Whims Monthly (May, 1896)
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| ks) eh Price, 5 Cents. Sime. MONTHLY. MAY, 1896. THE WHIMS COMPANY, ee ‘ NEW YORK. Copyright, 1806, by The Whims Co.
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WHIMS— EuGENE EBLE, £Zattor. Published on the first day of the month at No. 150 Nassau Street, New York City. Subscription, Fifty Cents a year; Foreign Subscription, Seventy-five Cents; Postage pre- paid, The Trade is supplied by the American News Company and its Branches throughout the United States. Original Manuscripts in Poetry and Prose, containing from 100 to 2000 words, may be sub- mitted to the Publishers, Unavailable Manu- scripts will be returned to senders. The contents of ‘‘WHIMS”" are covered by a general copyright. Editors are invited to re- print whatever may be useful to them, but they are vequested to make proper acknowledgment therefor, Advertising rates will be furnished on appli- cation, THE WHIMS COMPANY, Room 1413, American Tract Soctety Bldg., New York.
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“Erclusive | § Tailoring —— BROSSEAU & JOSLIN, a 229 BROADWAY, NEW YORK. ; We desire to call particular attention to our | recent importation of English Worsted materials | | these goods are handled only by the most Ex- clusive Tailoring Establishments of London. TT TE TTT for dress suitings. With but one exception Every Progressive Musician or Ama- teur reads 7 THE American Art Journal, A Weekly Résumé of the Doings of the Musical World in Creative and Repro- ductive Art. | Issued every Saturday at 23 Unton Square, New York,
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BD mii that Weekly Journal for the Theatre-Goer, will send you a copy of the paper every week for one year for the cost of postage, 52 cents—just to make a friend of you. IT CONTAINS sixteen illustrated pages of comment on all the new plays, gossip with and about the actors and actresses ; Special Letters from London, Paris, New York, and Boston; a critical chronicle of the latest things in the book world, with illustrations of new posters and book illus- trations, and other features that makes it, as The London Minstrel says, ‘The only paper of its kind in America.”’ A Postal-Card brings a Sample Copy. Address FOOTLIGHTS, 10th and Chestnut Sts., Philadelphia.
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vo. WHIMS, © 04 THE POWER OF THE PRESS. HE had refused him. Coldly, cruelly turned him down. And he had been so hopeful ! He was the editor of a newspaper, and hope had been a necessity in his business. That and $2 per year, in advance—or words to that effect. ‘‘T know,” he fairly hissed at her when he realized she was not to be his’n, ‘‘I know why you have rejected my suit. You think yourself so beautiful that you can barter your personal pulchritude for a title.” The haughty beauty smiled unrelentingly. ‘‘And why not?” she responded lightly to his accusation. ‘‘AmI not beautiful? True, the world does not know of it yet, for I have shone only in the narrow sphere in which you move; but the time will come when all the deau monde shall acknowledge it and be at my feet.” He pawed the rich oriental rugs like a res- tive horse. = ‘‘You think thus to set my love aside, do you?” he said, with suppressed fury in his tone. ‘‘ You think, proud beauty, that you have mein your power. Aha! you little know whc you are dealing with.”
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110 THE POWER OF THE PRESS. a Notwithstanding he was an editor, his feel- ings were so intense that he neglected gram- matical rules in his language. This time she smiled in scorn. ‘*Oh, you threaten, do you?” she inquired, with infinite irony. ‘‘ Know, sir, that I fear you not. Do your worst!” He strode towards the half-open door and stopped on the threshold. ‘You have pronounced your own doom,” he said, turning to her. ‘‘ You who think when the world has seen your face it will worship your beauty and crown you Queen, I shall print your picture in our society columns to- morrow, and I shall do my worst, as you have asked. Aha!” It was a supreme moment. The editor gazed fixedly upon the fickle fair one and the color fled from her cheeks, for hers was no drug-store complexion. She returned his gaze, for she had no occa- sion to use it then, and, with a low moan of horror, the proud beauty came down off of her perch and acknowledged that the power of the press was illimitable. W. J. LAMPTON,
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AS THE RAIN COMES DOWN, Itt AS THE RAIN COMES DOWN. FALLING, ever falling, come the sparkling rain-drops down, And tiny streams are flowing thro’ the gutters of the town; Yet work must still be done By you and every ome; No need to be discouraged When the rain comes down. Fading, ever fading, all our hopes of fair renown, All vain the useless struggle for Fame’s gaudy tinsel crown; Yet gird ye to your work, - No man must play the shirk; Remember there is sunshine Tho’ the rain comes down. Dying, ever dying, fairest day-dreams pass away, : The heart is often breaking when the laugh is bright and gay; But where's the use of sorrow? The sun may show to-morrow, . And shine out bright With golden light, To cheer us om our way. PERCIE W. Hart.
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Iiz2 BY THE GRATE, BY THE GRATE. ' (A VILLANELLE. ) HE sits by the grate and sews; ’Tis an hour of dear delight— What her dream is no one knows, Ah, gray is the dull day’s close, But the flame-lit room is bright— She sits by the grate and sews. Lo, a sweet thought comes and goes, And she smiles all cares despite— What her dream is no one knows. The silent look she bestows None see, as, on silken white— She sits by the grate and sews.- At her breast a crimson rose Braves gayly the gloomy night— What her dream is no one knows. Each stitch shyly tender grows, And hides like some happy sprite. She sits by the grate and sews— What her dream is no one knows. ELLA A, GILES.
