32~11r 1 1 AS A GIRL.
w
SVish‘t I wus a gurl,
Stid uv b in‘ a boy, . .
An’ ban;r my hair. an’ ca"; ice cream,
Au‘ ride chind my feller‘s team,
Like gurls dua—
i’ish‘t I wuz a gurll
“’ish‘t I wus :i' gurl.
An‘ when’t conic. Sunday nite
I’d Whack that old planner,
Just clean up outcn site,
Anl l‘d marry sum rich feller,
. Like girls duz—
i" \Yish’t I wuz a gurll
VVish’t I wus a {Ii 1,
I’d cliaw gum an‘ talk,
A11” when out to.“ promenod
I’d take up all the. walk
Like some girls duz
\\ ish t I 11 uz a. gurll
’ish‘t I wus a gi 1-1, .
All boys good for is‘t
Ter carry coal an‘ run odd jobs
An” git oil? the walk for dudy snobs
“‘ , Likc Idid t‘other nilie—
’ "Vii-"1" \‘y’ish‘t I wuz a gurll
‘Wish‘t‘ I wus a gurl,
\Vish‘t the Lord made all boys gurls,
An’ made tr1111s boy s tud hen the same
An I 11 been L: zy Ann by name.
An’ She’d ben John or Joe stid of Jane,
\V isl1 t he had—
“ ish t I w uza 'tgurll
—-Bradford (Pa. ) Era.
”1953‘
LIEUTENANT IN LOVE
“In love, Lieutenant?" I cried, al-
most starting from my seat, so greatly
had he surprised me.
My Friend Swash generated a great
cloud of smoke in his pipe and it so en-
veloped his head that I could not see
his face, deeply flushed as it must have
been, and from t .1e cloud of gray vapor
came the gruff reply:
"Yes, in love, confound it!”
“Oh, how interesting!” exclaimed my
wife, dropping her magazine and look-
ing up at my friend and myself, whom
she had always previously declared to
be the most uninteresting when we got
together over our pipes.
It is not very pleasant for me,” mut-
tered Swash. He was greei‘ly embar-
rassed and fixed his eyes pensively on
the floor.
“\Vhere is he1 home?" I asked.
“I don tl (now, ” he answered brusque-
13'.
“Where does she live?" muttered my
wife. I...
“Don‘t. know that.”
“YVhere did you meet her?" said I.
“ Can’t tell you that either, Dockhoy.
Don't- think me disagreeable. If I
1 ould, I would gladly answer your
questions. Indeed, I wish that I was
able to.”
‘ Your case is truly a strange 011e,” I
told. “Is this young woman purely an
. ieal, a mental cre ttion of your own?
,‘I'ou have be en melancholy enough of
hate to have been sighing for something
more material.”
"She is not a mere creation of my
imagination,” replied the Lieutenant
solemnly. “She exists—«where I don’t
know. I saw her once a great way off
and she realized all my ideals of the
woman I would make Mrs. Swash.
-‘1111dwhen I saw her, for an instant,
th ongh it was, I cried to my self, ‘Here,
.. ‘wash, is the woman you have dreamed
f all these years. That soft, intellec-
tual face these soulful eyes, those belong
to the woman you have been waiting
for." Then she was gone, from where
and whither I don’t know, for I can’t
tell where I a .v her.”
“Your case is really most remark-
able,” I sail. “Explain. Don’t sur-
round yourself with such an air of
mystery. It would relieve you to con-
fide your troubles in us. Perhaps we
could help you.”
“Yes, indeed,” cried my wife enthu-
siastically. . Perhaps we can help you.”
Swash started. “Ah, yes! Where
did Ileave off? Perhaps you can—~in-
deed, yes."
“Perhaps we can assist you,
yeated.
“I think not, Dockboy, ’he said, hav~
ing recovered himself. “For my case
is truly rer .aikable. I have swept the
skies with . a telescope and cannot find
her. 1 have walked the streets day and
night, scrutinizing thous 1nds of win-
dows and still have not a trace of her.
