The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1889-01-31

Can you not see the two meeting after their
illness2 Can you not hear the gentle voice
t at congratuates him, and the earnest lone
in which he replies! Well, he got we'll, and
twelve hours afterward the doctor called and
toll her that he had gone east.
| tell you, there would be great many
more rOmances if they did not end IN such
a matter of fact way. Fate is with people 5
lives like the young woman who begins to
write a story. 1t seems to go a certain way
with them and then it drops them, or else
it suddenly becomes practical and makes
everything prosaic. Romance does not last.
You go to picnic and you meet lovely
girl and you have just the 81 eetest time in
the world under the trees and by the brook
side. And you are in kind OF poetic
dream until it comes time to go home, and
when you get to the ferry you make break
for your dinner You're too hungry to be
poetic The human stomach, come tothink
of it, is a sad destroyer of your romance.
Its prosaic call is 50 recurrent and SO I'M
perative / don't like to think of the shop
herds and shepherdesses of Acadia sitting
down to a meal of bread and buttermik.
There may be poetry compatible with eating
grapes, but even pears and apples and
oranges are only poetical when they are part
of the landscape. Few people can eat
oranges and feel comfortable without a
finger bowl
When you cope to think of it everything
in life seems to conspire against poetry. It's
all well to fancy your sweetheart laid on
her snow white couch dreaming of you, or
standing in a gauZy cOstu eby the window
looking at the moon and apostrophizing
you as Romeo. But then you know that
she has to take her boots off and take the
hairpins out of her hair, and when her
dainty little feet touch the cold floor you
know that she screams, Couch how cold it
isl" and in that single instant poetry is
dashed to pieces. And you! Well, you
have lots Of poetry internally, / don't
DOUBT, but you are not poetic in a robe de
mutt; you know you're not | know fellow
who reduced everything to the prosaic. We
walked up Market street ono afternoon. A
pretty little girl was coming down. There
are plenty of them.
what pretty girl" said.
Yes"
''That is as pretty foot as have seen in
long time"
Yes. What pity such lovely angel
as that has to cut her corns."
NO said the melancholy old fellow.
You can't tell about those things. used
to be very sentimental when | was young,
but | got it all knocked out of me.
thought the actresses who played pretty,
fearful parts were such true, gentle, senti-
mental women. | went once to hear a
young lady give recltatlons, and they were
sweet, tender things such as touched me;
and she was pretty, with soft, meaningful
eyes and a sad expression about the mouth.
l fell in love with her and l got introduced
to her. | asked her to come out to supper
with me after her reading one night. l was
poor, but had massed all had to give her
dainty, ethereal supper to wake up all the
poetry in her, so to speak. l thought that
sad mouth must be a portal for only dainty
food and we went to the swell restaurant
What shall l order, sirF said the
waiter
''They don't often say sir now, but those
were days of politeness.
1--WE will have began.
"'For me, she broke in, with her deep,
meaniugful eyes and the same sad express
sion about the mouth, I want a beefsteak
suits me best after nights recitation.
at saved me money, but oh, how it burst
up my dream of happiness"