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LOVE VS. BURGLARY. II3 LOVE VS. BURGLARY. = [Ss that you ?”’ It was me, so I promptly said ‘‘ Yes,” although fully aware that I was not the per- son required. I am not in the habit of con- versing with youthful females over garden walls, not being of an amorous turn of mind, and having a decided objection to walls, as they frequently interfere with my business: but this time I was somewhat overcome by the fascinat- ing appearance of the girl sitting on the wall in the full white light of the moon’s silvery rays, while I stood back in the shade of a con- venient tree and feasted my eyes ae the beautiful vision. The place where this totally diieapeaed meeting occurred was a rustic lane just outsidé the stately residence of Lord Annerly, and as the town was some five miles distant, it seemed that the fair one had a very pressing appoint- ment with somebody. The lady appeared satisfied with the result of her inquiry, and presently a slender figure dropped lightly to the ground and stood beside me. Just then the moon became obscured by a kindly cloud, and I breathed more freely. ‘‘T would so like to see you,” she said, plaintively. I was not particularly desirous of being seen, so I made no reply, and she continued :
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IIt4 LOVE VS. BURGLARY. ‘*I did not expect you so soon, dear.” ‘‘When did you think I would arrive?” I inquired. ‘‘ Half - past ten,” she answered, quickly, ‘‘and I don’t believe it is ten yet.” ‘‘Well, I was impatient,” I replied, cau- tiously. ‘*How nice of you to say so, Aubrey! But what is the matter with you, darling?” ‘‘The matter with me!” I repeated, confu- sedly.” ‘Of course, don’t you know—you didn’t kiss me as you always do,” she faltered. I drew her to me and showered kisses upon her upturned face. Then the malicious moon shone out again, and I waited for the torrent of re- proaches that I knew discovery would bring upon me. But the expected outbreak failed to come. Instead she merely gazed at me with wide, mournful eyes, and whispered, softly, ‘Oh, if I could only see you, Aubrey!” Then it suddenly flashed upon me that Lord Annerly’s blind wife stood beside me. The sweet, low voice went on: ‘‘ But I am so glad that we met before I did go blind, dear. You remember when we learned to love each other? I can never forget our first waltz. How I hated Cecil that night !” (Cecil is the most noble Lord Annerly.) ‘‘ And yet, perhaps, if he had not been so cruel to me
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GEORGE T. PARDY. ~ IIs PEAT ONY ARAN FE OO EEE TOO! RE SBS PLS BEES SCRYERS RE RABE LOE, SEBO SEGA NLT OO ITE I might never have yielded and loved you, and we would not be going away together to-night.” I could scarcely repress an exclamation of surprise. To be expected to elope with a woman whom I had just met for the first time was quite enough to startle one, but when the lady in question belonged to one of the most aristocratic families in England, and was also the legal property of another man, it must be admitted that the contract was an unusually large one to carry out. ‘*T will go now,” she said, ‘‘ and here is the key of the entrance to the west wing of the house. You will find the other door open. Be sure you are here at twelve o’clock sharp, dar- ling, and take great care of my diamonds.” To this last request I gave a ready assent, for taking charge of valuables of any descrip- | tion is part of my peculiar profession; and as a matter of fact, it was solely with the intention of transferring the Annerly diamonds to my personal custody that I had taken this eventful trip. Therefore I kissed her fullred lips again, and ina few moments she had recrossed the wall and reached the inside of the enclosure, while I stood and wondered at the ease with which she wandered about alone. % * * x x When twelve o'clock struck my Lady Annerly was quietly slumbering, overpowered by a care-
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116. . MEMORIES. 3 RT RA MEP NRE OE LETS PE ARE SE OT I SIE RT BS TC IS, fully administered dose of chloroform, the dia- monds were safe in my possession, and a dis- appointed and thoroughly disgusted swain was walking uneasily up and down the lane, mar- velling greatly at the non-arrival of his lady- love. Also, the honor of the house of Annerly was saved, although I don’t ever expect to re- ceive Lord Annerly’s thanks for my efforts in his behalf. Indeed, it is hardly probable that he will ever know the true facts of the case. It may, perhaps, be said that I imposed shamefully upon the guilelessness of an unfort- unate female; but then, you see, when a man is a first-class burglar he must live up to his business, and occasionally deny himself the luxury of a conscience. Gro. T. PARDY. MEMORIES. A ND you were sleeping—blissful rest. Dreaming, yes, perchance of him Whom with a parting kiss you left ; A passing fancy—or a whim ! And as I looked upon you then, The image of a well-loved face Crept through my mem’ry’s vein— Then wander’d far off, into space. - Wortomar Hector H. Hume.