”3:011 see I saw her under the most pecu-
liar circumstances. but see her I did and
llost my heart. From a satisfied bach
elor of 50 I have been metamorphosed
into a lovelorn, disappointed, unhappy
—--I can t get a word to fit my case.”
"1 our use of a telescope is queer," I
interrupte-cl.. “I have suspected all along
that you saw her in the skies.”
“Youhave guessed my secret,” he
said inournfuliy. Inexplicable 'as it
:-.ee1ns, that is just where I saw her, and
she was not ina balloon, either. This
idea that-I, crusty bachelor, that I have
been, am. absolutely devoid of sentiment
is incorrect. In my life I have met wo-
men, hundreds of them, many beauti-
ful, many charming, and perhaps not
> insensible to my own good points.
Against them my heart has been proof.
This is not because I am callous to we
man’s charms, but because I long have
had the belief that somewhere in the
word one was waiting for me; an ideal.
I. pictured her to myself not in my
«2'; reams, but in my wideawake moments,
as I sat alone with my pipe. At such
nines. she became so real that she
reemed to .be beside me as I smoked; so
”real that I. almost felt that if I spoke
she would answer, but I was deterred
:rom experimmting by the belief that
with such. a One silence has more
charms than Speech. I have no doubt,
Dickboy, that'long before you ever met
your wife you saw her face gazing be
nignly on you from a cloud of tobacco
smoke.”
"Ughl cried my wife.
.pipes.
“Now it happened that one night
about a week ago I was walking down
Broadway on the way to my boarding
house,” continued my friend. I‘flt
seems to me that I had '0 :en up here to
see you. At Fortiech ‘aleet, as ill-luck
would have it, I ran a.ro.s one o.‘ those
itinerant astronomer, w..o and set up a.
telescope on the pavement an. l1u.:g ou.
arsmall Si, ,1) Cad 1.1g attention 11; the
act that :31: 1.11 .In .0115 1' '.1 ,4 Corner :11
won lo i'1'.‘.:,,cez1.s. ,1-...'....1~.:
calland I. kindof .41.... 4 I...
” I re-
She - hates
.iluhl:
_ but
low. It had never been my for one to
~'-:ze on Saturn and her rings, so I
step pod up, gave him a nickel and fixed
my eye at the end of the instrument.
At first all was blackness. ‘I can’t see
the ring,’ said I. ‘The lens is not ad-
justed,’ replied the astronomer. And
with that he began to turn a lot of
screws. The blackness gave way to a
hazy, gray light, that Isuspected was
from a theatre across the s,treet but I
said nothing but strained my optic
nerve to make out the planet. 'It was
of no 1;-e. I withdrew my eye and com-
plained. The astronomer then discov-
ered that the instrument was pointed
wrong, and he looked through it. low-
ered one end and gave it a turn.
."My eye was at the instrument again
but no change was visible in the make-
up of the heavens beyond a marked in-
crease of light. Once more I com-
plained, and the man declared Imust
be nearsighted. ‘Look harder, ' he said,
giving the machine a little twist. And
I looked harder, but instead of Saturn
I saw clearly a woman— my ideal,
she whom for years Ihad pictured in
my smoking moments. There she was
Sitting at a window, one arm resting on
the sill, her hand on her chin, her
eyes looking directly into mine.
Even in the half-light, every fea-
ture was clearly discernable; there
was the soft black hair wavmg
across a white forehead; the eyes, deep
and full of immeasurable good things;
the nose, the mouth, everything that
I had been seeking for. I gave an ex
clamation of joy.
" ‘You see her now, sir? Do these
rings show up good?‘ This remark
hour the astronomer brought to mind a
forgotten fact. I saw her through a
telescope; where was that window that
1 could seek her out? I had found her.
