by Rick Raphael
"And then she is daintily made" (A smile from the dainty Lisette), "By people expert in the trade Of forming a proper Coquette.
"She's the winningest ways with the beaux," ("Go on!"--said the winning Lisette), "But there isn't a man of them knows The mind of the fickle Coquette!
"She knows how to weep and to sigh," (A sigh from the tender Lisette), "But her weeping is all in my eye,-- Not that of the cunning Coquette!
"In short, she's a creature of art," ("Oh hush!" said the frowning Lisette), "With merely the ghost of a heart,-- Enough for a thorough Coquette.
"And yet I could easily prove" ("Now don't!" said the angry Lisette), "The lady is always in love,-- In love with herself,--the Coquette!
"There,--do not be angry!--you know, My dear little cousin Lisette, You told me a moment ago To paint _you_--a thorough Coquette!"
A SPRING FEELING
BY BLISS CARMAN
I think it must be spring. I feel All broken up and thawed. I'm sick of everybody's "wheel"; I'm sick of being jawed.
I am too winter-killed to live, Cold-sour through and through. O Heavenly Barber, come and give My soul a dry shampoo!
I'm sick of all these nincompoops, Who weep through yards of verse, And all these sonneteering dupes Who whine and froth and curse.
I'm sick of seeing my own name Tagged to some paltry line, While this old _corpus_ without shame Sits down to meat and wine.
I'm sick of all these Yellow Books, And all these Bodley Heads; I'm sick of all these freaks and spooks And frights in double leads.
When good Napoleon's publisher Was dangled from a limb, He should have had an editor On either side of him.
I'm sick of all this taking on Under a foreign name; For when you call it _decadent_, It's rotten just the same.
I'm sick of all this puling trash And namby-pamby rot,-- A Pegasus you have to thrash To make him even trot!
An Age-end Art! I would not give, For all their plotless plays, One round Flagstaffian adjective Or one Miltonic phrase.
I'm sick of all this poppycock In bilious green and blue; I'm tired to death of taking stock Of everything that's "New."
New Art, New Movements, and New Schools, All maimed and blind and halt! And all the fads of the New Fools Who can not earn their salt.
I'm sick of the New Woman, too. Good Lord, she's worst of all. Her rights, her sphere, her point of view, And all that folderol!
She makes me wish I were the snake Inside of Eden's wall, To give the tree another shake, And see another fall.
I'm very much of Byron's mind; I like sufficiency; But just the common garden kind Is good enough for me.
I want to find a warm beech wood, And lie down, and keep still; And swear a little; and feel good; Then loaf on up the hill,
And let the Spring house-clean my brain, Where all this stuff is crammed; And let my heart grow sweet again; And let the Age be damned.
WASTED OPPORTUNITIES[6]
BY ROY FARRELL GREENE
The lips I might have tasted, rosy ripe as any cherry, How they pair off by the dozens when my memory goes back Across the current of the years aboard of Fancy's ferry, Which shuns the shores of What-We-Have and touches What-We-Lack. The girl I took t' singin'-school one night, who vowed she'd never Before walked with a feller 'thout her mother bein' by, I reckon that her temptin' mouth will haunt my dreams forever, The lips I might have tasted if I'd had the nerve t' try!
I recollect another girl, as chipper as a robin, Who rode beside me in a sleigh one night through snow an' sleet, An' both my hands I kept in use a guidin' good ol' Dobbin-- One didn't need them any mor'n a chicken needs four feet. Too scared was I to hold her in, or warm her cheeks with kisses,-- I know, now, she expected it, for once I heard her sigh-- To-day I'd like t' kick myself for these neglected blisses, The lips I might have tasted if I'd had the nerve t' try.
I never kissed Rebecca, she was sober as a Quaker, I never kissed Alvira, though I took her home one night, That city cousin of the Smiths, a Miss Myrtilla Baker, Though scores of opportunities slipped by me, left an' right. It makes me hate myself to-day when I on Fancy's ferry Have crossed the current of the years to olden days gone by, T' think of all the lips I've missed, ripe-red as topmost cherry, The lips I might have tasted if I'd had the nerve t' try.