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RETURNED WITH THANKS, i357 RETURNED WITH THANKS. MY seven ships are on the sea Each laden with a song from me; And to the world’s great marts of trade > Where verse is bought and sold and weighed I send my precious treasure-fleet, My seven ships that plough the deep. The day they sailed was warm and bright, With not a single cloud in sight, And in my heart I said ‘‘ Good-by! My valiant ships, a long good-by !” How very mortified I’ll be If all my ships come back to me. Joun PuILo TROWBRIDGE. ONLY ONE MAN. = THE opposing forces met at on the 15th inst. The enemy were forced to retreat after a brief engagement, in which we lost only one man.”— Z7imes. / ‘“‘Extra! Extra!” ring the shrill voices of the newsboys. ‘‘’Nother vict’ry! Extra! Extra !”’ A young girl hurrying through the darken- ing street pauses a moment to catch the glad tidings; then, choosing the smallest of the ragged urchins who instantly gather about her,
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118 ONLY ONE MAN. she slips her pennies into his grimy hand and eagerly seizes a paper. Ten minutes more and she is flinging open | the door of a quiet room where a grave-eyed woman sits by the window, gazing out into the autumn twilight. ‘Quick, mother, a light !”” rings the impetu- ous young voice, ‘‘ I have news from the war. Another victory, and only one man lost!” A glad cry falls from the mother’s lips as she hurries to the table, and with trembling hand lights the small lamp. Both faces are eager, strained, as the younger woman reads rapidly the joyful news. ‘*Only one man lost—” she pauses, and the other exclaims, ‘‘ Thank God !” but the paper has slipped from the daughter’s hand, the joy has faded from her eyes, the color from her lips. Another instant and the sheet is inthe mother's hands. The sudden fear that clutches at her heart tells her the truth before her eyes fasten upon the fatal words—the name of the lost man. The clock ticks relentlessly in the corner, the fire dies out and the ruddy embers turn gray; the light of the little lamp sinks lower and lower, flickers, and is gone. Still the two women cling to one another in the darkness; the silence is unbroken. Only one man? Only their whole world ! K. W. P.
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3 A GAME OF CHESS. 119 TMA ATONE NEL AES CRE TTT ORR NAT ART ER SAPD ATEN SOM CAS RE A A GAME OF CHESS. & was a dingy atelier, excepting during a few hours when the sun shone in over the high building which barred light during the remain- ing hours of the day. There he sat before his easel, taking advantage of the glorious sun- light to put a few finishing touches to his latest painting, which he knew would at least assure him the amount of his rent in arrears which he had been dunned and pestered for by his un- relenting landlord. ‘*Damn the landlord anyway!”’ he muttered as he laid aside his palette, ‘‘ and hang these quarters!” he added, for the sun’s rays dis- appeared that moment and shadow reigned in the room. He rose from the little camp-chair and filled his pipe and then stretched himself out on the improvised lounge. | ‘‘Here I am, working as hard as ever man worked, and yet my paintings seem to reap profit only for the dealer who putsthem in ugly gold-plated frames and makes five hundred per cent. for giving them a place in his shop.” He relapsed into silence with a sigh, and then raised himself from the lounge and again looked at his painting, ‘‘ The Awakening of Spring.” : ‘*That was beautiful when I began it, but my work on it is gradually lapsing into the
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120 A GAME OF CHESS. commonplace ; there’s the proof of inspiration —I couldn’t draw a head like that again if I spent a month on it, and yet it only took a few hours when I started. It’s a pity I fell in love with her so quickly—if I could have remained under the spell for a little while longer I’ll wager the painting would have taken the prize at the Academy.” He sighed and walked up and down like acaged lion. ‘‘ Maybe it would have been better if I had expressed and declared to her my sentiments, then I might have known where I stood. Of course, I would only have hastened my doom—but that’s better than sus- pense.” He leaned against the mantelpiece and re- called to his memory how he first met her while renovating a painting in Mr. Pampley’s mag- nificent residence. The old gentleman was a flour merchant, very rich and very vulgar. But his daughter Adele was a girl of rare re- finement and idolized by her father, who was a man of gruff speech but soft heart. ‘‘ Will you not join us at tea?” she urged him after he had finished his work, and insisted on his accept- ance, notwithstanding his apologies and ex- cuses, And then after a few days he was again sent for, and this time she grew more conversant and even interesting. Even an artist’s heart could not remain indifferent to her courtesy TTI PE Le ae pe pee ee ee ey aes
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EUGENE EBLE. I21I and womanly charm, and when thereafter he was invited to make a social call, he looked for- ward to it with more than ordinary anticipation of pleasure. Yet had any onetold him then that he was in love, he would have laughed at it disdainfully. It was then that he began his latest painting, ‘‘ The Awakening of Spring,” prompted by some inexplicable impulse, some undefinable inspiration. Paul was soon a regular visitor at the old widower’s home, and by degrees discovered that his friendship toward Adele was more than platonic. Then he remained away, excusing himself from the numerous invitations with ill- ness, overwork, or out-of-town trips. Once he ~ went there, after his discovery, to fill an invita- tion for a game of chess with Adele, but his discomfiture was torture, and he resolved thenceforth to avoid the house. Paul had so ardently devoted himself to his studies that vanity, which creeps into the nat- ures of men of leisure, had noclaim upon him. It had in fact never occurred to him that his sentiments might have been reciprocated by her. ‘* Egad ! it’s five o’clock !”, Paul heard the clock from the near-by church-tower and roused himself from the fascinating recollec- tions. He was guided in the measurement of time solely by the church-clock’s sonorous tones, for the watch, which had been an heir-
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I22 A GAME OF CHESS. loom in his family, had been hypothecated by him for the sake of a starving confrére who never redeemed the pledge. ‘Five o’clock,” he repeated. ‘‘ Jack Hol- -loway’s smoker begins at seven — wonder whether they’ll have something substantial to eatthere.”’ He fished out a half-dozen coins and counted them. ‘‘ Four shillings and three-pence —hum—that’ll last for breakfast and dinner for to-morrow and the day after—by that time I’ll sell my painting at Coakley’s, and then, by the stars! I’ll feast for a month.” Just then some one knocked at the door, and without waiting for the customary ‘‘ Enter” Mr. Jacksterly walked in, very much out of breath and puffing fearfully. ‘Mr. Paul, I suppose you are ready to pay what you owe me =Eetee: — six — three months’ rent in arrears.’ ‘* Really, my dear Mr. Jacksterly, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but upon taking an inventory of my finances I discover I am the possessor of but four shillings and three-pence, which I as- sure you I am ready and willing to tender you, and that, too, with the greatest of pleasure,” ‘‘This is no time for fun, sir,” the landlord replied, getting very red in the face and fairly green inthe eyes. ‘‘I want my money, and I want it now, or I'll set you on the street in- stantly.”