Better never to have seen her, than
under such appalling conditions. There
she was, gazing calmly at me from the
other end of a long tube. I could al-
most touch her and reached out my
hand.
" ‘I-Iold 011 there 1’ cried the astrono-
mer. ‘You‘ll upset the machine.’
“My involuntary movement to cm-
brace what was not them did indeed
disarrauge the apparatus, and so badly
that she disappeared, and where she
had been, a star winking at me. AS
it" I cared for stars”. _
“I paid for five more looks at Saturn.
could find nothing. I11 vain l.
swept the skies. and the housetops
and windows with the telescope. and
with my naked eye. She had vanished.
I \ cnthome disconsolate. As surely as
I sit here. Dockboy, I saw her. It was
not a hallucination. She was sitting
inareal window within the range of
that telescope; but where I don t know,
and perhaps never will know. My
ideal has become a reality, but under
what-trying circumstances Do you
wonder that I am miserable?"
“I surely do not,” I said. “If what
you have told is true and not a mere
ima gination. ”
"How romantic l” cried my wife.
Lieut. Swash sighed.
Not long afterward my friend and I
were at the corner from rhich' he
had viewed his ideal in the flesh. The
itinerant astronomer was there, too,
with his telescope pointed heavenward
in readiness for use. He greeted my
companion pleasantly, and apparently
had been expecting him.
“Maybe you'll see that planet you've
been looking for to- night,” he said.
“I’ve cleanel off the lenses so they’ll
1761C:
Y tvv
'work better.”
“Planet! Beautiful luminary, ra-
ther," muttered the Lieutenant, stop
ping and screwing his eye into the end
of the telescope. “I can see nothing
but blackness now. Lower the other
end just a little—there. ” He began ad-
justing screws with the skill of one ini-
tiated into the mysteries of the heavens.
"Allmv me to try the glass,” I said.
“My dear fellow,” he cried. “It is of
no use. “If I can t find it, after search-
ing every night for weeks, you can ’t.
There is nothing in sight. It’s only a
question of patience, of waiting until it
again appears.”
“Let me try,” I said peremptorily.
I-Ie acceded to my request. With the
assistance of the astronomer I got the
instrument in the desired position,
fixed my eye to it, and focussed it.
“Pshaw,” cried Swash, impatiently,
“you’re looking right down Broad-
way.” ,_ .
“Them's electric lights, sir, not
planets,” ventured the astronomer po-
litely.
These remarks had no effect on me.
I bided my time. At length it came.
“Swash, don’t be excited,” I said;
“but just fix your eye here.”
“It’ L,'-.1i11,”he cried, before he
had his opt1c thoroughly adjusted.
You’1erin‘ht Dockboy, we’ve got her.
Now mark where the telescope points
to. Don’t lose it. Get the direction.”
“Have you read what is below the
window?" said I.
“Jove!” he muttered. “ ‘Miss Maxy
Mumps, the actress, writes: “I have
used Dr. Hoaxer’s harmless hair tonic
and find it perfection.” ’ ”
"We’ve got her, Swash; we’ll spot a
window with that sign— why, confound
it, she’s gone i“
Swash straightened up and seized my
hand.
“Dockboy,” he whispered, so the as.
tonished Iastronom 11‘ could not hear,
"I ve found her, thanks to you. I can
Sher
spot her window by that sign if it’s
Within ten miles. ‘Miss Maxy Mu :n ps,
the actress—~—-’ ”
“Look again, ” I said quietly, “and
tell me what you see.”
Once more he look ed, but only for a
second.
“Confound it!" he cried. “Am I
crazy? I saw a girl 011 a bicycle and
under it letters saying that if you bike
you should ride a Duster”
“Gentlemen ” interrupted the astron»
omer, "1m afraid you ain’t seen Sat-
uin, nor no other planet. , You was
boning at that advertising canvas way
down Broad'Way.”
Lleui. swash has gone to the country
c. .1 low 0. ays.
