Life — August 12, 1886 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

HE Galatea, having arrived safely a week ago, the prophets of the daily press have broken forth anew. The funniest criticism I have read was that of an afternoon paper to the effect that the steel cutter is a good trailer, be- cause she took over :thirty days to cross the ocean, That period used to be considered a good passage for the old sailing packets, and only last summer, when the Genesta came over in twenty-four days, every one was saying that she was a flyer and that the Purztan would have to hurry up to beat her. The fact is, that the Ga/atea came over rigged to go slowly, and she did it beautifully. When she gets up her “white wings,” that “never grow weary,” she will show a different sort of speed. Her record shows that she is quite as good a boat as the Genesta. * * * 6“ HE Mayflower that blooms in the Hub, tra la, has nothing to do with the race,” sang an enthusiastic Puritan the other day. Verily, I was exceeding glad to hear it. But, as the Spaniards sometimes remark, “ Quien sabe ?” * * * IPPINCOTT’S Magazine has some remarks on base- ball, by Johnny Ward, and some on athletics, by L. E. Myers. People who are fond of making jokes about the college men who study baseball at our universities should read the article of the New York short-stop. They will find that as a writer he makes a better record than L. E. Myers. The Editor of Lippzncott’s ought now to have an article en- titled, “ How I came to break Myers’s record,” by Wendel Baker ; and “ How I beat the Stiletto out of a cup,” by Jay Gould. * * * T is now announced that Hanlan and Courtney will row arace. This is the most alarming statement that has appeared in print for months. If these two champions ever should meet in a race there will be a convulsion of nature worse than what might be expected if the King of the Dudes should knock out Dempsey. If Courtney starts he will prob- ably die of heart disease, brought on by the unusual excite- ment. Tricotrin. ECHOES FROM BAR HARBOR. D™8 MR. EDITOR—This place strikes one as being sort of a cross between Corsica and Narragansett Pier. It seems to consist almost entirely of girls, hotels, and buck- boards ; and, by the way, how like human life a buckboard is !—long, narrow and full of jounces! To a certain extent the same might be said of the girls and the hotels, and perhaps it would be safest to keep this to ourselves. The air, however, is very fine, and it is fortunate that it is, -LIFE-: for it is all that one has to live on at the hotels. Twenty-five dollars a week for wind seems rather high, but then we must have it, and as it always blows half a gale here I sup- pose it can’t help being high. The first thing to do on arriving is, of course, to look up one’s friends, but when that is accomplished one rather comes to a standstill, for the water is too cold to bathe in; you can’t play tennis, for the small boys who practice all day long will beat you too badly; and you can’t go sailing, be- cause the girls won’t let you go without them, and if you take them along they will be sea-sick, and I thank Heaven for it, for if it was n’t the girls it would be me, and the scorn with which a sea-sick man is regarded is simply unbearable. You can rob a bank or elope with a whole Sunday School and live down the ensuing disgrace, but the contempt felt for a sea-sick man endureth for ever and ever, and so I always prefer to do my yachting in a quiet and well-behaved horse-car. The girls are all here, however, every blessed one of them, and there must be a girl famine in the rest of the land. As for the men—well, the men were all killed in the war, and I’m glad of it. But—ah me !—all my old flames have turned up here, as well as all the girls who ever refused me; I never realized before what a lot of them there were, and to stroll out of an afternoon and meet them one after another is really too charming for anything! The queer part of it is, however, that those of them who have got married don’t remember me at all, while those who have failed to find any one worthy of them are awfully glad to see me. It’s very odd, and I don’t quite understand it. I have decided to go in for brunettes this season; the blondes have always been too many for me; and when I look back over the past fift—I mean the past few years— and realize how they have nearly been the death of me, I feel as though my remains ought to turn over a new leaf, and so, as I said before, I am going to lay for brunettes. Speaking of brunettes reminds me that I have just been introduced to Her, and she is simply divine; so sweet and soothing, and her figure—goodness! I have to lay down my type-writer and gasp when I think of it! And, more- over, she seems to understand and appreciate me, a thing that nobody ever did before, and she says I am so thought- ful and sympathetic ! * * * * * * * Since writing the above I have discovered that she has got a young man—got him nearly landed, and has been using me as a counter-irritant to hurry matters up and bring him to a head! Just my luck! This is the way it has always been! I never loved a dear gazelle but what some other fellow had a first mortgage on the property and I got left! And oh I do so hate to be used as a moral porous plaster ! O dear, O dear! It’s too bad, too bad! I feel too ill to write any more now, so will keep the rest for another letter. RK. THE NEW “THIRTEEN PUZZLE "—Baby-king Alphonso of Spain. comicbooks.com