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EUGENE EBLE. 123 ~**Good Heavens!” Paul exclaimed, with some alarm, ‘‘ I-assure you, it’s — impossi- ble for me to pay it now.” ‘* Very well, then,” the iatuflated Mr. Jack- sterly replied, with firm resolution, as he seized upon ‘*‘ The Awakening of Spring,’ ‘‘ this re- mains in my possession until you do find it possible,” and the old man strode towards the door with the painting under his arm, and ere Paul could recover from his surprise he had gone. ‘* Well, I don’t think I will get that first prize for the durned ‘‘ Awakening,” he mused, philo- sophically. ‘‘It’s good he didn’t take the four shillings, and though now there is no prospect of my feasting for a month, it’s stimulating to hope for something substantial to eat at the smoker.” Just then another knock came on the door and Paul proceeded to open it. ‘‘Wonder whether he’s come back to make a little more fuss. I hope not,” he said in silence, ‘‘for it is really very tiresome to talk to such vulgar people.” But this time it was the postman, who - handed him a letter with a large monogram above the fleur-de-lis. ‘* Hello! from Adele—I sha’n’t read it—yes, I will!” He tore open the envelope and smiled and frowned alternately. He read and re-read
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124 A GAME OF CHESS. the letter and then joyfully burst out, ‘‘ Oh, the dear, darling girl!” and then he read it separately in sentences and gleefully hugged himself. ‘‘‘Do come this evening’—how en- treating! and ‘pa has gone out of town’— how confiding! and ‘I feel so lonely ’—how sig- nificant ! and ‘ we will play chess, you and I ’— how tempting! and—‘ Very—’ Good Heavens ! —‘Very respectfully ’—how tantalizingly for- mal!” Paul dropped from his seventh heaven of joy when he read the closing sentence. ‘‘I sha’n’t go; no, I shall not go; I’ll go to the smoker and patronize the refreshments !”’ There was still another knock at the door, and once more the red-faced landlord walked in. ‘*Mr. Paul, I want to give you notice——” ‘*My dear Mr. Jacksterly,” interposed the latter, under the momentary intoxication of Adele’s letter, ‘‘if you don’t betake yourself quickly out of my presence, I shall have the painful duty imposed upon me of throwing you down the stairs!” With this he stepped;up to — the now paling landlord, and rather urgently shoved him out through thedoor. Hethenre- arranged his tie, and with unusual care brushed his clothes, blackened his shoes, and then pro- ceeded tothe smoker. He argued that it would be an hour’s walk, but for reasons best known to himself he preferred the exercise. It was seven o’clock when he reached Jack’s house, . | |
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EUGENE EBLE. I25 but before entering he again pulled out Adele’s letter, and stood waveringly for nearly five minutes; then, as though witha sudden resolve, he turned on his heel and walked back to his room. He half expected to re-encounter Mr. Jacksterly, but that gentleman, evidently re- alizing that his possession of the painting would fully cover the amount of the rent due, and probably conscious-stricken regarding his un- lawful possession of the same, refrained from again disturbing his tenant. Again Paul energetically plied the brush on his solitary coat, vest, and trousers, and then started out—this time, however, in a direction opposite the one which he had before taken. The ascending moon fed the romantic thoughts which passed through his mind and kept him busy until he finally arrived at the imposing Pampley residence, when he stopped short. ‘Well, here we are,” he said, as he mounted the stoop and rang the bell. ‘‘I know I’m an ‘ass to come here, as I am sure to make a fool of myself, but, by the stars! I can’t resist that temptation.” He heard some one open the inner door and then the storm door. It was Adele. ‘‘T opened’ the door myself because I antici- pated your coming,” she said, warmly shaking hands. They walked into the parlor. A tall, green-shaded lamp spread its soft light over the
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126 A GAME OF CHESS. table where the combatants of the chess-game stood in mute array. The open fire and dark red hangings lent the room a cozy aspect, a home-like atmosphere. ‘* Had I not better light the candelabra?” she asked him on entering. ‘* If you wish it, yes; but the lamplight is so much more home-like—so much more ro- mantic—” He stopped short; he realized that he had made an allusion which he had deter- mined to avoid. He had gone there with the resolution to bar all sentimentality—to play the platonic friend. ‘It zs rather romantic—we will leave it as it is. Look,” she said, pointing to the chess-table, ‘*T have set up the figures; I have sworn to win the game to punish you for your long and very unkind absence. Be seated.” They sat over the chess-board for several minutes without a word. She was surveying the field for the first move; Ae was by silence seeking to suppress that which crowded into his brain. She had advanceda pawn. ‘‘ Your move,’ she gently urged. ‘‘Is it? Oh, yes,’’ he said, confusedly, and then in soliloquy, ‘‘ that’s what the landlord said this afternoon.” After that there was very little conversation. Both felt through the com- munion of their souls that something was im- pending. Once she made a heroic attempt to
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\ \ SS i a ay: AY) war \ A Drawing. E. M. ASHE.
