Life — August 20, 1885 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

104 After Synagogue on Saturdays the drive is crowded with very stylish turnouts, and the walks alongside are thronged with promenaders. There was considerable excitement on the Plaza last Saturday morning as a gentleman with -ari aquiline nose was found to have penetrated these sacred precincts. He was very roughly handled, and given twenty- four hours to get out of town, twenty-three of which were knocked off by the Judge to give the prisoner all the benefits of a trade discount. The SAUNTERER was dined on Saturday evening by the Hon. Abraham Levi, at his residence on the Beach. The dinner was most charming indeed, although the caterer, a man from New York, and not a very devout Jew, committed a very grave mistake. Chicken sandwiches had been ordered, but on the way down they were mixed in with the banquet of a Gentile Pic-nic bound for Asbury Park, and when served at the Levi dinner were ham pure and simple, and Mrs. Levi fainted on the spot. The after-dinner speeches at the dinner were capital—Mr. Isaacs responding for “ Beeznis ” in his happiest vein. A novel entertainment at the East End is an Auction Sale of Damaged Goods, done up in parcels, which are knocked down to the lowest bidder. Considerable merriment was aroused by the aged Mr. Kingsheimer, who bid in the Sea Serpent unwittingly for a cent a thousand. Mr. Kingsheimer was inclined to be indignant at first, because after paying his cent and getting an order for one sea serpent, he could n’t get his change back, and remarked that “he woultent mint de oudlay oof dot mooch gapital oof de Serpind vas oony tamaged. Put to py in an artigle dot effery poty knows is pogus ant not chenuvine, it vas a oudraitchus svindle.” A law suit has grown out of a bather’s accident and a subsequent bet. A gentleman from Boston got beyond his depth in swimming last week, and Mr. Solomons and Mr. Isaacs, who were standing on the beach, made a bet of five dollars, the one that he would drown and the other that he would not. Mr. Solomons based his bet on the ground that, a Bostonian never really gets beyond his depth and Mr. Isaacs feeling assured by the man’s struggles that he was near the end. Mr. Moses held the stakes. The Bostonian’s cries attracted the attention of the life savers and he was rescued, whereupon Mr. Moses paid the ten dollars to Mr. Solomons. Mr. Isaacs has brought suit against the life savers for damages, and has worked up quite a virtuous indignation against them in the community for their interference. Your correspondent, at the urgent solicitation of the Board of Vestrymen of Asbury Park, is to spend a day in those delightful precincts next week, and to tide him over the twenty-four hours there has laid out a round of enjoyment, with a party of friends, for the next few days such as will incapacitate him for any more work this week. Mr. Koppenheim, the famous bankrupt, reached here last evening and was féted and congratulated by his friends on his settlement with his creditors for two cents on the dollar. He has managed to save three millions from the wreck and will settle here in his newly purchased villa. Cholmondeley Harcourt. “LITRE * IN SUMMER. qe twilight deepened into gloom, A slender moon slipped up the sky, And thro’ the threads of swinging bloom Peered down into the silent room, Where we two loitered—she and I. Lightly the breeze blew in and stirred The red-gold tangles of her hair, And in the distant copse we heard The cry of some belated bird, Blown softly out upon the air. Some spell was on us, strange and sweet, Too strange for words, too sweet for tears, Our trembling glances dared not meet, For in our heart there throbbed and beat A sudden host of hopes and fears. And so we sat, apart, alone, With cheeks that burned we knew not why, Nor guessed that as the hour flew on A flash of wings had come and gone, And Love himself had passed us by. A NOVEL OF THE OLD SCHOOL. T is nearly thirty years since John Esten Cooke wrote “The Virginia Comedians,” and he still delights us with tales, sketches and historical work. His quaint and beautiful, half-imaginary narrative of “ My Lady Pokahontas,” and his picturesque and instructive history of “ Virginia,” in the Commonwealth Series, will be recalled as recent examples of his industry and skill. That his constructive powers have not declined is shown by his latest novel, “ The Maurice Mystery,” (D. Appleton & Co.). Here is a story of the good old kind—a tangled plot, murder, intrigue, revenge, the triumph of justice, an un- expected denouement and marriage bells. With all this it is not a disagreeably sensational book, not unhealthy or inar- tistic, but very entertaining. * * * N reading the modern novel you are never seized with the uncontrollable desire to peep at the closing pages and relieve your excited curiosity. Our cool-headed anatomists never employ such inelegant methods. “The Maurice Mystery” is, however, of the earlier school, and many a wearied man will frankly admit that he is glad of it; that he feels a score of years younger, while his heart is beating excitedly over the unsolved mystery, and that the days of his youth come back to him with the improbable imaginings of pure romance. comicbooks.com