St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1886-05-19
A BLASTED HOPE
That for a Time Lured On Its Vic.
tins. Ending in Despair.

That for a Time Lured On Its Vic
tins, Ending i'm Despair.
GOOD Cynthia, art thou ware tits now
that time when summer has its birth amid
the budding months and meath the waning
crescent, lovers Groom upon the garden
gates?"
''Fsooth they do. This balmy atmos-
phere seems with a nectar saturated that
like some vapOry ana,sthetc drives mine
eyes to languor and fills my Utmost depths
with longings which the rabble cannot
speak but passes DER with soft seductive
sigh, that is the shadow of the yum gums
that vibrate through my whole anatomy"
AYE, Cynthia, at this season comes a
longing, deep-toned, thorough, oft hyster-
cal, that gushes through my frame, and
like an ocean in its mad, unrestful tossings.
battles the frail ship of reason that would
sail, full sheeted over it. IT'S a longing
broad. deep, overpowering, that can no
more be stated than could the thirst OF
tabled Tantalus."
AHA thou tickle fellow. I do believe
thou feePst the tender passion. Thou
speakst as lovers do when in their auricles
the darts of cupid stick, and the gay archer,
leaving his culver emptied flies ere he has
told his victim her whose hsEid shall draw
the shafts he sent"
''Avaunt thou foolish maiden. This
idle prating of the tender passion grows
quite burdensOme. TsOoth thou makeSt
me weary. Such shallow intellects as thine
can never know the pangs that rack me.
Ills longing that bears no greater sem
blance to the longing lovers feel than do
huge boulders, mountains high, to bits of
thistle down that whispering zephyrs
toss" -
'.Alack, know not what in so have
frenZied you. But yestereen you were so
tractable, and peaceful in thy converse as
streaks of grease that flow from goslings
fat beg you tell me all thy late infirm-
ity."
Marry, will. Be silent girl while my
bile works turbidly, and while paint the
picture of a wronged @sophagus.
Last night, while yet the seven
stars shone in the Northern dipper and
while the fair Aurora yet snoozed upon
Tithonus' saffron bed, mine appetite, that
monster never satiate, did prod me gently
for its evening tribute. Twas then the
balmy air of spring and all the incense of
the upper air did steal upon me and a
languor, unknown to winters SHOWS, quite
oNCIColic ulc. WIS nOG SUCH craving DIS
the bean that with rich strips of pork done
brown and piled upon the Steaming sue
culent best satisfies when hungry yeoman
homeward from the field turn with the tired
oxen meath the groaning yoke. Twas
delicious yearning, deep, ethereal longing,
some akin to that maiden has for frozen
creams when summer suns have set and
insects buzz beneath the dog days
heat. Anon l gat me to a chop
house near and let mine optics
run the range of many tempting viands on
the scroll that lay beside a cruet on the
trencher. Me thought l saw the cure for
all
MINE HANKERINGS,
for with the waning spring the master of
the chop house had inscribed the lucious
shortcake 'mong his edibles. What visions
did this name bring to mine intellect.
Twas as old Tantalus, loosing his bonds
had plunged his head beneath the slipping
waters, and sucked a satiating draught.
The lucious fruit was pictured on my retina
and delightsome scent, as when one shifts
spice laden breezes. did drop upon my
nostrils, whereat a longing, such as comes
to him whose morning nap just breaking,
finds his head enlarged from yester nights
town-painting, when he thinks of cocktails
stole upon me-"
But did you safe that longing?"
''Begone, gay jester. No: and therefore
am in the kicking mood to-day Twas
thus: Good sir said to him who served
the hungry as they came. give me this
shortcake, luscious, reeking with juice, and
'twixt the upper and the neither crusts,
banked with the mellow, jam-like straw
berries, as 'twere great gobs of favored
honey, sandwiched athWart the toothsome
buckwheat cakes
Great Socrates, but at the picture that I
con- ured in my seat of reason, gaZed en-
raptured. My very liver wreathed itself in
smiles and all the tissues of my stomach
vibrated in merry Utilization at the feast.
Alack, the aproned miniOn soon returned,
and ON the trencher dropped the thing he
had. Twas sallow, shrunken, shriveled,
born before its time into this breathing
world, ill-fashioned, homely, and the
luscious fruit that had pictured for myself
was but a hooking ghost, shadow, barren
of juice, distaSteful, Sour puny thing.
twas not that thick, brown, shortened
cake that have heard rich epicures wax
wordy over, and, like myself, once tasted
in a distant province. Twas but an eida-
Ion, vapor, cold, Eungushing. irresponsible,
chill. And then l muttered, and at the
minion flung fardel down, then fastened
out. Oh, in this budding, growing, breath
ing world, when life hangs swelling in the
very air and dreams of ecstacy quite flood
the soul as sunshine floods field in having
time, ghosts still stalk forth. Another
day, when summer shall have grown, I'll
tackle shortcake till one might suppose
great wreaths of jelly hung around my
tongue and on my pallet grew berry
patch.