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128 A GAME OF CHESS. rouse him from the strange silence that pos- sessed him by asking how he fared with his paint- ings, to which Paul dryly replied, ‘‘ Oh, fairly well. This afternoon, for instance, a gentleman called and took a strange liking to one of my paintings, ‘ The Awakening of Spring,’ and in less than five minutes made up his mind to take it.” There was both humor and melancholy in his speech. After that, however, there was heavy silence. ‘* How stupid of me!” she exclaimed, as he took one of her pawns. ‘‘I wonder why the pawn is accorded such limited privileges?” ‘‘Why? I presume to make it true to life. The pawn represents the peasant. His pathis straight and narrow, his chances of achieve- ment are few, his doom is generally to fall vic- tim to a higher power; his salvation lies only in grasping an opportunity to deviate from the old rut—and he may wina queen. Yetofttimes in life the humble are envied by the exalted. Their existence is monotonous, true, but happy withal.” Paul sighed, but hardly knew why. Perhaps it was because throughout his remarks he thought of himself when a peasant boy, ere the thrall of ambition had touched him, when he could drink in the beauty of nature without the cares which his ambition had inflicted upon him. After that they again proceeded in silence.
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EUGENE EBLE. 129 He was absent-minded, and one by one his fig- ures vanished from the board. ‘* And why, according to your theory, is the queen allotted almost unlimited sway in her movements?” she resumed. ‘‘Why? For the same obvious reason—to make it true to life. The queen may subdue hundreds by her smile. She represents woman. Sheenthralls us. Sheconquers us. Her move- ments are unchecked, unlimited; she may make inroads on man’s heart, and yet there is no one | to call the halt. The queen wins her game by jinesse ; she thwarts well-developed plans by the intoxication of hercharms. Adele! Adele! do you hear me ?—woman has ruled the des- tiny of empires, the destiny of great minds, for man stands powerless against her influence ; her sway is absolute, because man loves her ! Adele — Adele — because he loves her—as I love——” | ‘¢—- Your move.”’ She interrupted him in his impassionate speech, for she knew he trod on dangerous ground. He had seized her hand in his im- petuosity and held it tightly in his. He could not check the outburst, the accumulation of passion which he had striven toconceal. The interruption was cruel, and he relapsed into silence, save for a few undertone remarks cast upon himself for his folly. The color rushed
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130 A GAME OF CHESS. to and vanished from her cheeks; she looked at him sympathetically, looked at his black eyes which had suddenly grown sinister—she re- gretted having hurt him. . He moved one of his figures, she moved one of hers, both looking intently at the chess-board before them, neither daring to speak, hardly to breathe. Both were thinking of matters quite foreign to the game of chess. Paul was furi- ously chewing at his mustache. Suddenly he rose. ‘*Miss Adele, I trust you will excuse what I said.” His voice was low and serious. ‘‘ I know I have played the fool, and have spoiled our ‘little game of chess—I beg your pardon. I am feeling unwell—the heat—or the close air— or something —I trust you will excuse me for to-night— we can finish the game at another time.” He rose, bowing formally, and walked towards the hall. Adele rushed after him, and holding him by the hand said, imploringly: ‘* Do stay to the finish of the game—you may win tt yet.* He could not refuse. He walked back into the parlor, he swore beneath his mustache that if he met his landlord he would kick him around the block, he resolved to com- mit a hundred-and-one rash acts, but above all he resolved to wiz that game. Gardez!
