Life — December 3, 1885 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

DO not like the game at ad/, And fail to see the fun Of rushing madly round and round For hours upon a tennis ground Beneath a July sun, | played it once, because I heard ‘T was such a “ perfect" game; What happened I can scarcely say— I only know that since that day I've never felt the same. Scene: Lobby of the Metropolitan Opera House. Time: Yesterday afternoon. Herr Seidl discovered reading some slips, from which the head-lines have been dex- terously remover irector Damrosch, leaning over Herr Seidl’s chair, regards him with a Teutonic and oleaginous smile. Setdl: Damrosch, old knabe, 1 am delighted with this chaste, but sensational, literature with which you have pro- vided me. I have not yet finished reading it, but it is not untimely to say that I am charmed. What it is I cannot guess. There is all the morbid beauty of a police gazette; the dainty raciness of a family story paper mingled with the airy triviality of a penny dreadful. It is attractive—most at- tractive. Damrosch : You will never guess what it is, my beloved conductor. Seidl: 1 don’t believe I ever shall, though Iam acquainted with the literature of all countries. (Reading.) ‘“ Outside the house was one crush of carriages, within it was a crush of | magnificent toilets. The first ball hit me very hard Before I ‘d time to move,— And no one seemed to care at all Except because | ‘d stopped the ball And made “ fifteen to love”! And then they laughed across the net And served a “gentle ball,” At which I struck with all my might And sent it flying out of sight Behind a neighboring wall. My partner was a Harvard lad With whom I'd had some fun, But as the games went on, he eyed The girl upon the other side As if she'd been the one, And so we played for what seemed hours Across that dazzling net, Until at last I overheard My partner breathe a wicked word, Because we ‘d “lost the set !” Of course, for those who brave the sun Prepared to pay the price ; And rush about with tumbled hair, And /:ke to hear men curse and swear— It may be very nice. Now, I should say that this forcible passage related to the residence of some European magnate, such as the Duke of Westminster, or perhaps Lady Brassey, where a reception is being held, I presume. (Reading.) “ The innumerable gas jets revealed in no unbecoming colors a living reality of fair women.” That is the airy triviality of the penny dreadful which tries to be Byronic and Ouida- esque and fails wofully. Still our finest authors are not perfect. There are flaws in every one except the successful candidate of a political party. (Reading.) “ Many a Katisha availed herself of the occasion to display a wealth of charms whose very existence heretofore has only been imagined.” Damrosch: He! He! Setdl: That passage is positively indecent. Your An- thony Comstock ought to suppress such statements. Ladies do wear very décollété dresses at present; but the fact should never be alluded to in such unblushing terms as those I have just read. (Continuing.) “The most bewitching dacarré costumes were everywhere visible.” I have vainly endeav- ored to ascertain what dacarré means. I lived for four years in Paris, and never heard the expression. If it is written for French, it isn’t French, I'm quite sure. The author prob- ably meant drsarre. (Reading.) “ The bustle, excitement, merry laughter, and chatter told how pleasant was the reali- zation.” That is sweetly pretty, but not original, is it? | “Merry laughter” has become slightly hackneyed in the pro- cess of the suns; “the bustle” has entered too far into the | vocabulary of.the female wardrobe to act satisfactorily in comicbooks.com