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[PS] Finish semantics, add needed CSS
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@charset "utf-8";
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@namespace epub "http://www.idpf.org/2007/ops";
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[epub|type~="epigraph"]{
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font-style: italic;
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hyphens: none;
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}
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[epub|type~="epigraph"] em,
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[epub|type~="epigraph"] i{
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font-style: normal;
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}
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[epub|type~="epigraph"] cite{
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margin-top: 1em;
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font-style: normal;
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font-variant: small-caps;
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}
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[epub|type~="epigraph"] cite i{
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font-style: italic;
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}
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section > header [epub|type~="epigraph"]{
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display: inline-block;
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margin: auto;
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max-width: 80%;
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text-align: left;
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}
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section > header [epub|type~="epigraph"] + *{
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margin-top: 3em;
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}
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@supports(display: table){
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section > header [epub|type~="epigraph"]{
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display: table;
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}
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}
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[epub|type~="z3998:drama"] tr:first-child td{
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padding-top: 0;
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}
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[epub|type~="z3998:drama"] tr:last-child td{
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padding-bottom: 0;
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[epub|type~="z3998:drama"] td{
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vertical-align: top;
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padding: .5em;
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}
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[epub|type~="z3998:drama"] td:last-child{
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padding-right: 0;
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[epub|type~="z3998:drama"] td:first-child{
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padding-left: 0;
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[epub|type~="z3998:drama"] td[epub|type~="z3998:persona"]{
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hyphens: none;
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text-align: right;
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width: 20%;
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}
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[epub|type~="z3998:drama"] table{
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margin: 1em auto;
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width: 100%;
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border-collapse: collapse;
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}
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[epub|type~="z3998:stage-direction"]{
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font-style: italic;
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[epub|type~="z3998:stage-direction"] i{
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font-style: normal;
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[epub|type~="z3998:stage-direction"]::before{
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content: "(";
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font-style: normal;
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}
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[epub|type~="z3998:stage-direction"]::after{
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content: ")";
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font-style: normal;
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}
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[epub|type~="z3998:persona"]{
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font-variant: all-small-caps;
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}
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tr.together td{
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padding: 0 .5em 0 0;
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vertical-align: middle;
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}
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tr.together td:only-child,
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tr.together td + td{
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border-left: 1px solid;
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}
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[epub|type~="z3998:drama"] .together td:last-child{
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padding-left: .5em;
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}
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.together + .together td[rowspan],
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.together + .together td[rowspan] + td{
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padding-top: .5em;
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}
