Life — December 11, 1884 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

That court I haunt, not that I care For Justice in a general way ; Nor yet because I hope to share With anyone a client's pay. The reason why I then delay And on the court’s hard benches squirm Is that of Love I am the prey,— Her father is the General Term. ENVOY. I look at him with dire dismay— Scorched by his eye I seem a worm. “ Dismissed with costs,” is what he ‘Il say,—- That Justice of the General Term, BALLADE OF THE GENERAL TERM. ACH in his high official chair ; One who presides; two plain J. J. Decent of mien and white of hair They sit there judging all the day. The gravity of what they say Bent brows and sober tones confirm ; Brown, Jones and Robinson are they, Justices of the General Term. I see the learned counsel there Rise up and argue, move and pray ; Attorneys with respectful air Their legal accumen display. Serenely joyous if they may Of justice keep alive the germ ; Motion and argument they weigh Those justices of General Term. “ Well, I don’t care!" retorted Estelle. “I'll never marry that fat old Trotter, as long as I live, and I care more for well, no matter! Of course you ‘re very kind to me and all that, but I know I won't enjoy a sing/e minute of the whole week!” That same afternoon, she repeated the above conversation to Harry Treharne, with many additional expressions of dis- pleasure. “1am perfectly sure,” she said in conclusion, “that in tak- ing all this trouble and spending so much money, the on/y ob- ject that Papa has in view, is to throw me with old Trotter, and give him an opportunity to propose. But Iam going to be just as Aatefu/ to him as I can be!” and she shook her dim- pled little fist menacingly, as if the unfortunate Trotter was in reality standing before her. On the day before Christmas, the guests arrived at the Hall, and Estelle appeared to have forgotten her disappointment at the absence of Mr. Treharne, and was in an exceptionally good humor—at least so it seemed to her father. ‘ “ Has our hired ghost come out from the city?” she asked of him during the morning. “Not yet,” said the old gentleman. “He ought to arrive this afternoon and go directly to the inn. In the evening he will dress up and come over, entering by one of the music room windows, which is to be left unlatched for his benefit. I shall not sce him at all while he is here, and if I have any orders to give him, I will send him over a note.” On Christmas Eve, as the gentlemen lingered in the dining room over their after-dinner cigars, Colonel Clayton, who had but a moment before left the room, hurriedly re-entered it and asked the Judge if he might have a word with him in private. The Colonel was excited, and he nervously clutched the Judge's coat sleeve as he talked. In broken sentences he told him how he had gone up to his room in the North Wing, and how on entering, he had found a ghastly figure seated in his easy chair—“ with luminous green eyes, sir! And he was actually smoking my favorite pipe, by Jove! As I started for him he shied a book at my head and then pursued me half way down stairs, sir! Most extraordinary apparition I ever saw !" and the Colonel wiped the beads of perspiration from his brow with a trembling hand. The Judge punctuated the Colonel’s remarks with “ Bless my soul, Colonel!" “You do n’t mean it!" “ You ‘re a man of iron nerve, sir!” and sim- ilar expressions indicative of great astonishment, mixed with admiration at the Colonel's presence of mind. “Old family mystery, you know,” he explained. “The ghost, comicbooks.com