Life — August 16, 1888 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

NEWPORT NOTES. n AvousT 13, 1888, £ PETTER prospects are opening and things in general seem at last to be waking up a bit. One or two dinners and private en- tertainments have served to remind us that the grave is not our goal—that is, for the present, and quite a number of new turnouts have appeared upon the avenue, although I grieve to be obliged to state that the occupants of said turnouts are nearly all strangers, stolid and portly, with “Chicago” written all over them in big letters, and when they meet an old resident they always give him a stare that as much as says: ‘Why! what- ever are you doing here, you little cuss 2” Even the last dance at the Casino was quite well attended and did not suggest the burial service quite as vividly as usual; in fact things were so jolly that even I got into the spirit of it and tried to waltz, but on attempting to reverse my cork leg turned half way around and I had to stop and sidle away, and some vile wretch had the poor taste to call me a crab. Speaking of crabs reminds me that you ought to see my new horse ; he is jet black with a snow white muzzle and looks as though he had been on the point of shaving himself but was called away before he had time to wipe the soap off his face. 1 tried a coat of shoe-blacking on it and thought I had conquered the difficulty, but the brute rubbed his nose against the groom's face while they were waiting in front of the club, and the dear chappies haven't got through laughing at it yet. Everything seems to be going wrong with meat present. Among other things I've just been refused again, and I am taking the matter very much to heart, It isstrange that I don’t get more used to being refused considering the number of years I've been at it, but the pres- ent case I must confess was rather exceptional for she had given me no end of encouragement, in fact she had even gone so far as to name her dog after me and I couldn't help feeling that that was very pointed ; to be sure the dog was a nasty little wretch no larger thana wharf rat, and so covered with long shaggy hair that you couldn't tell his head from histail and never knew which end of him was going to bite you, and he was forever reminding me of the story of the boy whose trousers were just as full in front as they were behind, so that a little way off you couldn't tell whether he was going to school or coming home. But to return. Considering the amount of encour- agement she had given me, I was—as you can readily imagine—tre- mendously taken aback when on that fatal night she drew herself up and sternly said, ‘No, it can never be! Never! For a man who can tie a large toy balloon to my poor little dog’s tail, and then with a perfectly smooth face watch the poor little beast as he follows me up the crowded avenue with only one end of him on the ground—such a man, I say, isa villain and a hypocrite, and I can never be to him more than a distant acquaintance.” That seemed to settle the matter and so I left. I am rather grateful to her, however, for not offering to be a sister to me, as I am rather “long” on that kind of sister. Sisters are a poor thing anyway, they know all your weaknesses and don’t appreciate your good qualities, and as I said before, I pass. 1 got square with the dog for nipping my heels, however, and on second thought it strikes me that the dog got square with me, too. Never mind, I'll put a porous plaster over my heart and pull through all right; so don’t worry about me. RK. -LIFE: A CORRECT DICTUM. Jones: WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH Yo Carvey? Charley: Ve just SHAVED. Jones: Wi WHO HACKED YOU IN THAT Way MUST BE ONE OF THE BIGGEST FOOLS ON EARTH. Charley (earnestly): He. 18, Jones—He 18; 1 suaven UR FACE, MYSELF, A DREAM OF BLISS. THE BOOK AGENT'S VISION OF A STATE OF FUTURE BEATITUDE. comicbooks.com