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@ -1,4 +1,4 @@
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”<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
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<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
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<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xmlns:epub="http://www.idpf.org/2007/ops" epub:prefix="z3998: http://www.daisy.org/z3998/2012/vocab/structure/, se: https://standardebooks.org/vocab/1.0" xml:lang="en-US">
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<head>
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<title>Chapter 1</title>
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@ -7,14 +7,20 @@
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</head>
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<body epub:type="bodymatter z3998:fiction">
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<section id="chapter-102" epub:type="volume se:short-story">
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<h2 epub:type="title">A Valedictory</h2>
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<blockquote>
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<p>The “Some Postscripts” man on the Post has about reached the end of his vein. These spurts of brilliancy many are capable of, but the sustained light that burns for years to gladden and instruct is a rare quality, and the possessor should be appreciated by the people, for he is the true Messiah—the eldest son of the great intellectual lord of the universe.</p>
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<p>—Brenham Press.</p>
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</blockquote>
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<header>
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<h2 epub:type="title">A Valedictory</h2>
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<blockquote epub:type="epigraph">
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<p>The “Some Postscripts” man on the <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">Post</i> has about reached the end of his vein. These spurts of brilliancy many are capable of, but the sustained light that burns for years to gladden and instruct is a rare quality, and the possessor should be appreciated by the people, for he is the true Messiah—the eldest son of the great intellectual lord of the universe.</p>
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<cite>—Brenham <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">Press.</i></cite>
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</blockquote>
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</header>
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<p>Brother, you should not have given us away. We just had to salt that vein before we could get it in the market, and when the “salt” gave out, and the end of the vein was reached, we hoped you wouldn’t notice the fact. If you hadn’t mentioned it we might have gone on for years gladdening and instructing and drawing princely salary, but now our little spurt of our brilliancy will have to put on its pajamas and retire between the cold sheets of oblivion. We do not blame you at all for calling the public’s attention to the played-out lode, for it is a terrible responsibility to guide the footsteps of innocent purchasers who may be taken in by glittering, quartz and seductive pyrites of iron. To have one whom we regarded as a friend jerk us backward by the left leg when we had made such a successful sneak, and were about to scramble over the back fence of the temple of fame makes us sad, but we do not repine for:</p>
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<blockquote>
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<p>“Twere better to have spurted and lost Than never to have spurted at all.”</p>
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<blockquote epub:type="z3998:poem">
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<p>
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<span>“ ’Twere better to have spurted and lost</span>
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<br/>
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<span>Than never to have spurted at all.”</span>
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</p>
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</blockquote>
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<p>We really intended our light to bum for years, and to have the wick snuffed so quickly, although done in sorrowing kindness, causes us to sputter and smoke a little as we go out.</p>
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<p>When the true Messiah comes along and shies his valise over to the night clerk, and turns back his cuffs ready to fill the long-felt want; if he should ever hear the whoops of those unappreciative critics who would crucify him, these few lines may teach him to fly to Brenham where his papa, the great intellectual lord of the universe, will protect him.</p>
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@ -13,9 +13,14 @@
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<p>They were men from different parts of the country, some of them from cities thousands of miles away. They had been rattled in the dice box of chance and thrown in a temporary cluster into the hospitable gates of the Magnolia city.</p>
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<p>They smoked and talked, and that feeling of comradeship which seizes men who meet in the world far from their own homes, was strong upon them.</p>
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<p>They told all their funny stories and compared experiences, and then a little silence fell upon them, and while the hanging strata of blue smoke grew thicker, their thoughts began to wander back—as the cows stray homeward at eventide—to other scenes and faces.</p>
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<blockquote>
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<p>“ ‘And o’er them many a flaming range of vapor buoyed the crescent bark:</p>
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<p>And rapt through many a rosy change The twilight melted into dark,’ ”</p>
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<blockquote epub:type="z3998:poem">
