The Liberal, Volume I, Number 38, 14 January 1893 — SELECTED. [ARTICLE]
SELECTED.
THE WORLD.
The world is well lost when the world is wrong, No matter how men deride you For if you are patient and firm and strong You will and in time (though the time be long) the world wheels beside you If you dare to sail first o'er a new-thought track, For awhile it will scourge and scourge you Then, coming abreast with a skillful lack It will clasp your hand and slap your back And vow it was there before yon. Aye, many an error the old world makes, And many a sleepy blonder, But ever and always at last it wakes, With pitiless scorn for another's mistakes And the fools who have followed go under. The world means well; though it wander and stray From a straight, abort out to duty So go ahead in the path, I say, For after awhile it will come your way, Bringing its pleasure and beauty.
Full of "E'a." The following paragraph, now going the rounds, contains fiftyseven words, 112 e's and no other vowel: "We feel extreme feebleness when we seek perfect excellence here. We well remember men every where err. Even when Eden's evergreen trees sheltered Eve the serpent crept there. Yet, when tempted, when cheerlessness depresses, when helplesness fetters, when we seem deserted - then we remember Bethlehem, we beseech the Redeemer's help. We ever need the rest the blessed expect."
"I've hit open a great scheme," said the editor; "I nearly doubled our circulation yesterday," "How did you work-it?" "See that steel stamp? Well, I just cut out a paragraph in that local column of the whole edition." "How did that help the circulation?" Every woman in town bough an extra copy to see what had been clipped." An enfant terrible, created a sensation at a wedding in this city one evening last week. One of the ladies present was dressed in a very decollette costume, which left very little to the imagination. In the course of the evening she began to pay some attention to a miss of four or five summers. The younster gazed at the display of feminine charms with wide-eyed dismay, not unmixed with pity. Vague recollections of her nursing days evidently came to her mind, and finally, without paying the slightest attention to what the undressed woman was saying to her, the little tot said: "Poor lady, ain't you got any more clothes at home?" The blush that followed reached clear to the woman's waist band. Tornado Tom - He was tough, but his heart was in the right place. Blizzard Bill - That so? Tornado Tom—Yes. I shot for the plaee where it ought to be, and by gum, lt was right there. The Latest Fad. Ella —Ēverybody one meets nowadays has a mania for collecting something or other. Daisy—That's so. What do you suppose Lucy Fosdick is collecting? Ella—I'm sue I don't know. What? Daisy —Engagement rings. A Permanent Color Codling—-I expect to live to a gween old age—aw. Miss Darley— Yes, I couldn't imagine you in any other. A Lesson in Manners Chappie—lf you want to have an ' air of distinction, you must look a little tired. Clara —Oh, that's easy. while i'm with you Cholly (who has it bad)-Do you know a cure for love ? Jack— Yes; sure and speedy! Colly - Good heavens! What? Jack - Marry!
True wives are not appreciated by their husbands, is the plaint of a young matron of our upper ten. Fond of admiration, she received the attention of a number of young bachelors of the class who dangle in the retinues of married women because their exchequer will not permit them to get near the maidens who are angling for fat financial catches. One of the boldest went a trifle too far for the matron, who, in justice be it said, was and is as true as steel. She therefore in a sudden access of wifely confidence flung herself upon her husband's bosom, buried her face on his shoulder, and told him all. To her surprise he did not cast her from him, rush for his revolver, and go forth to slay the base
wretch who had dared to try sully his wife's purity. She was all too ready to throw herself at his feet, clasp his knees, and bid him take her worthless life rather than risk his own. But the tempest of passion would not rage a cents worth. The cold-blooded monster only murmured in a tone: "Are you quite sure that you did not give him the least encouragement; that you repelled his meaning glances and the pressure of his hand with withering scorn?" She was forced to own up that on account of her lack of experience she might have mistaken the courtesy due her sex for what was prompted by a vile
"Were all men salacious brutes?" "No," he said; "but when a married woman repels a man as only a chaste-minded and true woman can repel him, he experiences a tumble, from which never rises in the presence of the same women, even, should be left a widow, and he still unmarried." "You seem to know all about it?" responded she interrogratively. "Yes, I have been there myself." "You wretch!" She shrieked, "who was the woman?" "Never mind that. Her name is as sacred to me as yours will be to the first man who gives you the opportunity of withering him with your scorn." That is why the young matron is sure of herself for the next time, and she told the wife of my informant that she is "on the lookout for a man to wither." Will any of my male readers "oblige a lady." THE SOCIETY REPORTER.,
A Doubtful Cause for Pride Priscella - She looks as proud as if the whole world were under her feet. Prunella - Well, a good part of it is. She is from Chicago. Mr Merrywit (at Christmas din-) ner) - This turkey appears to be cooked a la opera. Mrs. Merrywit -What do you mean? Mr. Merrywit - Why, without dressing. Rowley - Friends? I don't believe in them. Why, my best friend ran away with my wife! Minkey (weeping) - Gad! If I only had such a friend! Jack A. Napes - Miss Brisk is a doocedly wupid girl, don't ye know! The other day her papa gave her fifty dollars and cautioned her to spend the money carefully, so that she might have something to show for a rainy day, What do you think she bought Umbwellas Jack A. Napes - Naw Silk stockins. Mr. Shaylate - Yes Miss Genevieve I have been hunting for lodgings all the week. Miss Genevieve - You seem to have found them at last Mr. Staylate.