The weekly Portage sentinel. [volume] (Ravenna, Ohio) 1854-1861, 1858-09-16
stare, My Dear.

III q PuiPu every Ounudy anu expect u Oe
looked at? Count the wrinkles in his neck.
cloth, and the buttons on his vest observe
whether his eyes are black or blue, or both.
Satisfy yourself whether his profile is Greek
or Roman, and then tell your friends you
had no idea the Rev. Mr.. - was SO
plain-positively a dowdy. To be sure
Westinghouse, especially with stained win
dows, is great fatterer.
Stare, my dear, do stare she's widow.
Widows go into black. to be stared at, you
know. They like to have their grief furnish
food for impertinent curiosity. Ifshe smiles,
though it be with that sad, worn look, tell
your dear, five or FIVE hundred, as the case
may be, that you don't believe she cared
fig for her husband, and you shouldn't won
der if she was married in a month. Don't
scruple to stare very hard, her veil is thick,
SO as to see if she has really been weeping.
II she is pale, protest that you believe she
uses chalk for effect-if her lips are set
holding in her grief, declare that she has
been practicing "prunes and prisms." Don't
pity her widows are so common--why
should you! You didn't see that darkened
chamber. You didn't hear that dying fare
well--it was not your heart that grew cold
with anguish at the pressure of trembling
fingers, damp with death-dew.
Stare, my dear, do stare. That woman 10
worth hundred thousand. Only look at
her feed her vanity. Note her hounces
and the dress that cost not cent less than
one hundred h ard dollars. Keep staring, it's
polite. You don't often see such women
with their hard eyes and independent bear
ing--look your fill at riches, and then 60
home and tell what wonderful things you
have seen.
Stare, my dear, do stare. That's coun-
try girl. 1t is indeed Elevate your eye-
glass. Her bonnet cost dollar, and her
gown is cheap chintz. Oh you needn't
mind her annoyance, it's lady-like to stare
such things out of countenance, what else
do you wear a twenty dollar hat for 3
Nudge your neighbor and laugh aside at her
taste. Poor child how her cheek burns.
Never mind, ladies are privileged. !
Stare, my dear, do stare. That's Grip
pie. His feet are out of shape, and his back
is broken. See, his fine, dark eye falls as
you look he notes your smile and hobbies
TO get beyond you. He loves to be stared
at--deformed people generally do. They
like to feel their difference--to compare
their crooked bodies and withered limbs
with your straight forms and supple motions
They love to feel themselves so difFerent--it
is pleasant to be singular, you know--sc
do stare. Don't mind his bushes, his awk-
wardness. It's your privilege--and a free
country to back you up.
Stare, my dear, do stare. She's very
humble woman with basket of dirty clothes.
She really is honest, though poor, and virtu.
Gus. though needy. Don't abate your curl
osity because with an appealing look she
turns away, but keep on staring. She has
never known better days, so she won't mind
it--not at all. It's a proof that you take no.
tice of her. She hasn't any nerves--poor
people never have nerves. They expect to
to be looked at as if they were ourang.ou
tangs. They've got used to it, as Holsters
have to boiling water, as eels to being
skinned. Lobsters don't feel; eels don't
feel; ergo, poor people don't feel.
Stare, my dear, do stare. Stare at every.
body. If an author comes along, feed your
eyes upon his face till you have got the
gauge of every freckle, pimple or blemish.
Then whisper to your seven particular
friends, SO that their seven particular bon
nets may turn all at once as if on so many
harmonious pivots; it makes one feel ex.
ceedingly comfortable. Stare at everybody
that has reputation for celebrity from the
preparation of murder down to the perpetra.
ton of a paragraph. Most especially, my
dear, regale yourself with the deformed;
they are never sensitive. Some people say
they are, and compare them with the shrink.
ing leaf that curls away if the warm finger
comes but near it. All mistake; don't
you believe it, and SO withhold the glance oil
pit-(turned away, however)-. or even the
smile of derision. A needle is very sharp
when it enters the quivering flesh-but wha,
is feeling to flesh; nothing can hurt that, SC
stare, my dear. Keep your delicacy fol
those who are perfect; they need it most.
BISHOP JAMES SHor.-Bishop James, Of
the M. E. Church narrowly escaped death
in Indianapolis on Thursday: He was pass
ing along the street from the residence OIL
Bishop Ames, when he was struck in the
face by shot from gun carelessly fired by
some boy, and painfully wounded. The
shot entered the left cheek, and penetrated
the side of the nose. A surgeon soon ex.
tracted the shot.
n-A7suLIoprv Ala ynu oek Hickr for thoi