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<p>
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<span>“ ‘And o’er them many a flaming range of vapor buoyed the crescent bark:</span>
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<br/>
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<span>And rapt through many a rosy change</span>
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<br/>
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<span>The twilight melted into dark,’ ”</span>
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</p>
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</blockquote>
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<p>quoted the New York drummer. “Heigho! I wish I was at home to-night.”</p>
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<p>“Same here,” said the little man from <abbr>St.</abbr> Louis. “I can just see the kids now tumbling round on the floor and cutting up larks before Laura puts them to bed. There’s one blessing, though, I’ll be home on Thanksgiving.”</p>
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@ -30,10 +35,16 @@
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<p>“Banged if you ain’t rung the bell first shot,” said the Chicago drummer. “Our affections get busted up something worse’n killing hogs.”</p>
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<p>The others frowned upon the Chicago drummer, for the man with gold glasses was about to speak again.</p>
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<p>“We say,” he went on, “that love will live forever, and yet when we are gone others step into our places and the wounds our loss had made are healed. And yet there is an added pang to death that those of us that are wise can avoid, fhe sting of death and the victory of the grave can be lessened. When we know that our hours are numbered, and when we lie with ebbing breath and there comes</p>
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<blockquote>
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<p>‘Unto dying ears the earliest pipe Of half awakened birds;</p>
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<p>And unto dying eyes</p>
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<p>The casement slowly grows a glimmering square,’</p>
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<blockquote epub:type="z3998:poem">
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<p>
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<span class="i1">‘Unto dying ears the earliest pipe</span>
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<br/>
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<span class="i2">Of half awakened birds;</span>
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<br/>
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<span class="i2">And unto dying eyes</span>
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<br/>
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<span>The casement slowly grows a glimmering square,’</span>
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</p>
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</blockquote>
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<p>there is sweet relief in knowing that those we leave behind us are shielded from want.</p>
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<p>“Gentlemen, we are all far from home and you know the risks of travel. I am representing one of the best accident insurance companies on earth, and I want to write every one of you. I offer you the finest death, partial disablement, loss of finger or toe, nervous shock, sick benefit policy known to—”</p>
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@ -13,9 +13,12 @@
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<p>He had a birthday last Tuesday and she sent him a beautiful bound and illustrated edition of Coleridge’s famous poem, “The Ancient Mariner.”</p>
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<p>The hero of the diamond opened the book with a puzzled look.</p>
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<p>“What’s dis bloomin’ stuff about, anyways?” he said, and read:</p>
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<blockquote>
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<p>It is the Ancient Mariner</p>
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<p>And he stoppeth one of three—</p>
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<blockquote epub:type="z3998:poem">
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<p>
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<span>It is the Ancient Mariner</span>
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<br/>
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<span>And he stoppeth one of three—</span>
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</p>
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</blockquote>
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<p>The famous shortstop threw the book out the window, stuck out his chin and said:</p>
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<p>“No Texas sis can gimme de umpire face like dat. I swipes nine daisy cutters outer ten dat comes in my garden, I do.”</p>
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@ -10,25 +10,49 @@
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<h2 epub:type="title">How It Started</h2>
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<p>“You had better move your chair a little further back,” said the old resident. “I saw one of the Judkinses go into the newspaper office just now with his gun, and there may be some shooting.”</p>
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<p>The reporter, who was in the town gathering information for the big edition, got his chair quickly behind a pillar of the hotel piazza, and asked what the trouble was about.</p>
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<p>“It’s an old feud of several years’ standing,” said the old resident, “between the editor and the Judkins family. About every two months they get to shooting at one another. Everybody in town knows about it. This is the way it started. The Judkinses live in another town, and one time a good-looking young lady of the family came here on a visit to a <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Brown. <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Brown gave her a big party—a regular high-toned affair, to get the young men acquainted with her. One young fellow fell in love with her, and sent a little poem to our paper, the Observer. This is the way it read:</p>