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- SPUTTERINGS OF A SEETHING CALDRON. 131 ‘“‘Check !” It was Adele. ‘*Check!” Paul had retaliated. Three moves more, and he called ‘‘ Checkmate !”’ They rose from the table simultaneously. He stood irresolute fora moment. She walked up to him and looked him squarely in the eye. Then she laid both hands on his shoulders. ** You have won the game,” she murmured slowly. He kissed her and said good-night. EUGENE EBLE, SPUTTERINGS OF A SEETHING CALDRON. u was a gloomy midsummer afternoon. The moist atmosphere made walking almost un- endurable. Unclean wrinkled little men with long, gray beards stood guard in Essex Street about push-carts of decayed vegetables and ancient fish, shouting in trembling, cracked voices the prices of their wares. From the doors of tenements swarmed hordes of un- washed children crying, shouting, squealing, and rolling comfortably in the gutter. To the dull grinding music of a hand-organ the chil- dren danced a queer outlandish waltz, holding one another's hands, and laughing and chat- tering despite their miserable surroundings. Above the bedlamic noise and hubbub arose a
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132 SPUTTERINGS OF A SEETHING CALDRON. dreary buzzing hum from innumerable sewing- machines. Stout perspiring house-wives were knitting stockings or dandling babies in black doorways. Behind the thousand windows of the tall, dark tenements were the pale, atten- uated faces of skeleton-like men working with fierce energy. Their backs were curved, their shoulders hunched. They were dead to the out- side world for thetime. They never paused, but kept their machines whizzing without cessation. Where the children and the push-cart ped- dlers swarmed thickest was a flight of broken and uneven stone steps leading down to a dingy little caf¢, the merchandise of which was chiefly coffee that mutely demanded an apology and cakes whose age required calcu- lation. A phlegmatic woman with a round red face stood behind the worn counter. In a cor- ner sat an odd group. ‘A short man hummed the ‘‘ Marseillaise.” Next to him was a wea- zened youth smoking a cigarette. Then there was a chalky-faced man with a dogged air and thick lips. The rest of the group were com- monplace and uninteresting. Their faces were expressionless. They all were listening to a tall man who spoke with an intense en- ergy that compelled attention. He frowned and brandished his fists, which sometimes came down on the table with a crash which Startled the coffee-house owner. His eyes
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JOSEPH VON WAHLEN. 133 snapped fire. As I approached and took a seat near him I heard him say in jargon : ‘‘ Yes, my friends, what do we see around us? Misery! misery! misery! Nothing but misery!” At this the little group nodded and mut- tered something in their beards. ‘‘What is done to us when we come here? We are worked to death. All who work on the machines die young. Only the peddlers and store-keepers keep alive. ‘‘ Here the bosses have control of the gov- ernment, and they run things to suit them- selves. They have absolute power. What have the people to say here? I mean the working people. The menin Congress and the legislatures don’t represent them. Talk about your freecountry! That’sall—nonsense. Free country? Gerechter Gott /a Republic on paper!” Amid the plaudits of his auditors the orator continued : ) ‘‘Look at the sweating system here! We are being slaughtered by the thousands. Yes, men, women, and children. Our blood is being spilled as on the battlefield. Excessive labor, bad food, impure air, no sunlight, no rest, poor clothing, worriment, fear of starvation — all these are getting their fine work in on us—just like so many bayonets and Winchester rifles and Gatling guns. ‘‘ What a demoralizing spectacle we have on
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134 SPUTTERINGS OF A SEETHING CALDRON. pena ee es election day! We see a lot of misled working- men going on strike against low wages on 364 days in the year, and on the 365th day they elect into power the servants of the very bosses they have been going on strike against during the whole year. ‘* We are not the only persons who are being oppressed. Itis the same all over the country with the working people. This country is a veritable paradise, overflowing with natural wealth, yet there are hundreds of thousands, nay millions, who must spend their lives in a fierce struggle for just enough to eat to keep them from starvation.” Then he continued : ‘The end is in sight, however. The calm that prevails now is but the quiet before the storm, Time will not go far before it bursts. Then we will have the happiness to see a new condition of affairs, in which a man can be a. man, and not, because of accident of birth or adversity of fortune, a slave. The movement for industrial freedom is on, and it will triumph. Not all the gilded oppressors of the land can stop its progress.” The fire died from the orator’s eyes. Exhaust- ed by his fierce explosion, he sank in a chair. The strange group of listeners broke up. The orator, seizing his hat, slouched out of the café puffing a cigarette. JOSEPH VON WAHLEN.
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A SKETCH FROM THE OPERA. 135 A SKETCH FROM THE OPERA. ee the gallery fills up—not gradually, for a long line of gods had for two hours impatiently awaited the opening of the doors, and when finally at 7:30 they were swung back, a shuffling crowd scrambled up the four pairs of stairs which brought them to their lofty acme of heavenly joy. Once there, the customary struggle for seats ensues. The majority press to the front, while others take seats in the rear, although well knowing that the stage would be nigh unto entirely hidden from theirview. ‘‘‘ Lohengrin’ is to be enacted this evening,” some argue, others reflect ‘‘ ‘ Lo- hengrin’ is to be sung to-night ;” the former scramble to the front, the latter are indifferent as to their location. Down inthe orchestra the seats fill with te- diousslowness. At 8 P.M. the audience consists of fourteen persons. The continuous throng of fancy hats and laces begins at 8:15. The women are lost behind their adornments. When the orchestra seats are filled the cite appear in their boxes, one by one, radiant in their splendor. The first box occupied is that of Miss Sum- merset, a frail young woman with eye-glasses, a devotee of music generally. Her father, twenty years previously, sold suspenders in the capacity of a street-vendor. This was be- fore he took to the race-track as a bookmaker
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136 A SKETCH FROM THE OPERA. and to stocks as a shark. In Miss Summer- set’s train is Mr. Worthingham, also a dev- otee of music. Mr. Summerset fére sits in the rear with mouth wide open and in a half- dozing posture. Mr. and Mrs. Benningston have taken pos- session of fheiry box. Mrs. Benningston re- cently procured a divorce from her husband, but he is now paying most ardent attention to her, as he did when first wooing for her hand. He invites her to theatre, to drives in the park, to parties, and invariably introduces her un- der her maiden name. His former wife, when- ever indelicately questioned as to her object in applying for a divorce, naively answers: ‘‘ Oh, of course, I had legal cause, but the true rea- son was because he cut me down on my milli- ner’s bills and dressmaker’s charges, which he never did in the early days of our honeymoon, so I had to resort to this measure to have him appreciate me more and bring back the honey- moontimes.” This is said without blushing or faltering. To blush is vulgar, and to falter extremely bad taste. ‘** Lohengrin’ isa splendid opera—don’t you think so?” she says, turning to him. ‘‘I think the music is perfectly divine —look at Miss Lovering over there—isn’t she a fright! That gown cost her several hundreds, and yet, ob- serve how senseless she looks in it.”