[Footnote 6: Lippincott's Magazine.]
THE WEDDIN'
BY JENNIE BETTS HARTSWICK
Well, it's over, it's _all_ over--bein' the last to leave I know_that_--and I declare, I'm that full of all the things we had to eatthat John and me won't want any supper for a good hour yet, so I justran in to tell you about it while it's on top of my mind.
It's an everlastin' shame you had to miss it! One thing, though, you'llget a trayful of the good things sent in to you, I shouldn't wonder. Iknow there's loads left, for I happened to slip out to the kitchen for adrink of water--I was that _dry_ after all those salty nuts, and Ididn't want to trouble 'em--and I saw just _heaps_ of things standin'round.
Most likely you'll get a good, large plate of cake, not just a pinchin'little mite of a piece in a box. The boxes is real pretty, though, andthey did look real palatial all stacked up on a table by the front doorwith a strange colored man, in white gloves like a pall-bearer, to hand'em to you.
How did I get two of 'em? Why, it just happened that way. You see, whenI was leavin' I missed my sun-shade and I laid my box down on thehatrack-stand while I went upstairs to look for it. I went through allthe rooms, and just when I'd about given it up, why, there it was, rightin my hand all the time! Wasn't it foolish? And when I came downstairs Ifound I'd clean forgot where I'd laid that box of cake. I hunted_everywhere_, and then I just had to tell the man how 'twas, so hehanded me another one, and I was just walkin' out the front door when,would you believe it! if there wasn't the _other_ one, just as innocent,on the hatrack-stand where I had laid it. So now I have three of 'em,countin' John's.
I just can't seem to realize that Eleanor Jamison is married at last,can you? She took her time if ever anybody did. They do say she was realtaken with that young college professor with the full beard andspectacles that visited there last summer, and then to think that, afterall, she went and married a man with a smooth face. He wears glasses,though; that's one point in common.
Eleanor's gone off a good deal lately, don't you think so? You hadn'tnoticed it? But then you never was any great hand at noticin', I'venoticed you weren't. Why, the other day when I was there offerin' tohelp 'em get ready for the weddin' I noticed that she looked real_worn_, and there was two or three little fine lines in hereye-corners--not real _wrinkles_, of course--but we all know that linesis a forerunner. Her hair's beginnin' to turn, too; I noticed thatcomin' out of church last Sunday. I dare say her knowing this made herless particular than she'd once have been; and after all, marryin' anyhusband is a good deal like buyin' a new black silk dress pattern--anawful risk.
You may look at it on both sides and hold it up to the light, and pullit to see if it'll fray and try if it'll spot, but you can't be surewhat it'll do till after you've worn it a spell.
There's one advantage to the dress pattern, though--you can make 'emtake it back if you mistrust it won't wear--if you haven't cut into it,that is--but when you've got a husband, why, you've _got_ him, to haveand to hold, for better and worse and good and all.
Yes, I'm comin' to the weddin'--I declare, when I think how carelessEleanor is about little things I can't help mistrusting what kind of ahousekeeper she'll turn out. Why, when John's and my invitation came itwas only printed to the church--there wasn't any reception
card amongit.
Now I've supplied Eleanor's folks with butter and eggs and springchickens for thirty years, and I'd just have gone anyway, for I knew itwas a mistake, but John held out that 'twasn't--that they didn't mean tohave us to the house part; so to settle it I went right over and told'em. I told Eleanor she mustn't feel put out about it--we was allmortal--and if it hadn't been for satisfyin' John I'd never have let herknow how careless she'd been--of course I'd made allowance, a weddin'_is_ upsettin' to the intellect--and so 'twas all right.
I had a real good view of the ceremony; but 'twasn't _their_ fault thatI had; it just happened that way.
When John and me got there I asked the young man at the door--he was ayusher and a stranger to me--to give us a front seat, but he said thatall the front places was reserved for the relations of the bride andgroom, and then I noticed that they'd tied off the middle aisle aboutseven pews back with white satin ribbons and a big bunch of pink roses.It seemed real impolite to invite folks to a weddin' and then take thebest seats themselves.