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<blockquote>
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<p>To Miss Judkins (Visiting <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> T. Montcalm Brown.)</p>
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<p>We love to see her wear A gown of simple white.</p>
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<p>Nothing but a rose in her hair At <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Brown’s that night,</p>
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<p>The fairest of them all</p>
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<p>She stood, with blushes red,</p>
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<p>While bright the gas-light shone Upon her lovely head.</p>
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<p>“It’s an old feud of several years’ standing,” said the old resident, “between the editor and the Judkins family. About every two months they get to shooting at one another. Everybody in town knows about it. This is the way it started. The Judkinses live in another town, and one time a good-looking young lady of the family came here on a visit to a <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Brown. <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Brown gave her a big party—a regular high-toned affair, to get the young men acquainted with her. One young fellow fell in love with her, and sent a little poem to our paper, the <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">Observer</i>. This is the way it read:</p>
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<blockquote epub:type="z3998:poem">
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<header>
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<span>To <b>Miss Judkins</b></span>
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<span>(Visiting <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> T. Montcalm Brown.)</span>
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</header>
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<p>
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<span>We love to see her wear</span>
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<br/>
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<span class="i1">A gown of simple white.</span>
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<br/>
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<span>Nothing but a rose in her hair</span>
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<br/>
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<span class="i1">At <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Brown’s that night,</span>
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<br/>
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<span>The fairest of them all</span>
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<br/>
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<span class="i1">She stood, with blushes red,</span>
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<br/>
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<span>While bright the gas-light shone</span>
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<br/>
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<span class="i1">Upon her lovely head.</span>
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</p>
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</blockquote>
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<p>“That poem, now, was what started the feud.”</p>
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<p>“I don’t see anything wrong with the poem,” said the reporter. “It seems a little crude, but contains nothing to give offense.”</p>
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<p>“Well,” said the old resident, “the poem was all right as it was written. The trouble originated in the newspaper office. The morning after it was sent in the society editress got hold of it first. She is an old maid and she didn’t think the second line quite proper, so she ran her pencil through it. Then the advertising manager prowled around through the editor’s mail as usual, and read the poem. Old Brown owed the office $17 back subscription, and the advertising manager struck out the fourth line. He said old Brown shouldn’t get any free advertising in that office.</p>
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<p>“Then the editor’s wife happened to come in to see if there was any square, perfumed envelopes among his mail, and she read it. She was at the Brown’s party herself, and when she read the line that proclaimed Miss Judkins ‘The fairest of them all’ she turned up her nose and scratched that out.</p>
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<p>“Then the editor himself got hold of it. He is heavily interested in our new electric light plant, and his blue pencil jumped on the line ‘While bright the gas-light shone’ in a hurry. Later on one of the printers came in and grabbed a lot of copy, and this poem was among it. You know what printers will do if you give them a chance, so here is the way the poem came out in the paper:</p>
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<blockquote>
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<p>To Miss Judkins</p>
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<p>(Visiting <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> T. Montcalm Brown.)</p>
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<p>We loved to see her wear Nothing but a rose in her hair.</p>
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<p>She stood with blushes red Upon her lovely head.</p>
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<blockquote epub:type="z3998:poem">
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<header>
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<span>To <b>Miss Judkins</b></span>
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<span>(Visiting <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> T. Montcalm Brown.)</span>