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A SKETCH FROM THE OPERA. 137 a ee me ee Re, la ae ee Ge ee ee te Benningston leans over, and affably agrees. The audience in the orchestra below is now intently staring at the box occupants through opera-glasses. The preliminary music is being played. But what of it? The loge-holders are quite indifferent to its charm, although ever going into ecstasies over Wagner. Miss Jones-Smythsen’s box contains amongst other Dresden-China figures Mr. Werry Ball, the Keeley-cured society leader. Mrs. Jones- Smythsen entertains royally, and when she ap- pears at the opera with her collection of society freaks much attention is accorded to every move that she or any of her ‘‘its” may make. The curtain goes up—but truly speaking the majority of the music enthusiasts are too much engrossed with themselves to notice it. Mr. Dolly Heall in Mrs. De Witt’s (formerly David’s) box is desperately making love to ~ Miss De Witt (formerly David), her daugh- ter, and his ardor waxeth as he thinks of the many thousands which his devotion may net him. He is quite unconscious of the opera, its wondrous melody, its sublime orchestra- tion, for music exercises no charm over his being, notwithstanding his continuous attend- ance at the opera. A clamorous crowd of creditors require the healing balsam of gold, and his mind is bent upon getting it. Pen- sively he holds his head in his hands and quite
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138 A SKETCH FROM THE OPERA. gives the impression of a student of the art of music. “‘And, pray, why so pensive?” Miss De Witt inquires. ‘‘Ah, music carries me with it—into another world,” he answers; ‘‘ yes, into another world, don’tcherknow —‘ Tannhiuser’ always does carry me away.” ‘** Tannhduser’?’’ she inquires. ‘‘Oh—pardon—I forgot, they are playing ‘Lohengrin.’ I meant ‘Lohengrin’ always does carry me away.” The imbecile thereupon resumes his financial calculation and occa- sionally falls into a line of sentimentality and flattery which is as absurd as it is offen- sive. . The Van Snyckerdens attract much attention to their box, not because they are deemed worthy of interest, for they are as tasteless in dress as they are vulgar in deportment, but be- cause of their guest, M. Lombard Victor Au- gustus de Roussomier, the eminent poet who was never seen to smile. He too seemsdeeply. impressed by the music. ‘* What a wonderfully fine face he has,” some remark, ‘‘and how continuously engrossed in- deed he seems—he is probably gaining inspira- tion from the music for a new poem that will startle the world.” In fact, M. de Roussomier is mentally figuring up as to how he expended
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A SKETCH FROM THE. OPERA. 139 the seventy-three cents which he had in his pocket two hours previously. _ There are others in evidence at the opera who claim appreciation of music. Most evident are the box-holders who carry on a distracting hubbub of conversation during the most sub- lime musical compositions ever written by man. They shrink in disgust from the poor devil who for his love of music is willing to starve a week to procure a seat in the gallery. — E. E. A LISPING young fellow named Smith Declared it wath rapturouth blith With hith thweetheart to thtray On a thtill thunny day, And thnatch an occathional kith. S Sere Trilby craze—it lasted long, So did that ‘‘Annie Rooney” song; But now the craze of every cad Are Poster Pictures that are bad. 2 es swore she loved me dearly, She said I was ‘‘her style” ; My life it cost me nearly, My watch paid for her smile.
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140 COMMENTARIES. COMMENTARIES. THERE will come into the life of youth the time when the turmoil of joys will tempt him, and carry him on its charmed wings into the midst of the whirl which revolves madly, in- cessantly, and carries those who venture near on intothe pool. The brilliancy of lights will attract him, the insinuations of music will charm him, the fire of wine will enthuse him, the smile of woman will intoxicate him, the cheer of good-fellowship will beguile him. Short days and long nights are the order of his life. YET there will come another time into the life of man, when he will rub his eyes in despair, - and discredit the reflection of the mirror. He will vainly seek hair—for he finds none. Vainly will he seek the youthful sparkle of his eye, but it is dull as a muddy pool. He will seek to smoothen the wrinkles which are gathered on his brow, the furrows which excesses wrought upon his features—but in vain—the fire of wine, the smile of woman, the cheer of good-fellowship have accomplished the inevita- ble result. A TIME must come when the normally con- structed mind will realize the shallowness of these fleeting joys. At some stage or other of life man will have accumulated sufficient
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COMMENTARIES. 141 eS ARR, SCN AE AION LIE RO a RR IS SI AEE 2S Ee NE RE RIES PN SATE EES knowledge of the ways of the world to look upon them as shams, calculated only to lend diversion to minds such as cannot realize that man is born for purposes higher than self- gratification. Work, after all, is the most healthy diversion given to man by the gods. Let him, in the quietude of his chamber, work for the accomplishment of his ambitions. Out, out in nature let him seek his idols, away from the intoxication of pleasures which ruin the soul for nobler aims. Such a man will enjoy the genuine fruits of life, and though he may not have achieved his cherished idols, when the bells toll, they bury in him a man who has not lent himself to ignoble deeds, but has clung to idols which have made his life a worthy one. >> » REFERRING to my recent remarks regarding The Howl, 1 would say that among the How/’s - list of famous contributors are names which have become household words in all good | families. Notably may be mentioned a lady who not only ‘‘ did” the earth in 71 days, but has since then ‘‘did” a gentleman with four millions or thereabouts. a ao UPON looking back tothe wonderful feats ac- complished by this miraculous daily, it be-
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142 COMMENTARIES. comes apparent that some gracious Providence had foreseen the various calamities impending over this part of the globe, and had endowed us with the How/’s existence to save us. > 2 * SPEAKING of the How/’s miraculous accom- plishments, I cannot resist the temptation to mention that the How/ is the only journal in the world which is in a position to interview a prince and his dogs in Kissingen when they are at several hundred miles’ distance from that city. > ee I RECENTLY received a cheerful communica- tion, announcing one of the monthly meetings of the ‘‘ American Scribblers’ Society.” Pre- eminent stood out the statement that refresh- ments would be served at close of meetings. I have it from competent authority that very generally a large number of the members of the association, owing to pressure of business, do not arrive at the place of meeting until the tail end thereof. The object of the association and one of the greatest inducements for joining, as appears on the communication, is that ‘‘the interest of surplus moneys shall be. expended in aiding necessitous members and in case of need—(here comes the cheerful part)—of paying funeral ex- penses.