Well, just then I happened to feel my shoelacin' gettin' loose and Istepped to one side to fix it; and when I got up from stoopin' and mygloves on and buttoned--I had to take 'em off to tie my shoe--andstraightened John's cravat for him, why, there was the families on bothsides just goin' in.
Of course we had to follow right along behind 'em, and when we came upto the ribbons--would you believe it?--the big bow just untieditself--or seemed to--I heard afterward it was done by somebody pullin'a invisible wire--and we all walked through and took seats. I made Johngo into the pew ahead of me so's I could get out without disturbin'anybody if I should have a headache or feel faint.
When John found we was settin' with the family--he was right close upagainst Eleanor's mother--he was for gettin' up and movin' back. But Ijust whispered to him, "John Appleby, do sit still! I hear the bridalparty comin'!"
Of course I didn't just _hear 'em_, but I was sure they'd be along in aminute, and I knew it wouldn't do to move our seats anyway, as if weweren't satisfied with 'em.
The church was decorated beautiful. Eleanor's folks must have cleanedout their green-house to put into it, besides _tons_ of greens from thecity.
Pretty near the whole of Wrenville was there, and I must say the churchwas a credit to the Wrenville dressmakers.
I could pick out all their different fits without any trouble.
There was Arabella Satterlee's--she shapes her backs like the top of acoffin, or sometimes they remind me more of a kite; and Sallie AnnHodd's--she makes 'em square; and old Mrs. Tucker's--you can always tellhers by the way the armholes draw; she makes the minister's wife's. Butthey'd every one of 'em done their level best and I was proud of 'em.
Well, when the organ--it had been playin' low and soft all thetime--changed off into the weddin' march and the bridesmaids, eight of'em, marched up the aisle behind the eight yushers, I tell you, MissHalliday, it was a _sight_!
They was all in pink gauzy stuff--I happened to feel one of 'em as shewent by but I couldn't tell what 'twas made of; it seemed dreadful_flimsy_--and big flat hats all made of roses on their heads, andcarryin' bunches pf long-stemmed roses so big that they had to hold 'emin their arms like young babes.
Eleanor came behind 'em all, walkin' with her father. He always was asmall-built man, and with her long trail and her veil spreadin' out so,why, I declare, you couldn't hardly see him.
I whispered to John that they looked more as if Eleanor was goin' togive her pa away than him her.
Eleanor's dress was elegant, only awful _plain_. It was made in New Yorkat Greenleaf's. I know, because when I was upstairs lookin' for mysunshade--I told you about that, didn't I?--I happened to get intoEleanor's room by mistake, and there was the box it came in right on thebed before my eyes.
Well, when they was all past, I kept lookin' round me for the groom andwonderin' how I had come to miss him, when all at once John nudged me,and there he was right in front of me and the minister beginnin' tomarry 'em, and where he had sprung from I can't tell you this livin'minute!
Came in from the vestry, did he? Well, now, I never would have thoughtof that!
Well, when they was most married the most ridiculous thing happened.
You see, Eleanor's father in steppin' back after givin' her away had puthis foot right down on her trail and never noticed, and when it cametime for the prayer Eleanor pulled and pulled--they was to kneel down ontwo big white satin cushions in front of 'em--but her pa neverbudged--just stood there with his eyes shut and his head bowed asdevout as anything--and before Eleanor could stop him, her husband--hewas most her husband, anyway--had kneeled right down on to the cushion,with his eyes shut, too, I suppose, and the minister had to pray over'em that way. I could see Eleanor's shoulders shakin' under her veil,and of course it _was_ ridiculous if it hadn't been so solemn.
And then they all marched down the aisle, with the bride and groomleadin' the procession. Eleanor's veil was put back, and I noticed thatshe was half-laughin' yet, and her cheeks were real pink, and her eyessort of bright and moist--she looked real handsome. Good gracious, MissHalliday, don't ever tell me that's six o'clock! And I haven't told athing about the presents, and who was there, and Eleanor's clothes, andwhat they had to eat--why, they didn't even use their own china-ware!They had a colored caterer from New York, and he brought everything--allthe dishes and table-cloths and spoons and forks, besides therefreshments. I know, because just after he came I happened to carryover my eleven best forks--John broke the dozenth tryin' to pry the corkout of a bottle of raspberry vinegar the year we was married--I nevertake a fork to pry with--and offered to loan 'em for the weddin', butthey didn't need 'em, so I just stayed a minute or two in the butler'spantry and then went home--but I saw the caterer unpackin'.