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</header>
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<p>
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<span>We loved to see her wear</span>
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<br/>
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<span>Nothing but a rose in her hair.</span>
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<br/>
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<span>She stood with blushes red</span>
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<br/>
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<span>Upon her lovely head.</span>
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</p>
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</blockquote>
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<p>“And you see,” continued the old resident, “the Judkinses got mad.”</p>
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</section>
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@ -12,23 +12,41 @@
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<p>Some one knocked timidly outside the door, and the night editor yelled, “Come in.”</p>
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<p>A handsome young lady with entreating blue eyes and a Psyche knot entered with a rolled manuscript in her hand.</p>
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<p>The night editor took it silently and unrolled it. It was a poem and he read it half aloud with a convulsive jaw movement that resulted from his organs of speech being partially engaged with about a quarter of a plug of chewing tobacco. The poem ran thus:</p>
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<blockquote>
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<p>A Requiem</p>
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<p>The soft, sweet, solemn dawn stole through The latticed room’s deep gloom;</p>
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<p>He lay in pallid, pulseless peace,</p>
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<p>Fulfilled his final doom.</p>
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<p>Oh, breaking heart of mine—oh, break!</p>
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<p>Left lonely here to mourn;</p>
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<p>My alter ego, mentor, friend</p>
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<p>Thus from me rudely torn.</p>
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<p>Within his chamber dead he lies,</p>
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<p>And stilled is his sweet lyre;</p>
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<p>How long he pored o’er midnight oil.</p>
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<p>With grand poetic fire!</p>
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<p>Till came the crash, when his bright light</p>
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<p>Went out, and all was drear;</p>
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<p>And my sad soul was left to wait</p>
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<p>In grief and anguish here.</p>
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<blockquote epub:type="z3998:poem">
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<header>A Requiem</header>
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<p>
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<span>The soft, sweet, solemn dawn stole through</span>
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<br/>
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<span>The latticed room’s deep gloom;</span>
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<br/>
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<span>He lay in pallid, pulseless peace,</span>
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<br/>
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<span>Fulfilled his final doom.</span>
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<br/>
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<span>Oh, breaking heart of mine—oh, break!</span>
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<br/>
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<span>Left lonely here to mourn;</span>
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<br/>
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<span>My alter ego, mentor, friend</span>
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<br/>
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<span>Thus from me rudely torn.</span>
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<br/>
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<span>Within his chamber dead he lies,</span>
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<br/>
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<span>And stilled is his sweet lyre;</span>
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<br/>
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<span>How long he pored o’er midnight oil.</span>
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<br/>
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<span>With grand poetic fire!</span>
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<br/>
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<span>Till came the crash, when his bright light</span>
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<br/>
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<span>Went out, and all was drear;</span>
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<br/>
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<span>And my sad soul was left to wait</span>
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<br/>
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<span>In grief and anguish here.</span>
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</p>
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</blockquote>
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<p>“When did this happen?” asked the night editor.</p>
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<p>I wrote it last night, sir,” said the young lady. “Is it good enough to print?”</p>
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@ -36,7 +54,7 @@
