Life — August 9, 1888 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

- LIFE: 71 NEWPORT NOTES. AvuGust 6, 1888, EXPECT to be murdered for saying it, but candor compels me to confess that things are deadly “dull here at present. Everybody seems to have either gone abroad or died—or both; and, in addi- tion, something appears to have gone wrong with the climate; either the firemen and engineers have struck, or the Gulf Stream has got into bad company and been led astray ; at all events, summer has failed to connect, and us dear chap- pies go chattering around in our new thin clothes, and try to sit out on the piazza with our coats unbuttoned to show our fancy waistcoats, until we sneeze and turn so purple with the cold that we have to go inside and—well, it is really wonderful that when you try to warm up from inside what an awful amount of fuel is necessary to accomplish the object! And then there is the bathing. Ugh! Dear me! It's like em- bracing an iceberg or a Boston girl just to think of it! But then there are people who go in bathing; they must all be married men, however, who are so accustomed to having things made hot for them that they are grateful for anything cooling whatsoever. On account of my cork leg, I am unable to go into the surf, as it does not agree with the machinery of the leg, and, in addition, it would look odd and unconventional; but I am overjoyed to state that there is a cer- tain man—a man whom I should like to slowly torture to death— who does go down to the sea in a tired-looking bathing-suit, and when- ever it is possible, I take a certain young lady over to the beach to see him come out of the water, blue and chattering, his hair in his eyes, and looking generally like a Prussian eagle that had slept out in a swamp! And then the certain young lady laughs a delicious little laugh that thrills me down to the tips of my cork leg, and I know I have scored a point against my hated rival. ’Rah! To any one who is weary of this world and longing for rest and profound quiet, let me recommend the Newport Casino. In this charming enclosure, he will find the solitude and silence of the grave, unbroken, save by the faint echoes of the orchestra that, for some unknown reason, plays softly to itself of mornings. To be sure, there were one or two men who played tennis there once upon atime, but they doubtless felt that they were trifling in the presence of death and eternity, and in all probability they will never so offend again, There is some talk of making the Casino into a convent, but where the necessary supply of nuns is to come from, nobody seems toknow, for, surely, the average American girl could not be depended upon to fill the gap, and, in addition, she would make the rummiest kind of nun imaginable! At the old club, however, things are very jolly indeed; the club- house has been renovated inside and out, and is so cheerful and pleasant that us dear chappies pretty much live there. The hardiest of us sit out on the piazza and watch the dear girls go by, and as soon as the dear girls catch sight of the club, they lower their para- sols and look straight ahead with a stony, oblivious glare, but the first one of them you meet will be sure to ask, ‘* Who was that nice- looking fellow you were sitting with on the club piazza?” Now, how do they do it, I wonder? And so the days glide by as though eternity was side-tracked, and, when evening comes, the dear chappies play pool for—that is, play pool—and, later on, help one another home. We all know the policeman personally, and they never interfere with us (and it is an awfully good thing to know policemen—policemen and rich girls) ; and so, as there are no sewers being built in our part of the town, we manage to get home as nicely as you please. Good-night, dear! RK. OUR AUGUST WEATHER. A BOSTONIAN has the effrontery to tell us that New York is much hotter in summer than the Hub, A statement of this kind merely shows how unfamiliar they are up there with our biting August winds. It was only three days ago that we heard the following conversation between two citizens as they were crossing the Park: 1 see by the paper the heat has been in- tense all over the country to-day. SECOND CITIZEN: Yes, and I heard the hot wave from Boston was about due, and I put on a linen suit this morn- ing. I regret it, as my pockets are full of snow, and the suit is ruined. HILADELPHIAN (fo Mr, Childs): Your paper was very interesting this morning, Mr. Childs. Mr. CHILDS: Hey, what's that— interesting ? PHILADELPHIAN: Yes, sit. Mr, CHILDS (making a note, with as much slernness as he ts capable of): Vl speak to the managing editor about it. AN EXCITING MOMENT. “Ye see it wuz like dis: It wuz de nint’ innings an’ each side wuz thirty-two runs. Jimmy wuz at de bat. He got onter Reddy’s curve an’ hit der ball a welt out ter centre-field. Tommy Scully giv’a jump fer it, but it went t'rough his fingers an’ we winned de game.” comicbooks.com