St. Landry democrat., 1888-03-03
THE NEW YORK BOY.
Concerning Some of His Peculiar
characteristics.

The little New York boy is a unique
creation. Like Pegasus he has no mate.
He is not like the well-bred little
Washington boy; or the learned little
Boston boy; or the good little Philadel-
phia boyle is an artistic fusion of
them all, having an individuality as
potent and strong as Sarah Bern
hardt's. We have all seen him thou
sand times as he bounds buoyantly to
school, with an elasticity of step almost
rivaling that ascribed to young Vir-
.ginia by Lord Macaulay, and his shin
ing morning face all pink from the nip
ping, frosty air. He is always clean
and fresh at this hour. with his polo
cap pushed back from his smooth blonde
bang, his body, just lengthening out of
baby roundness buttoned snugly into
his REFER coat, his tight knickerbockers
with three buttons at the knee, his
long black stockings, his unnaturally
large feet in stout calf-skin boots, laced
with a leather thong, and his modest
pile of books dangling at the end of
strap. The innocence of babyhood is
still ON his face, the clear and candid
glance Of the pure child-soul yet in his
eyes. He is cherubic. The withered
old maid, with her cherished yellow
complexion, and the gathered front of
her bodice filled with airy receptions
like an empty cream-puff, pauses to
gaze wistfully after him, as he skips
whistling down the street. The heavy
eyed lounger, with his seedy hat on the
back of his head, and the tails of his
adress-coat dangling sheepishly down
below his light overcoat, turns, and
with his tremulous fingers rubbing his
sstubby chin, followed the dancing
figure with sad and haggard glance.
Both think pensiEely of what might
have been-bcing ignorant of what is.
The moving of CULVER by the Lii
putians is nothing compared to the
matutinal moving from his bed Of this
little boy. He sleeps soundly on his
face, with his round, sleek, blonde head
jammed fiercely into the pillow. As
the chatter of the breakfast dishes
sounds with acheerful promise through
the house, and the faint, seductive
aroma of coffee and hot rolls ascend
temptingly mp the staircase, the air is
suddenly filled with shrill feminine
cries:
"Bridget-where' Master Bertie?"
HE won't sthurr, mum, aven though
Ieive shuck him till I dim toireds'
BERTHE, Berthe ascending scale
..get up this minute you disgraceful,
lazy boy"
sHe's terrible. He won't stir. He'll
be late for school," says the head
nurse, signing despairingly.
"Bertie-get up. sir, cries mamma,
and dashes through the hallway into
Berries room, her long hair flying. and
an ivory-backed brush held warningly
in her hand.
Then arises ahnbbub of haranguing
feminine voices, which rouse BERTHE to
the extent Of uttering a long and lazy
groan, and turning over with slow,
beatified smile.
What shall do with him?'' says
mamma. In desperation. addressing
the ceiling. He'll be late for school
All the boys viii laugh at yon."
81 know it-but I don't mind. /
like It, comes soft drowsy murmur
from the depths OF the pillow.
..Arra now, git up, Burret- ain't yez
ashamedP' says the under nurse, coax
Ingly.
The head nurse resorts to action and
sweeps the eoverlets down, exposing
Bertie's lits;e lean legs, In all their I'M
blushing tenuity, twined about each