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<p>The young lady seated herself and the night editor knitted his brows and read over the poem two or three times to get the main points. He then wrote a few lines upon a sheet of paper and said:</p>
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<p>Now, miss, here is the form in which your item will appear when we print it:</p>
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<blockquote>
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<p>FATAL ACCIDENT</p>
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<p><b>Fatal Accident</b></p>
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<p>Last evening <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Alter Ego of this city was killed by the explosion of a kerosene lamp while at work in his room.</p>
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</blockquote>
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<p>“Now, you see, miss, the item includes the main facts in the case, and—”</p>
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@ -9,29 +9,92 @@
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<section id="chapter-32" epub:type="volume se:short-story">
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<h2 epub:type="title">The Telegram</h2>
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<p>Scene: Telegraph office in Houston.</p>
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<p>(Enter handsome black velour cape, trimmed with jet and braid, with Tibetan fur collar, all enclosing lovely young lady.)</p>
|
||||
<p>Young lady—Oh, I want to send a telegram at once, if you please. Give me about six blanks, please. (<i>Writes about ten minutes.</i>) How much will this amount to, please?</p>
|
||||
<p>Clerk (<i>counting words</i>)—Sixteen dollars and ninety-five cents, ma’am.</p>
|
||||
<p>Young lady—Goodness gracious! I’ve only thirty cents with me. (<i>Suspiciously</i>.) How is it you charge so much, when the post-office only requires two cents?</p>
|
||||
<p>Clerk—We claim to deliver messages quicker than the post-office, ma’am. You can send ten words to Waco for twenty-five cents.</p>
|
||||
<p>Young lady—Give me another blank, please: I guess that will be enough.</p>
|
||||
<p>(<i>After five minutes’ hard work she produces the following:</i>)</p>
|
||||
<p>“Ring was awfully lovely. Come down as soon as you can. Mamie.”</p>
|
||||
<p>Clerk—This contains eleven words. That will be thirty cents.</p>
|
||||
<p>Young lady—Oh, gracious! I wanted that nickel to buy gum with.</p>
|
||||
<p>Clerk—Let’s see. You might strike out, “awfully,” and that will make it all right.</p>
|
||||
<p>Young lady—Indeed I sha’n’t. You ought to see that ring. I’ll give you the thirty cents.</p>
|
||||
<p>Clerk—To whom is this to be sent?</p>
|
||||
<p>Young lady—It seems to me you are rather inquisitive, sir.</p>
|
||||
<p>Clerk (<i>wearily</i>)—I assure you there is no personal interest expressed in the question. We have to know the name and address in order to send the message.</p>
|
||||
<p>Young lady—Oh, yes. I didn’t think of that. (<i>She writes the name and address, pays the thirty cents and departs. Twenty minutes later she returns, out of breath.</i>)</p>
|
||||
<p>Young lady—Oh, I forgot something. Have you sent it off yet?</p>
|
||||
<p>Clerk—Yes, ten minutes ago.</p>
|
||||
<p>Young lady—Oh, I’m so sorry. It isn’t the way I wanted it at all. Can’t you telegraph and have it changed for me?</p>
|
||||
<p>Clerk—Is it anything important?</p>
|
||||
<p>Young lady—Yes: I wanted to underscore the words “awfully lovely.” Will you have that attended to at once?</p>
|
||||
<p>Clerk—Certainly, and we have some real nice violet extract; would you like a few drops on your telegram?</p>
|
||||
<p>Young lady—Oh, yes: so kind of you. I expect to send all my telegrams through your office, you have been so accommodating. Good morning.</p>
|
||||
<table epub:type="z3998:drama">
|
||||
<tr>
|
||||
<td/>
|
||||
<td><i epub:type="z3998:stage-direction">Enter handsome black velour cape, trimmed with jet and braid, with Tibetan fur collar, all enclosing lovely young lady.</i></td>
|
||||
</tr>
|
||||
<tr>
|
||||
<td epub:type="z3998:persona">Young lady</td>
|
||||
<td>Oh, I want to send a telegram at once, if you please. Give me about six blanks, please. <i epub:type="stage-direction">Writes about ten minutes.</i> How much will this amount to, please?</td>
|
||||
</tr>
|
||||
<tr>
|
||||
<td epub:type="z3998:persona">Clerk</td>
|
||||
<td><i epub:type="z3998:stage-direction">counting words</i> Sixteen dollars and ninety-five cents, ma’am.</td>
|
||||
</tr>
|
||||
<tr>
|
||||
<td epub:type="z3998:persona">Young lady</td>
|
||||
<td>Goodness gracious! I’ve only thirty cents with me. <i epub:type="stage-direction">Suspiciously</i>. How is it you charge so much, when the post-office only requires two cents?</td>
|
||||
</tr>
|
||||
<tr>
|
||||
<td epub:type="z3998:persona">Clerk</td>
|
||||
<td>We claim to deliver messages quicker than the post-office, ma’am. You can send ten words to Waco for twenty-five cents.</td>
|
||||
</tr>
|
||||
<tr>
|
||||
<td epub:type="z3998:persona">Young lady</td>
|
||||
<td>Give me another blank, please: I guess that will be enough. <i epub:type="stage-direction">After five minutes’ hard work she produces the following: “Ring was awfully lovely. Come down as soon as you can. Mamie.”</i></td>
|
||||
</tr>
|
||||
<tr>
|
||||
<td epub:type="z3998:persona">Clerk</td>
|
||||
<td>This contains eleven words. That will be thirty cents.</td>
|
||||
</tr>
|
||||
<tr>
|
||||
<td epub:type="z3998:persona">Young lady</td>
|
||||
<td>Oh, gracious! I wanted that nickel to buy gum with.</td>
|
||||
</tr>
|
||||
<tr>
|
||||
<td epub:type="z3998:persona">Clerk</td>
|
||||
<td>Let’s see. You might strike out, “awfully,” and that will make it all right.</td>
|
||||
</tr>
|
||||
<tr>
|
||||
<td epub:type="z3998:persona">Young lady</td>
|
||||
<td>Indeed I sha’n’t. You ought to see that ring. I’ll give you the thirty cents.</td>
|
||||
</tr>
|
||||
<tr>
|
||||
<td epub:type="z3998:persona">Clerk</td>
|
||||
<td>To whom is this to be sent?</td>
|
||||
</tr>
|
||||
<tr>
|
||||
<td epub:type="z3998:persona">Young lady</td>
|
||||
<td>It seems to me you are rather inquisitive, sir.</td>
|
||||
</tr>
|
||||
<tr>
|
||||
<td epub:type="z3998:persona">Clerk</td>
|
||||
