All these symptoms are so naïve that the world at large consents to smile and let them pass; but there are those who think it a pity that when Love takes up the harp of life his first notes so often strike a discord in the ears of those who are compelled to listen and might enjoy a harmony. Perhaps you will set down all these animadversions to green-eyed jealousy when I sign myself, as truth compels me to do, An Old Bachelor. BY JENNIE E. T. DOWE were too high and precious to be shared with those who only a few weeks ago had been his patient listeners, his sympathetic, if sometimes bored, confidants. He rushes to the telephone and holds mysterious conversations one half of which is distinctly audible and naturally piquing to curiosity; but he brooks no inquiry, volunteers no information. He has passed out of the family life as completely as though he did not still deign to eat and sleep beneath the paternal roof. IN LIGHTER VEIN SISTER-IN-LAW: You poor thing! Drawn by C. F. Peters With Ella and the baby both ill. trouble: it's that trained nurse who keeps me and the servants busy. HIS MOTOR-BOAT E cometh not with note of love, H He cometh not with bugle-call, Nor all in silk or velvet clad Put-put-put Tut! His motor-boat it motors near: Put-put-put And Emmy trips it to the pier. He cometh with a patter song, He cometh with a put-tut call; Tut! Look backward, and one stands perplexed, Whether to chuckle or to shiver. One day a holocaust, the next A simple picnic up the river. The banker, in a private way As kind as Pythias to Damon, Will, when some poor man fails to pay The brickbat he has punched his name on, Slay him, and spend the money straight Ön new-winged lions for his gate. Yet friends lay off their skirted coats, On how their rose-bushes are doing. Has really killed so many bears As the official notice stated. Then scolds his beard, which will not stay In curl for more than half a day. 'And so they lived until the Mede Battered the good old town to flinders, And it was buried deep indeed In shifting sands and drifting cinders. Yet so much worse wrought slander's voice Than those who on the ramparts battled That Ninevites who had the choice Of foes that fought or foes that tattled Would say, "We 'll take, by Ishtar! please Our chances with Cyaxares!" TO A LADY BY FRANKLIN P. ADAMS LADY, think you I am lonely Think you in the splendid city. There is not another faceNone that seems to me so prettyNone with half the grace? Think you I have naught to do but Build for you the Lofty Rhyme? Think you that I think of you but Three thirds of the time? Lady, an so be that way your Thinking takes its turn to-night, Then, O Lady, I should say you 're Absolutely right. TEXT AND PICTURES BY OLIVER HERFORD "TO-DAY 's our anniversary," said Jim. "What do you say, Dear Nettie, if, to celebrate, I take you to the play?" "Oh that would be just lovely!" cried Nettie in delight. "But, Jim-what would Belinda say?" She paused in sudden fright. "I had n't thought of that," said Jim, "I 'll tell you what we 'll do: We'll send her to your mother's house to spend a day or two." They put Belinda in a cab, and watched her drive away, Then spent a happy evening at a most unhappy play. III When Jim and Nettie reached their gate at twelve that night they learned From Belinda's lighted window that their daughter had returned. With shoes in hand and beating hearts they started up the stairs, But courage failed-and down they crept, and spent the night in chairs. Drawn by Oliver Herford "WITH SHOES IN HAND AND BEATING HEARTS" THE DE VINNE PRESS, NEW YORK |