Savannah courier. (Savannah, Tenn.) 1885-1979, 1885-12-03

for the staggering remark by the young
man. His face lights up with Joy at
the bargain he is offering you, and he
SAYS: Those beautiful hand-woven
handkerchiefs are only sixty dollars
dozen. Please look at them as the
light shines through them once more"
You do so this time with much rev.
erence, and ask, in an off-hand way,
what nose requires such pampering.
Many noses, the clerk win tell you;
among them that of Mr.. Whitney, the
Secretary of the Navy, who knows
good thing when he sees it, but who il
sometimes satisfied with goods as low
as forty-eight or fifty dollars dozen.
Some Of their best customers would not
condescend to take up any such bar
gain, and would fail to be suited in the
store, which just happens to be out of
the very finest grade of linen. This
grade, with a modest profit attached,
costs one hundred dollars for a dozen
handkerchiefs, or more If "a monogram
is desired. You sternly refuse to invest
in dozen of the bargains, even to pre-
sent to a friend, and then the young
man, rather more cheerfully than be-
fore, leads you with delicacy and grace
to the rear end of the store, and arrays
himself in a garment which he calls
wrapper, and which seems to have
been made of slice of rainbow, cut off
when the rainbow was in particularly
high-colored state. The main color is
delirious sky blue, with flowers of
all the colors you ever saw bios
soming on it, and vines of an aesthetic
assortment of tints that balk the
imagination. The young man explains
that the gentleman who has just laid
it down is one of family of German
bankers. He wanted present for
lady, and wanted something a trife
richer The price of that work of art
was only ninety dollars, and it would
soften the heart of any living female.
You explain that ninety dollars invested
in strawberry and vanilla mixed would
beat any wrapper in the opinion of your
girl, and the young man, concluding
that you are sordid, turns YEARLY away
and pulls down pair of cotton socks.
At last you feel at home. Here is a
cheap avenue of escape; you will buy
all the cotton socks in the store and
get away without wounding the young
man. But in the midst of your happy
thought your blood is chilled by the re.
quest to look at those socks as the light
shines through them. You know what
that means, and, sick at heart, you in
quire ''How much without caring
whether the light shines through
or not. Only thirty-two dollars a
Dozen" the young man says; "abso.
lutely the finest thing made in the
world" and he calls your attention to
the fact that with pair of the socks in
your right hand and piece of tissue
paper in the left hand you can not tell
the right hand from the left. No silk
sock could be woven as fine as that,
and many gentlemen will wear nothing
else. Their feet are so small that the
size of their shoes renders such socks
necessary.
Certainly, if you prefer silk sock.
you can have it," and the young man
hauls out endless pairs, each dream
of loneliness, from the rather inferior
article at three dollars pair, which he
could, of course, not recommend, to an
article that you will find serviceable
and satisfactory at seventy-two dollars
| a dozen.
If you escape the silk sock snare, you
are dazzled with series of snowy
white shirt bosoms of wonderful pat
terms; some curiously embroidered,
which you are confidentially warned
against wearing; others with little lin
en- knobs sticking out all over them, to
initiate the fashion of rough goods for
ladies', and others in the good old
styles that you have been used to.
Then comes the ordeal Of gazing on
what seems about one million cravats,
every one different; as many scarf
pins, and twice as many collars and
cuffs. Everything is from London or
Paris, with all sorts of coats of arms
stamped over foreign names. Roaring
beasts prowl around, uttering the sem
timent "Honi soft qui NAL y pense, ="
which is thrust at any one who may
not approve of their actions; and the
statement, "Ich dien," is always to be
found near the lions, with three little
feathers backing it up, the young man
tells you that "Honi soft qui
NAL y pense" is the ma of "Ich diem"
and that both wear just such gloves as
he is offering you. Under these cir
cumstances you knuckle down, invest
a weeks fun in pair Of gloves, with
three small mounds of black thread on
the back of each, and escape with sigh
toward the door. But it is plain you dc
not yet thoroughly know the young man
whom you despised. You fit nervous
ly past the eighty-dollar underwear
which first unsettled you, and glanoine
timidly around as you pass case filed
with canes you meet the smiling eye OF
the young man and it pins you. He
hands you beautiful cane with q
Chinese head of oxidized silver and a
queue braided of silver threads. Me.
chanically you raise it to the light and
beg to know how much dozen. But
as you frame the question you push up
the Chinaman's queue, and from the
Chinaman's mouth a jet of cologne
spray bursts forth and shoots into your
right eye.
AS you fly out into the cheap world
once more, rubbing your eye, you look
fondly at your handsome trousers, won
dering how much they would be worth
with the light shining through them
and contentedly wipe the tears from
your eyes with the handkerchief that
came at the rate of nine dollars and
thirty cents dozen.-N. Y. Sun.
A PARTISAN SYMBOL.