There! I knew I'd stay too long! There's John comin' in the gate afterme. I must go this blessed minute.
THE THOMPSON STREET POKER CLUB
SOME CURIOUS POINTS IN THE NOBLE GAME UNFOLDED
BY HENRY GUY CARLETON
When Mr. Tooter Williams entered the gilded halls of the Thompson StreetPoker Club Saturday evening it was evident that fortune had smeared himwith prosperity. He wore a straw hat with a blue ribbon, an expressionof serene content, and a glass amethyst on his third finger whoseeffulgence irradiated the whole room and made the envious eyes of Mr.Cyanide Whiffles stand out like a crab's. Besides these extraordinaryfurbishments, Mr. Williams had his mustache waxed to fine points and hisback hair was precious with the luster and richness which accompany theuse of the attar of Third Avenue roses combined with the bear's greasedispensed by basement barbers on that fashionable thoroughfare.
In sharp contrast to this scintillating entrance was the coming of theReverend Mr. Thankful Smith, who had been disheveled by the heat,discolored by a dusty evangelical trip to Coney Island, and oppressed byan attack of malaria which made his eyes bloodshot and enriched hisrespiration with occasional hiccoughs and that steady aroma which issaid to dwell in Weehawken breweries.
The game began at eight o'clock, and by nine and a series of two-pairhands and bull luck Mr. Gus Johnson was seven dollars and a nickel aheadof the game, and the Reverend Mr. Thankful Smith, who was banking, wasnine stacks of chips and a dollar bill on the wrong side of the ledger.Mr. Cyanide Whiffles was cheerful as a cricket over four winningsamounting to sixty-nine cents; Professor Brick was calm, and Mr. TooterWilliams was gorgeous and hopeful, and laying low for the first jackpot,which now came. It was Mr. Whiffles's deal, and feeling that the eyes ofthe world were upon him, he passed around the cards with a precision andrapidity which were more to his credit than the I.O.U. from Mr. Williamswhich was left over from the previous meeting.
Professor Brick had nine high and declared his inability to make anopening.
Mr. Williams noticed a dangerous light come into the Reverend Mr.Smith's eye and hesitated a moment, but having two black jacks and apair of trays, opened with the limit.
"I liffs yo' jess tree dollahs,
Toot," said the Reverend Mr. Smith,getting out the wallet and shaking out a wad.
Mr. Gus Johnson, who had a four flush and very little prudence, came in.Mr. Whiffles sighed and fled.
Mr. Williams polished the amethyst, thoroughly examining a scratch onone of its facets, adjusted his collar, skinned his cards, stealthilyglanced again at the expression of the Reverend Mr. Smith's eye, andsaid he would "Jess--jess call."
Mr. Whiffles supplied the wants of the gentleman from the pack with themechanical air of a man who had lost all hope in a hereafter. Mr.Williams wanted one card, the Reverend Mr. Smith said he'd take aboutthree, and Mr. Gus Johnson expressed a desire for a club, if it was nottoo much trouble.
Mr. Williams caught another tray, and, being secretly pleased, led outby betting a chip. The Reverend Mr. Smith uproariously slammed down astack of blue chips and raised him seven dollars.
Mr. Gus Johnson had captured the nine of hearts and so retired.
Mr. Williams had four chips and a dollar left.
"I sees dat seven," he said impressively, "an' I humps it ten mo'."
"Whar's de c'lateral?" queried the Reverend Mr. Smith calmly, but withaggressiveness in his eye.
Mr. Williams sniffed contemptuously, drew off the ring, and deposited itin the pot with such an air as to impress Mr. Whiffles with the ideathat the jewel must have been worth at least four million dollars. ThenMr. Williams leaned back in his chair and smiled.