1 HM"
is
To Subscribe for the ‘
AND
(48
Both Pacers Sent to one Address
for $I.OQ a Y ear
‘ him again.
V‘.’.ll..l.l"'."
£113 [‘1
DEAN [1.0V]:
TRUE: POET C?
Paul 15.1.1.2'cnce Dunbar. :1. Son of Former
Now the 2.13.: of the Literary
Soar: Sketches of
Slaves,
1'5 o-IILI OI Na? 102.;-
L'LEC- v. ui'II.
miesmf rocks nor crecds.
‘ 111 '1 a: ..s and human needs
Ll) 111. than piophets' deeds;
an rears and human cares
I..- .. ..-.:. more than human prayers.
12:11 110:1
lo:
(So, cease your wail, lugubrious saint!
‘I’ou fret high Heaven with your plaint.
ls this the "Christian‘s joy" you paint?
Is this the Christian’s‘boasted bliss?
I-‘Ivails your faith no more than this?
Take up your arms, come out with me,
Let Heav’n alone: humanity
~1’\1'ee\'151'1101e and Heaven less fr om thee.
\\ itb pity for mankind loolI’ r1111. n:l
Help them to rise—and lleaV‘c -n is found.
At last an intellectual bridge has
1 ,. .1.
been cast across the (11:15:21. cunning
the black from the white race! At
last, for the first time in the history of
this country—or, [so ‘l‘ar as we are
aware, in the‘ history of 2113‘ other
country—a man of pure Af1ic..:1 1112-311
has arisen to speak forl. 13s 1eopic in
the person of 2111'. .2111 l.z:"'.\1once
Dunbar.
P111. IIIN'REI: :3 nt‘xnnn.
11‘01'5'111‘111'211‘1 3'8112'111 11g this
s poem. :1
l
.
<-
11 the lead—
hoie on the
11111110 have men appearing
in; 1:1;15'3221105, but they
surface to (racial mark, and the fac
that scne Lrthc .. 1cm in the negro
dialec c: ted for nothiig, since
many 1' writers have attempted
that, 1 ’1 with less success. It
vns ‘1 refore, until a slender,
quiet, 151111.113; little volume of verse,
(latclcss, 1 ccless and without a pub-
lisher. dints'l out of the \cht and ac-
cidcntclly leached Mr. {swells—who
is always nick to see and never re-
luctant “o praise what is reallyg (100d—
that 11121. young ‘Ifio- American poet
was introduced to the larger audience
whiCh the importance of his work de-
served.
0111;:
then did it.
1 IIt
11-
become generally
known the. author was black,
that 11:: parents were slaves who
loainsd to read after they were free,
and that he himself had stood shoulder
to Sheri-12:1,:- with the heaviest laden of
his 1';1..2‘ Hg was educated in the public
schools of his birthplace, Dayton,
Ohio, .Ind was until recently an eleva-
tor boy.
As these facts came out the signifi-
cance of Mr. Dunbar’s poetry stood
revealed, and it was recognized not
only for its intrinsic worth, for its
lyrical beauty and metrical quality,
which are quite enough to lift it into
promlntnce, but as the first author-
i-tativs utterance of the inner life of a
race which had hitherto been dumb.
The little book thus voicing What had
never been before spoken was pri-
vately printed and called “Majors and
Minors,” the Majors being in English
and vibe Minors in dialect, sometimes
the dlalect of the Middle-South ne
groes and sometimes of the Middle-
South whites, and in the case of the
negro dialect reproduced with a per—
fection- that no white writer has at-
taincd.
These poems, covering a wide range
of thought and feeling, have been
gathered with a number of new poems
into a much larger volume soon to be
published by Dodd, Mead & Co.
TWO VIEWS OF THE FIRST TOOTH.
One ofthe Views “’as Odd, but Painfully
True.
“Orlando,” 5110 exclai mod, “the baby
has a tooth.”
“Has he?” was the response, in a
tone which betrayed 11o emotion.
