Life — August 23, 1888 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

- LIFE: VACATION LETTERS. BeTHLEHEM, WHITE MouNTaINs, August’20. EAR MR, EDITOR,—I am grieved to be obliged to tell you that she refused me; but we still have the same washerwoman, and there is a deal of comfort in the thought. Nevertheless, it was rather embarrassing meeting her all the time, and so I left Newport and came here, where I could be sure of meeting no one that I know, and where bills would not be likely to reach me. It is about as lively here as an unoccupied grave. The barber has informed me that I am the only man in the place besides himself, and hinted broadly that he would not object to my custom ; but when he discovered that I was stone bald and also shaved myself, he went and took down his sign, This place consists of a single streak of boarding-houses situated among the hills upon a small plateau, although at present there is more plat than eau on account of the drought. I seldom joke in French, so please excuse this. The air here is very dry, in fact every- thing is very dry except the champagne and the fog which rises at night and which nobody seems to mind, it’s so English, I suppose. The only apparent attractions here consist of seven miles of plank- walk and unlimited pie; this constitutes the American idea of Par- adise. There does not seem to be much of anything to do except lay around like an unbound back number and enjoy plenty of elegant leisure, of which there is a most liberal supply—in fact, the supply is more than equal to the demand, as the man said when he was pre- sented with twins, ORSE than all, the place seems to be inhabited solely by elderly ladies with very young children, and on account of the latter sleep is out of the ques- tion. One of the brats in question LIFE AT MT. DESERT. waved his arms and cooed at me to such an extent on my arrival that his nurse had to quiet it by saying BEFORE? “That's not Grandpa! that's She: ONLY ONCE THIS SUMMER. ~Tnot Grandpa!” Dear me! He: WHAT? AND HERE IT 1S THE LAST OF AucusT! Grandpa! What next I won- der? All the old ladies seem to = = be in a very lachrymose con- dition; at first I thought Rachel was engaged in weeping for or rather with her chil- dren, but later I found that they were enjoying hay-fever. Hay-fever is the specialty of this place; you come here to get it, or get rid of it, I have been unable to find out which, but I am glad to know there is some reason for coming here. Iam very sorry to say that I have never gone in for religion to any great extent, partly because there is no money in it and partly because it is not fashionable ; but even such a callous person as myself cannot but feel awestricken at finding themselves in Bethlehem, the identical spot where Christianity first dawned, As I had nothing else to do I endeavored to find some of the places mentioned in sacred history, but was surprised to find that all landmarks had been oblit- erated and not a stone or a monument of any kind marks any of the hallowed spots! I am so surprised and shocked at this that I must stop writing; moreover, somebody's Skye terrier has got his head through the piazza railings and cannot get it back again ; and as I am the only man about, I suppose I must go and try to pry him out. So good-bye for the present. He (who has just been accepted): WERE YOU EVER ENGAGED She: But I ONLY CAME LAST WEEK. Roland King. PROPHETS OF EVIL—The wages of sin. A SUMMER LUXURY. —__—_ “WHAT DO YOU KEEP THAT SHIVERING LITTLE KEGGAK OF A HE man who supplied the Inquisition with machinery poo ror?” was the original rack-renter. “WHY, DEAH BOY, IT MAKES ME COOL TO LOOK AT HIM.” comicbooks.com