<td><i epub:type="z3998:stage-direction">wearily</i> I assure you there is no personal interest expressed in the question. We have to know the name and address in order to send the message.</td>
|
||||
</tr>
|
||||
<tr>
|
||||
<td epub:type="z3998:persona">Young lady</td>
|
||||
<td>Oh, yes. I didn’t think of that. <i epub:type="z3998:stage-direction">She writes the name and address, pays the thirty cents and departs. Twenty minutes later she returns, out of breath.</i></td>
|
||||
</tr>
|
||||
<tr>
|
||||
<td epub:type="z3998:persona">Young lady</td>
|
||||
<td>Oh, I forgot something. Have you sent it off yet?</td>
|
||||
</tr>
|
||||
<tr>
|
||||
<td epub:type="z3998:persona">Clerk</td>
|
||||
<td>Yes, ten minutes ago.</td>
|
||||
</tr>
|
||||
<tr>
|
||||
<td epub:type="z3998:persona">Young lady</td>
|
||||
<td>Oh, I’m so sorry. It isn’t the way I wanted it at all. Can’t you telegraph and have it changed for me?</td>
|
||||
</tr>
|
||||
<tr>
|
||||
<td epub:type="z3998:persona">Clerk</td>
|
||||
<td>Is it anything important?</td>
|
||||
</tr>
|
||||
<tr>
|
||||
<td epub:type="z3998:persona">Young lady</td>
|
||||
<td>Yes: I wanted to underscore the words “awfully lovely.” Will you have that attended to at once?</td>
|
||||
</tr>
|
||||
<tr>
|
||||
<td epub:type="z3998:persona">Clerk</td>
|
||||
<td>Certainly, and we have some real nice violet extract; would you like a few drops on your telegram?</td>
|
||||
</tr>
|
||||
<tr>
|
||||
<td epub:type="z3998:persona">Young lady</td>
|
||||
<td>Oh, yes: so kind of you. I expect to send all my telegrams through your office, you have been so accommodating. Good morning.</td>
|
||||
</tr>
|
||||
</table>
|
||||
</section>
|
||||
</body>
|
||||
</html>
|
||||
|
||||
@ -10,12 +10,16 @@
|
||||
<h2 epub:type="title">Leap Year Advice</h2>
|
||||
<p>Spinsters must be up and doing: 1896 will be the only leap year for the next eight years. Once in every four years the wise men who made the calendar insert an extra day so that the average year will not be so short. Once in every hundred years this extra day is omitted, and a leap year is also dropped. The year 1900 will not be a leap year. Unmarried ladies who yearn for matrimonial chains, and have been left standing in the comer by fickle man must get to work. If they fail in landing their prize during 1896 they will have to wait eight years more before they can propose again. Therefore they should work early and late during the present year.</p>
|
||||
<p>The following communication pertaining to the subject was received yesterday.</p>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>Houston, Texas, January 1, 1896.</p>
|
||||
<p>The Houston Post.</p>
|
||||
<p>Gentlemen: This being leap year I arose this morning at daybreak, resolved to utilize every moment of the time possible. Four years ago, I wrote and received some very valuable advice from you in regard to the exercise of the privileges of my sex (female) during the leap year season. I followed your advice strictly, and in the year 1892 proposed marriage to twenty-seven different men. I am still single, but am not to blame for that. I was engaged to three men in 1892, and, but for the unforeseen bad luck, would certainly have married at least one of them. Two of them committed suicide the day before the wedding and the other got his hat and walking cane and went to Patagonia. I see in the papers that the year 1900 will not be a leap year, and I realize that for the next twelve months I have got to carry on a red hot aggressive campaign, as eight more years will decidedly weaken my chances. Any suggestions you may make that will aid me will be appreciated. I enclose my photo. I am nearly thirty-six, and sleep on my left side.</p>
|
||||
<p>Faithfully yours,</p>
|
||||
<p>Bettie Louis M⸺</p>
|
||||
<blockquote epub:type="z3998:letter">
|
||||
<header>
|
||||
<p epub:type="se:letter.dateline">Houston, Texas, January 1, 1896.</p>
|
||||
<p epub:type="z3998:recipient">The Houston Post.</p>
|
||||
</header>
|
||||
<p><span epub:type="salutation">Gentlemen</span>: This being leap year I arose this morning at daybreak, resolved to utilize every moment of the time possible. Four years ago, I wrote and received some very valuable advice from you in regard to the exercise of the privileges of my sex (female) during the leap year season. I followed your advice strictly, and in the year 1892 proposed marriage to twenty-seven different men. I am still single, but am not to blame for that. I was engaged to three men in 1892, and, but for the unforeseen bad luck, would certainly have married at least one of them. Two of them committed suicide the day before the wedding and the other got his hat and walking cane and went to Patagonia. I see in the papers that the year 1900 will not be a leap year, and I realize that for the next twelve months I have got to carry on a red hot aggressive campaign, as eight more years will decidedly weaken my chances. Any suggestions you may make that will aid me will be appreciated. I enclose my photo. I am nearly thirty-six, and sleep on my left side.</p>
|
||||
<footer>
|
||||
<p epub:type="z3998:valediction">Faithfully yours,</p>
|
||||
<p epub:type="z3998:signature">Bettie Louis M⸺</p>
|
||||
</footer>
|
||||
</blockquote>
|
||||
<p>This is an awful subject to speak lightly upon, and the few words of advice we propose giving are sincere and well weighed.</p>
|
||||
<p>Your photograph shows that whatever you do must be done quickly. A good way for a lady of your age and cut of collar bones to open New Year would be with prayer and massage. It may be a defect in the retouching of your photo, but still, it would not be amiss to take a good Turkish bath and then go over low places with plaster of Paris applied with a common case knife with gentle downward motion, breathing as usual, and dry in the sun, turning over frequently two or three hours before eating. You should not waste any time in selecting a man. Try the milkman first, as he generally comes before it is very light.</p>
|
||||
|
||||
@ -8,8 +8,8 @@
|
||||
<body epub:type="bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||||
<section id="chapter-40" epub:type="volume se:short-story">
|
||||
