Rensselaer Journal, Volume 12, Number 10, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 14 August 1902 — Our Man About Town. [ARTICLE]

Our Man About Town.

W Discusses j Sundry \ and J Other Matters.

Unfortunately we were obliged to linger the other day near a window where a number of estimable ladles had gathered to sew and talk over the doings of the town. The occasion was a rain storm and the shelter was a tree; had it not been for the two this report would never have been written. However as these things were, and as the conversation was interesting and as the Man About Town coaid not avoid hearing it, there can certainly be no harm in bringing it into wider usefulness. During the bluster and patter of the rain one lady remarked that the Journal was just out and asked that some one read the paper. Let’s see what it says this week. Oh—why old Mr. Pumpkinnod is dead—ah—” “Read the obituary.” “Well, he—mum—mum—” she began reading to herself slowly, “he was a highly respected citizen—” “Did you ever?” cried a chorus “he never was respected by anybody.” “ —MumMarried in 57” “No he didn’t it was five years later.” “and was a member of church and fearless Christian.” “Did he belong? Didn’t work at his job,” volunteered another comely damsel. “And ‘he was a hard working prosperous citizen.’ ” “Goodness! Never worked a day in his life Prosperous? Had a crop of debts ” “He was a kindly old man” —“yes, cross as two sticks,” commented another lady, biting her thread, viciously—and—‘he was a philanthropist’ ”—“He never gave a cent to any good cause, girls,” added another. “ —and ‘many neighbors testify to the regard they §ver held for him’ ” “Why, I heard a neighbor say that nobody liked him,” said a sewer earnestly. “ ‘He was noble and pare; his morals were unimpeachable.’” “Blank dash dot dot dash,” said some one else sagely. “Yes, blank two dashes and four periods,” was the reply. “No; four blands, an asterisk, twelve dashes,” corrected a third. “Girls,” said the reader “this is certainly an untruthful paper. Of all I’ve read no one has found a statement really true. Now, suppose this long suffering editor had’ put the things we’ve said in the article how would It have looked? Wouldn’t we all have given the editor the very worst kind of a lashing? Perhaps, too, we are slandering one who was holier than any of us.” Just then the storm shifted and ceased operations so that the scribe could journey on. He missed the reply but the last words full of “milk and human kindness” warmed up his frozen system. %* A certain well to do lady living on

Main street Is as clever as she is comely as may be seen from the folj lowing tale of an adventure she had j last week. A peddler of the old Yankee type “hove” in sight from the front gate and the lady saw him from the kitchen window and laid for him. He had a lot of flytraps and things flung over his shoulder and when he got them spread at the good woman’s feet as she stood in the doorway she had collected her thoughts. “Good afternoon mum. I have here —” “Yes, I see,” she Interrupted, “but I don't want them. Have you a machine that will make old eggs fresh again?” “No, mum,” replied the astonished peddler, “I have—” “Well, have you any freezers that will make warm Ice cream?” “No, mum; I have —” “No? Have you any recipes for making strong butter weak?” “No, mam; but I—” “No? Have you any scales that will make heavy bread light?” “No’m, not to—” “Indeed? Have you any spectacles for crosseyed potatoes?” “Well, mum, it’s this way, you—” “Certainly I do. Have you a nice light straw hat for the head of the kitchen flour barrel?” “No, I—” “Gracious me,” she exclaimed sharply, “What have you got anyway? Nothing in the line of vats in which to tan tomato skins, have you?” v

The man began to gather hie traps together hurriedly. “What’s the matter?” she asked. “Aren’t you going to let me have a—” “Nothink, mum, nothink,” he muttered, “except the whole buck yard to yourself, and may heaven bless you and keep you in it.” And he fled out and slammed the gate while she smiled softly to herself and resumed her work paring potatoes. * A young lady well known here offered her father a new proof of her esteem a few weeks ago. Burglars have been troubling Rensselaer citizens lately and the girl thought she saw an opportunity to help. Girl—“Pa, the house next door was almost robbed last night.” Pa—Mercyl next door?” Girl—“ Yes, and the burglars have been in two or three houses on this street within a week.” Pa—“l know it! I know it! What can we do?” Girl—“l was thinking it might be a good plan for me and Mr to sit up a few nights and watch for them.” * * * A man, it is reported, who lives a few miles out on the gravel road bought a new and improved magazine rifle. He went out hunting, encountered seven wild Tom cats, emptied the magazine at them without effect, and threw the gun away and dispersed the felines with rocks. This, however, it must be confessed, sounds like a “cat story.” *** An observing man who is located in this community was talking to Man

About Town a few days ago about the morals of the town. In the course of the conversation he got rid of the following views which seem worthy of a place in the Journal. “What does a young girl know of life save what she hears and reads. I would rather take an innocent young creature through the worst part of New York City at midnight than put bad books in her hands at home, even though she is surrounded by all the culture and goodness the town of Rensselaer can afford her. There is but little romance and allurement in naked vice, but vice clothed by a poet’s fanoy, beautified by imagination, is another sort of thing. There is so much in a girl’s commencing right in the things Bhe reads. It ia really the making or marring of her whole future life. There are women around town today, who are forty years old, and still living in the pernicious books they read. They started with the florid literature of the Laura J. Libbys and Bertha M. Clays. They followed bad heroines, and now according to their diseased minds find themselves an improvement on the creatures they imitate. They are, if not actually vicious, silly, unnatural creatures whom everybody ridicules and no one respects. I know a young woman who has been acting out French novels all her days to the best of her ability, with the results of dressing like a guy when she means to be artistic, acting like a coarse woman when she means to be a siren, and talking absurdities when she means to be enchanting.” * * # We have gathered from best authorities vocabulary which is first taught a baby. Signs used are supposed to be easier than the regular words and have obtained favor everywhere—except with the babies. Man—mannyman. Horse—ponyhort. Cow—bossycowow. Boy—ittieboy. Dog—boowoowoo. Girl—dirly. Watch—ticktick. Stairs—fallyfall. Pin—ugh-nas-sy. Knife—hurty. Food—hungy. Milk—mick. Dress—coty. Book mussentear. Loye—bessit. Feet—tootsiewootsles. Hands—paddies. Finger-nails—tut-em-offs. Bird—flyaway. Hat—put-eon. Sleep—dowockwock.