Life — March 7, 1901 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

A Ballade of Red-heeled Shoes. HEY flit, a noiseless cavaleade, Through bygone times, in brave array, Ry many a stately dame displayed Who loved the world of yesterday ; When spinets trilled the plaintive lay Of saraband or pavan slow, They ground a myriad hearts to clay— The red-hceled shoes of long ago. Deft fancies summoned to their aid A broidered wreath or ribbon stay ; Perchance a buckle carved of jade Whereon an armored love might pray— For lightest whims their charms portray And frailest fashionings bestow, That subtle magic they should sway— ‘The red-heeled shoes of long ago. ‘What wonder, then, that undismayed They danced on Cupid's wreaths of bay, And sternest doubters could persuade That life might turn from grave to gay ? Like faint, sweet promises of May ‘They trod the years, and weal or woe ‘Twas subject to their witching way— The red-heeled shoes of long ago. ENvoY. Long gone their wearers—where are they ? And only quaint traditions show, In old romances or the play— The red-heeled shoes of long ago. Charlotte Becker. A BIZONA dispatches announce that Mr. Joseph Mul- hatton, a writer well known for the picturesque inaccuracy of his news-stories, is about to be discharged from the Arizona insane asylum, While Mr. Mulhatton will be welcomed back to the world, it can truthfully be said that he has not been much missed. His brother fakirs have ably maintained the reputation which he did somuch to create. Still there will be some regret that he was not turned loose in time to deal with Colone) Roosevelt’s hunting trip. periment of the previous war. DITOR LIFE—Dear Sin: I have at last joined the array of “kickers” that doubtless besieges your stronghold. It has scemed to me that for some months England and the English have come in for a dieproportionate amount of acrimonious criticism in your columns. The Noer war is a poor business, but to abandon it would be to repeat Mr. Gladstone's disastrous ex- T have voiced my sentiments in the enclosure. Yours truly, Manistee, Micu., Fes. 6, 1901. EJ. “Mello, Lire!" “ How do you do, sift To whom have I the honor of speaking?” “My name ts Legion." “Hm English by your accent !** ° “Yes, that fa my greatest distinction. Wy the way, Live, you have been giving my countrymen some pretty ‘hard knocks’ lately."" “Well! They deserve them 1”? “M'yes, tna measure they do, but as yet we haven't acquired the babit of lynching our own citizens, don't you know.” “No, but the Boers——"* “Ab, yea! The Boera! Poor fellows! 1'm afraid they will disappear 4s fast as the American Indians." “ But sa “Any news from the Pnilippines this morning? No? Too bad! Those miserable niggers, Who are fighting for home and thelr own land, ought to be exterminated. It’s a slow process, though, for they are equipped with such terribly-etfective weapons, If you can't lick them in three years, don't be discouraged. Your Santiago heroes, who ‘done up’ the armies of mighty Spain, will——* * Good morning. Mr. Legion, I am rery basy.” “ Good morning, Livz1 A prominent Scotchman once wrote : “+Oh, wad some pow'r the gifte gle us To see oursels as Ithers see us'!"* THE EVOLUTION OF THE BHITIN OFFICER.