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COMMENTARIES. 143 NEE EE The prospect of getting refreshments at the close of meetings is in itself a great induce- ment for joining, while the delicious prospect of having your funeral expenses paid should certainly be an irresistible incentive for paying five times over the paltry initiation fee and dues. >ee THE suggestion has been made from an Episcopal source, that St. Martin of Tours be made America’s patron saint. Tradition goes that he was of Hungarian birth, born a pagan, but became a Christian at the tender age of ten, and entered a better world in the year 401. It seems that one of the points that fit him for the proposed honor is that his bones were removed on the Fourth of July from Can- - des to Tours, France. Oh! Ye gods! > > » To the lady who sent these six rhymelets on ‘* Spring” Without pangs of regret I would say, If she calls, that to her we shall do not a thing. For getting so deucedly gay. It may be right charming to speak of the flowers, And sing of the May-breeze so cool, But when she sends six, I swear by the powers Me lady must think me a fool.
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144 PERSONAL. PERSONAL. THIs department of WuHImMs will hereafter be conducted for the special benefit of the readers of this publication. Elderly ladies who are desirous of speedily obtaining husbands will find this column a most delightful medium. We have in our office a large list of gentlemen who are very desirous of making matrimonial alliances with just such ladies. Age, national- ity, or color, of no consequence. One of the’ conditions, however, upon which advertise- ments of this kind are accepted is that the editor at his option may first kiss the bride. > > * WE beg to sayto Mr. Jones, of Farmersville, that the three dozen eggs which he sent in payment of one year’s subscription to WHIMS havearrived. Upon examination, however, we find that 32 of the number submitted are not available for our use. Please send stamps for. return, » » » A RECEPTION committee of two has been ap- pointed for the reception of all persons who are desirous of presenting grievances, ‘‘ Jim” has lost one tooth, and ‘‘ Jack”’ is being treated for rheumatism, but both will enthusiastically dis- charge their duties. P. S.—When calling, please do not step on Jim’s tail, it puts him much out of temper.
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©) 8) 4)®) 4) 4) 4) 4) %)4)A)S)4)S)S) ft, ohest Grade Whiskey in America. Antedifuvian Pure Rye Whiskey. > *»F GOLD MEDALS AND AWARDS: Paris, 1889; Jamaica, 1891; Chicago, 1893; Antwerp, 1894; Bordeaux, 1895. > » JOHN OSBORN’S SONS & CO., Sole Proprietors, 70 & 72 BROAD ST., NEW YORK. GREER’S == MN, «SCOTCH WHISKEY. a (956) JOHN OSBORN’S SONS & CO., Sole Agents for U.S., ~ 70 & 72 BROAD ST., NEW YORK. COC CC COCCI (Fj) Sj SR) Sj SH) HS) Hj) M) A) R) SR) I IT (95 (95
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Antique Silverware. Antique English Silver-plated Ware. Antique Bronzes and Statuaries. Antique Jewelry. Antique Dresden China. > » Old and Modern Paintings, 18th Century Laces, &c., &c. > > E. F. EBLE, 15 West 42d Street, NEW YORK. O0006ee Se en ene 7
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aga Have you tried it? No? The Most Delicious Imported Rhum Manufactured. Comme wt faut after dinner. ASK FOR IT. TRY IT. Also ST. PIERRE, MARTINIQUE, AND WEST INDIES RHUMS. H. GRAVIER, Sole Agent for the U. S., 214 Eighth St., Hoboken, N. J. ‘To Get Clippings BUY OF BURRELLE’S PRESS‘. -"_ GLIPPING BUREAU. To Learn how to Scrap-Book and File Clippings, Subscribe for THE CLIPPING COLLECTOR. Address FRANK A. BURRELLE, Western Union Bldg., N. Y. : : : | ; enw’
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