Bismarck weekly tribune., 1888-12-07
SHAM AND PRETENSE.
A BRIEF LOOK AT OUR OWN PLEAS
ING PERSONALITIES.

What Our Rich Men Have Done-The
Dude Who Made Believe He Was .
sailor-A Fancy "Colonel" in 1861.
Only Veneer.
But come little nearer home.
Let's take look at our own pleasing per-
sonalities. Do we wear wigs, false teeth,
tight shoesG Do we wear high heeled boots
to deceive our neighbors as 20 our height
Do we pull in our waists and pad out our
bustsa Do we wear funny things behind, in
the absurd endeavor to persuade people who
know better that the Lord made us different
from what he did make usa You remember,
don't you, a few years ago. when our dear
sisters wore little humps on their shouldersl
That was the funniest fashion I ever knew.
Every woman tried to make everybody else
believe that on each shoulder she had little
hump. Now, all women, and majority Of
men, know that no women was ever born
with a little hump on either shoulder, let
alone on both.
Our rich men are curious creatures. They
have ornamented, beautifed, solidded our
streets and those Of every significant city in
the land by magnificent structures, semi
hotels, and they have pandered to a fast
growing sentiment in this land of the free,
which seems to ape foreign affairs by giving
to these structures names which mean some
thing on the other side of the ocean, but
which here are bloomingly idiotic Our
great apartment houses here are called the
Buckingham, the Rockingham, the Sand
ringham, the Belvidere and SO on.
THOUGHT HE WAS SAILOR
was sitting on the broad piazza of sum-
mer hotel about an hour ago, when curious
creature came from the inner recesses and
stood in the doorway. On his head was
sailors cap He wore flannel shirt with
wide turnover collar and anchors embroid-
cred on the ends Gilt buttons made his
attire more conspicuous, but what attracted
my attention more especially were the creases
down the middle of his trousers, which by
the way were turned up about two inches
from the bottom, revealing pretty pair of
black silk stockings and neatly fitting patent
leather pumps. He was dude from Dude
vile, a darling escpaed from the bandbox,
yet he thought he was sailor, and that the
effect produced upon the guests of the hotel
was that of rollicking, jolly, pipe smoking
tar.
"oAASC1SA 90 AOOhCu dV 11111 WQdU u0
would do with those pumps and those silk
stockings and his pretty trousers in storm
He apparently had about as much muscle as
a fresh water clam, and queried how many
ropes his bejewelled fingers could handle in
a moment of necessity or of danger.
Whom did he deceive?
He knows perfectly well he is no sailor, and
he knows that everybody who looks at him
knows that he is no sailor. As looked at
him, my mind ran back to the stormy days
in 1861, when, with one foot on the sturdy
solidity of peace and prosperity, the nation
put its other foot forward upon the threshold
of a five years war, with its blood and tur-
MOL. Twas sitting in the Office of Williard's
hotel' in Washington. The great corridor
was packed with angry men, eagerly discuss
ing what must be done. Forcing his way
through the dense mass, young gentleman
in the full uniform of colonel, approached
the desk and registered his name, appended
to which were the words, 'spaymaster Of the
state of New York" By his side clinked a
sword. On his shoulders were glittering
epaulettes. Brass buttons were all over him,
and his cap was cooked over his right eye,
with a real 1861 swagger. Col Mansfield sat
near me, then bronzed veteran with a
record, and Rosecrans, then think a colonel.
also was at the desk settling bill, ere he de-
parted for the extreme west