Life — January 8, 1885 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

- LIFE: ‘were conspirators and unseen factors in the great political movements of the United States. They initiated important political measures, ordained peace, war or neutrality, and turned the scale of their country's future with their silent force. They altered constitutions and charters, and elected or defeated presidential candidates. It is unnecesary to add that they were all three clergymen, and all their names began with B. John Gassington—the bold, independent, free-willed John, was one of their puppets. He was demonstrative or silent, | active or passive according to their bidding, but: he was al- ways ambiguous. This, without doubt, entirely destroys your respect for John and the morads that you were to draw from his character. Why, then, did I weaken my story by dragging in these busy B's? Simply because I am fond of a little hocus-pocus, and with this explanation I dismiss the mystic three. Acchange had come over Boston since John Gassington had parted from Josephine Thorn. Spring had given way to summer, and poor Joe, pale and thin, had been sitting patiently waiting and fanning off flies, during the long, lonely days. She had been trying to make up her mind to take advantage of Leap-year and propose to him if he ever should return. She was certain that 4e would never pop the ques- tion and she determined to learn her fate at all costs. Mean- while, she wept copiously in her solitude. * Donald Sirbritain was to marry Stella Crandon, and one August morning Joe found herself at Newport clad in a bridesmaid's dress. 21 among -your presents, to begin-housekeeping with. I* was only necessary for John to remark that “culture was con- science, because conscience means the exercise of honest judgment, and ignorant people can form no honest judg- ment,” to have Joe burst into tears and turn her exquisite face from his. As a last resort, she fainted and fell into his arms, and John, forgetting that ambiguity which had done | him such good service in his political career, was carried away | bythe situation and murmured—“ I love you,” which was the first really satisfactory sentence that Joe had ever heard him utter. : What is necessary to complete the story? Of course, they were married, and as soon as he was rich enough to have a capitalized interest to protect, John bought his way into the Senate, The next autumn the country passed through the most in- tensely exciting election ever known in its history. The friends of both the Democratic and Republican candidates claimed the victory by a microscopic majority. Congress was in session, and John had resolved to make the greatest speech of his life. For this purpose he had diligently studied the Patent Office Reports and Mrs. Hayes’s cook-book. Joe sat in the gallery of the Senate, and when John rose to his feet it was so quiet that a pin, which she carelessly drop- ped, crashed to the floor with a clang that reverberated to the dome of the Capitol. “MR, PRESIDENT,” John began, “ in the present contest, political passion has been roused to the fiercest pitch by the | antagonism of parties, but the result shows that he is undoubt- | edly elected —” | patch. At this moment a Senator interrupted him to read a des- It ran: “ Official—According to Associated Press reports, New York is Democratic by 1,241 plurality. Jay Gould has ‘tele- graphed his congratulations to the President-elect.” “MR. PRESIDENT. The wedding went off brilliantly, although the day was frightfully hot and the dust was terrific, and, oh ! joy of joys ! John Gassington was there. After some trouble, Joe decoyed him into an old summer- | house at the end of the garden, and they adopted their for- mer conversational tactics. Joe said that Boston was com- mon, especially its pnncipal public square, and that there was no happiness in this world like getting married and re- | ceiving seven cake-baskets and twelve duplicate pickle forks ¢ And once again John was thankful that he had been am- biguous. CARLSBAD. OPERA. HAT with Mr. High-Private Mapleson at the Academy, and Hair Damrosch, as he is most appropriately termed, at the Metropolitan Opera House, the air is loaded with music, although it is to be doubted if the music is as heavily laden with airs. The German opera may be set down as the most success- ful, as it is more novel in New York, and New Yorkers are fonder of anything that is spick and span, than if it had | grown gray in the service, as have most of Mr. Mapleson’s operas. Furthermore, the Metropolitan is big, the company is big, the expense is big—all bigger than the poor little Italian affair in Fourteenth Street, and if there is one thing the American public do dote on, it is something big. Just wait until some | one builds a roof over the Central Park, and gives there a new opera written in Russian, with a troupe of Siberian exiles. Then will Mr. Mapleson have his revenge, and Hair Damrosch will go down into obscurity. comicbooks.com