Life — June 24, 1886 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

356 “Yes, I'm well enough, Carlyle, but I’m the worst disappointed Infant you ever saw. The idea of being born King of Spain when I might have been a New York Alderman in time, if my folks had had tact enough to emigrate, is sickening. “1 see you have been appointed Colonel of an Austrian regiment. You 're going it while-you're young, I notice.” “Yes,” returned the King, ‘that ’s just a sample of the Jeffer- sonian simplicity I have to deal with. The idea of making me a Field Marshal of Spain and a Colonel of a regiment, and still worse, ordering a review of my troops in two weeks. Here I 've got to command my regiment at the next review and instead of going on an Arabian steed as my ex-father did, I'm to prance around in a baby jumper, dressed up in an embroidered crash towel because they can't get my uniform done in time, Bah, who ’d be a King of Spain at my age !” “No man living now,” said,I. ‘You 're the uniquest arrangement in the way of a potentate I ever came across.” “Ah, well, such is life,” sighed the King, grabbing at the Chum's watch chain. ** Still this business has its compensations. 1 can make Dukes by the cart load, and I've half a mind to begin with you. How would you like being Don Smith, the Duke of New York.” “Oh, I do n't care about it, Phonsy ; much obliged allee samee."” “ Ha-ha,” laughed the King. ‘‘I imagine then that either you are a privileged acquaintance of Cyrus W. Field or you do n't care for his society.” “Why do you say that?" I inquired, rather interested that so young a scion of royalty and nobility should know of our celebrated entertainer. “Oh, your not wanting to be a Duke shows that you can get all the dinners you want out of C. W. on your merits, or that you don't like the style of table d’hétes he sets. As for myself it isn’t generally known that when I had reached my fourth hour Mr. Field cabled an invitation for me to dine with him, The funny part of the whole busi- ness was that, owing toa difference between times in New York and Spain, the telegram was dated the day before my birthday, I accepted Mr. Field's kind invitation as best I could, by having the bill for two quarts of milk sent to the New York Afat/ and Express, that being the only address I knew of.” ‘At this point of the interview the Secretary of the Nursery came along and His Majesty, and, after expressing an earnest desire to see me again, set up a wail that convinced me the audience was over, After an enjoyable bull-fight, given in my honor, I was escorted to the Pyrennes by the King’s Guard, and that night I climbed over into France. Carlyle Smith, FARM BALLAD. E laid down his ev'ning paper And sought the cellar damp. On his right he bore the coal-hod, And on his left a lamp. And his head smote ‘gainst the glue-pot Hung from the chamber stair ; Anda bunch of dusty catmint Fell down upon his hair; And his arm dislodged a stew-pan That hung upon the wall, And its handle bruised his-eyebrow, And broke the lamp in its fall. When he could not find the shovel, Methought I heard him sing, As he scooped with his hands the coal up, “+O, death, where is thy sting ?’” Isabel Freeland. - LIFE: STRANGER THAN FICTION. IF MY FATHER HAD N'T DIED BACK IN '36 HE'D ‘D AN FOUR THIS COMMIN’ SPRING. ! HOW COME A MAN OF SICH VITALITY TER DIE? LEMME SE! D F the French Government decides to expel all the pre- tenders to the throne, there won't be enough natives left in France to make a guorum. T is sheer more-bidness that induces a virtuoso to run up the prices of pictures at an art sale. AN OPEN LETTER TO ONE OF OUR GIRLS. Dear Jean: HE Editor of Lire has handed to me, as a venerable bachelor capable of giving advice unmixed with sentiment, your note ask- ing for a list of books suitable for ** good, light, summer reading.” 1 am delighted that you frankly qualified the subject with all three of those adjectives, It assures me that you are not a blue-stocking bent on ‘improving your mind” or “disciplining your faculties” during the season of rest and recreation, You do not want a “course of reading "—that detestable regimen for intellectual dyspepsia. As I understand it, dear Jean, you want to be pleasantly amused in the intervals of your flirtations. You want books to mirror and intensify the varied emotions which flit about love-making in summer. ‘When Clarence has been neglectful you would read something to make you gloomy, if such a thing were possible to a nature so sunshiny as yours, When Fred has been ardent you would read something to make you satirical and repellent, so that he may be spared a heartache. And when your own heart has been touched, against your will, dear Jean, you would have a book to make you forget that ‘tis love that makes the world go ‘round, comicbooks.com