<h2 epub:type="title">Answers to Inquiries</h2>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>Dear Editor: I want to ask a question in arithmetic. I am a school boy and am anxious to know the solution. If my pa, who keeps a grocery on Milam Street, sells four cans of tomatoes for twenty-five cents, and twenty-two pounds of sugar, and one can of extra evaporated apples and three cans of superior California plums, for only—</p>
|
||||
<blockquote epub:type="z3998:letter">
|
||||
<p><span epub:type="salutation">Dear Editor</span>: I want to ask a question in arithmetic. I am a school boy and am anxious to know the solution. If my pa, who keeps a grocery on Milam Street, sells four cans of tomatoes for twenty-five cents, and twenty-two pounds of sugar, and one can of extra evaporated apples and three cans of superior California plums, for only—</p>
|
||||
</blockquote>
|
||||
<p>There! There! little boy; that will do. Tell your pa to come around and see the advertising manager, who is quite an arithmetician, and will doubtless work the sum for you at the usual rates.</p>
|
||||
</section>
|
||||
|
||||
@ -10,20 +10,40 @@
|
||||
<h2 epub:type="title">A Slight Mistake</h2>
|
||||
<p>An ordinary-looking man wearing a last season’s negligee shirt stepped into the business office and unrolled a strip of manuscript some three feet long.</p>
|
||||
<p>“I wanted to see you about this little thing I want to publish in the paper. There are fifteen verses besides the other reading matter. The verses are on spring. My handwriting is a trifle illegible and I may have to read it over to you. This is the way it runs:</p>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>Spring</p>
|
||||
<p>The air is full of gentle zephyrs,</p>
|
||||
<p>Grass is growing green;</p>
|
||||
<p>Winter now has surely left us.</p>
|
||||
<p>Spring has come, I ween.</p>
|
||||
<p>When the sun has set, the vapors Rise from out the meadows low;</p>
|
||||
<p>When the stars are lit like tapers Then the night winds chilly blow.</p>
|
||||
<blockquote epub:type="z3998:poem">
|
||||
<header>Spring</header>
|
||||
<p>
|
||||
<span>The air is full of gentle zephyrs,</span>
|
||||
<br/>
|
||||
<span class="i1">Grass is growing green;</span>
|
||||
<br/>
|
||||
<span>Winter now has surely left us.</span>
|
||||
<br/>
|
||||
<span class="i1">Spring has come, I ween.</span>
|
||||
</p>
|
||||
<p>
|
||||
<span>When the sun has set, the vapors</span>
|
||||
<br/>
|
||||
<span class="i1">Rise from out the meadows low;</span>
|
||||
<br/>
|
||||
<span>When the stars are lit like tapers</span>
|
||||
<br/>
|
||||
<span class="i1">Then the night winds chilly blow.</span>
|
||||
<br/>
|
||||
</p>
|
||||
</blockquote>
|
||||
<p>“Take that stuff up to the editorial department,” said the business manager shortly.</p>
|
||||
<p>“I have been up there already,” said the ordinary-looking man, “and they sent me down here. This will fill about a column. I want to talk with you about the price. The last verse runs this way:</p>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>Then it is that weakening languors Thicken in our veins the blood</p>
|
||||
<p>And we must ward off these dangers Ere we find our names are “Mud.”</p>
|
||||
<blockquote epub:type="z3998:poem">
|
||||
<p>
|
||||
<span>Then it is that weakening languors</span>
|
||||
<br/>
|
||||
<span class="i1">Thicken in our veins the blood</span>
|
||||
<br/>
|
||||
<span>And we must ward off these dangers</span>
|
||||
<br/>
|
||||
<span class="i1">Ere we find our names are “Mud.”</span>
|
||||
</p>
|
||||
</blockquote>
|
||||
<p>“The reading matter that follows is, as you see, typewritten, and easily read. Now, I—”</p>
|
||||
<p>“D⸺n it,” said the business manager. “Don’t you come in here reading your old spring poems to me. I’ve been bored already to-day with a lot of ink and paper drummers. Why don’t you go to work instead of fooling away your time on rot like that?”</p>
|
||||
|
||||
@ -7,11 +7,13 @@
|
||||
</head>
|
||||
<body epub:type="bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||||
<section id="chapter-71" epub:type="volume se:short-story">
|
||||
<h2 epub:type="title">Revenge</h2>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>The man, woman, child, or animal who pens “Postscripts” for the Houston Post is a weird, wild-eyed genius and ought to be captured and put on exhibition with the “nameless things” they are taking out of the government well at San Marcos. There is certainly a reward for both specimens.</p>
|
||||
<p>—Kyle <i>Star-Vindicator</i>.</p>
|
||||
</blockquote>
|
||||
<header>
|
||||
<h2 epub:type="title">Revenge</h2>
|
||||
<blockquote epub:type="z3998:epigraph">
|
||||
<p>The man, woman, child, or animal who pens “Postscripts” for the Houston Post is a weird, wild-eyed genius and ought to be captured and put on exhibition with the “nameless things” they are taking out of the government well at San Marcos. There is certainly a reward for both specimens.</p>
|
||||
<cite>—Kyle <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">Star-Vindicator</i>.</cite>
|
||||
</blockquote>
|
||||
</header>
|
||||
<p>Although we can stand a great deal, this attack has goaded us to what is perhaps a bitter and cruel, but not entirely an unjustifiable revenge. Below will be found an editorial from the last number of the Star-Vindicator:</p>
|
||||
<p>“Spring, with her magic word of music, pathos, and joy, has touched a thousand hills and vales, has set a million throats to warbling; sunshine, song, and flowers bedeck every altar and crown each day more glorious. Imperial spring is here—the brightest, gayest, and best of all God’s seasons. Springtime is like the little child—crowned with its own purity and love not tarnished and seared with the hand of Time. It is like the bright, sparkling miniature rivulet that bursts from the mountain side and goes merrily over the shining pebbles before it hastens into a dark, deep, dangerous river. The sweet cadence of music, the scent of wafted perfumes, the stretch of glorious landscape, radiated and beautified with lovely gems of Oriental hue, catch our attention at every step. The world to-day is a wilderness of flowers, a bower of beauty, and millions of sweet native warblers make its pastures concert halls, where we can go in peace at even-time, after the strife, the toil, the disappointments, and sorrows of our labors here and gather strength, courage, and hope to meet on the morrow life’s renewed duties and responsibilities.</p>
|
||||
</section>
|
||||
|
||||
Loading…
Reference in New Issue
Block a user