“You don‘t seem a bit surprised.”
“I’m not surprised. All babies have
first teeth. If this one ’didn‘t have
any, I’d manage to get up some ex-
citement, maybe.”
“I thought you'd be pleased and
happy about it.”
.“No. I don‘t see that it’s any cc ra—
sion for special congratulation. The
baby has my sympathy.”
“Sympathy! What for?”
“For having his first tooth. He
has just struck the opening chapter
of a longstory of trouble. Pretty
soon he will have other teeth.”
“Or course he will.”
“Every one he cuts will hurt him.
Then his second teeth will come along
and push these out. That will hurt
Some of the new ones
will come in crooked, like as not, and
he will have to go to the dentist and
have a block and tackle adjusted to
them and haul them into line. Then
he’ll cut his wisdom teeth. That’ll’
hurt him some more. After that he’ll
have to go to the dentist and let him
drill holes and hammer until his face
feels like a great palpitating stone
quarry. I wouldn’t want him to go
through life without teeth. let I
must say that I don’t see any occa-
sion for the customary hilarity over
ai event that means so much in the
way of sorrow and. humiliation—De-
2e 1‘1'155. .,
1”qu
A
TAlLOR- MADE WOMEN
Fashions for the Season as They Are so
far Developed.
(By Special Arrangement with the N. Y. Sun. )
Lemon aie anxious to know what
to 1111 chase for the future and how
they shall have their wardrobe made.
Although the new styles are very ele-
gant, there seems 'to be a tendency to-
ward simplicity of material. As for
color, no one need despair of her favor—
ite color not being used, for every hue
will show itself this season. In Paris
vomcn are wearing red, 3. deep pink—
ish crimson, in which lingers a SUS-
piclon cf geranium and cerise. Many
of the cigar tints have acquired new
beauty this full, and Will be very much
in evidence, and all browns, greys and
fawns will lne more used than any
other shr- .dc for street wear for the
ea1ly gow 11s, outside of the beautiful
mixtures that are shownv in the
twceds. The new woollcns have the
bouclc effect introduced into almost all
the new fashions. I‘lain colors are
covered, with geometrical designs
formed by the black curling threads,
and the principal mixtures are black
blended either with red, lavender,
brown, green, royal blue, and petunia.
Often two of these are combined
with no intermixture of black. Some-
times the bouclc effect is thrown on in
misty checks or shaded stripes, and in
most of these there is a suggestion of
tartan, ..nd .111 of them are :,well cov—
ered with the black curl. This bouclc
72""
3-. 40-3. 5‘
effect is also thrown over the twecds
and on the mixed coatings. There are
also in the fall cloths many with large
checks, but most of them are softened
by the bouclc effect. Some have a
brocaded effect in two colors as well as
the curled threads. The old knicker-
bocker style, in which the threads in
the stripes become every now and
then rough and course, is once more
seen in the speckled tweed.
Besides the pure woollen goods,
there are a great many mixtures of
silk and wool. Another novelty is the
thick basket work cloth in black and
colors. Bright colored metallic effects,
like beads or ;pin points, are seen on
many of the black checks and the
chine zibelines with flower effects; but
notwithstanding all this, a great many
of the best dresses will be made in un-
The Scotch tweeds
figured material.
show great variety in design, and
there are many’diagonal tweeds with
a broad border of a distinct color, and
a shawl fringe. These the Parisians
are making up into dresses of many
kinds. They suggest the use of shawls,
so exactly do they resemble them."
Tailor-made gowns will be most pop-
ular among the very fashionable peo-
ple for clay wear, and they are more
severely tailor made than ever. 'The
coat or jacket fits closely to the hips
and many of the bodices button up to
the throat with a straight collar. Some
have a loose front with closely fitting
back and sides. Pretty vests are worn
with these made of white kid suede or
'glace, and they give unwonted style
to many light- tinted gowns.
\\
Norwalk Chronicler