inaccuracies of talk so as to give his friends an exaggerated impression of the simplicity of his mind, whereas, if there was one thing more distinctly ascertained than another, it was, that he was a true son of Ohio, who wanted the earth and the fullness thereof and con- stantly took thought with himself, how he might escape all consequent headache. Like all Americans, he had been taught to work. He was a dentist by profession, but his wealth made it unnecessary for him to practice. Dr. Speed knew how definite was Squeezer’s ability, and what the pro- fession had lost in his retirement. “Your tooth wash alone,” he said, “ would have made you rich in five years, and judicious advertising would have made you famous ; you won't be now.” “ Hope it will be you,” said Squeezer. Il ADY PIQUERMAN had use for Squeezer. Lady Popsa- duke, whose countryman he was, had introduced him to her; she had presented her mother, and Lady Scamper- down had asked him down to Fetlock where he had been permitted to make eyes at the handsome Lady Messalina. “Do you love her ?” Lady Piquerman asked him as they drove together to a ball. “Why, certainly; should you be pleased if I married her ?” “Much, and by the way, you have been conspicuously devoted, and it may be kind to say that my father is a big man, and has a heavy club con- cealed behind the front door.” Squeezer wasted no time in musing upon the mystery of comicbooks.com