Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1891-02-07
TWO PHOroGRApus.
He wss . Bachelor and She Pretty Girl.
From the Harvard LAmpoon.

He wss . Bachelor and She Pretty Girl.
From the Harvard LAnpoon.
SCENE I.
(Bachelor's room. soft coal Are. deep arm
chair. table with lamp. bottles, gl.sses, &C.,
mantelpiece covered with books, pipes, cards
and photograph Of woman's head In handsome
frame.)
ENTER young man explosively)
Young man-Tbere. that's done for, Now
there's nothing left but to send myself 10 eter-
nal smash (throwing down hat and stick. Il
takes q woman to knock the bottom out Of
everything-woman! Girl-bAhl What have
years got to do with IL? For pure mischief
give me . bud Of eighteen; that's before the
wrinkles begin TO tell tales out Of school (sets
into easy coat and throws himself into arm
chair, sees photography.
Oh! Clicks fire. FIRE smokes, turns M
lamp, lamp smokee, pause). See here. nv bow
SELF you know, 30 you might as well look
things In the face. Breaches down photograph
and gazes at III. You are a pretty girl-an
awfully pretty girl You never would lei me
say sweet things to Won; but can now (Sishs
lights pipel. That mouth looks as though N
could not say an ugly word-but il could. and
BY Jove. words that fomented over night,
(Nindlctiyely) Some day that "bewitching
curve will be an ugly wrinkle-I suppose YOU
think that time is going to be - patient as
Strange. the way you girls mount your looks
and ride them TO death. (while talking he fills
glass from bottle at his elbow and drinking
slowly; lets the picture slip through his fingers
to his knee.)
I don't blame you, mind, but think your
own sex would have no more use for you IL
they knew how you gave them away. Talk
about men being rough and brutal"
Witness my own case. This day at $50 I be-
heved that girls were sunny-hcarted creatures,
loving al women and few men-one perhaps;
at 5:45 sharp / knew all women had hollow
hearts. and that all they cared for was to break
a man and count the pieces. And these things
we're unfolded TO me by delicate little cres-
ture of eighteen.
(The FIRE blazes up, young man sinks deeper
into arm-chair)
II is rather jolly to call ones soul ones own
again. Now / can let my beard grow and wear
yellow tie. She had a way of smoothing me
down as though she were my sister. Women
are all very fine, but too much Of good thing
Voices heard singing in the distance. As
fall with crash, holds mp glass and joins in
song) Free from care and despair
(Curtain.)
SCENE II.
(Boudoir, wood fire, soft lights, comfort ad.
lib. On couch before the fire pretty girl In At
titude suggestive Of complets repose.)
Pretty girl love to lie here thinking of
nothing at all; it is such rest not 10 have an
idea in my head-just for once. CLOCK strikes,
pretty girl starts up and falls back with sigh
Of relief Goodness, l forgot-there is no
need to rush down stairs and pretend TO be in
terested in Greek and athletics. Nv poor
brain has been perfectly twisted out OF shape
lately. It's as bad as wearing tight shoes,
this forcing ones brain into other people 8
hobbies.
Poor, kind, stupid men-I wonder IL YOU ever
have giimmering of how you can bore US? Not
that Jack bored me much. He was so hand
some that could sit and look at him while he
spouted Greek verse; the Greek pronunciation
Poor fellow! he had such a handsome mouth.
Had, l say, as though he were dead. HIM,
well he is. But think his ghost NAV walk.
(She gets up and moves about the room as
though searching for something.) I wonder
why men must always be what they call lin
ful creatures; they can't even take q yaca-
ton. Now, enjoy a rest sometimes. WHY,
it's a perfect relief not to be interested
In the door bell. But with men it's diff
ferent, quite different; if they can't have
one they take another-but it's eternally
girls, girls. girls. That's why feel no psngs
when people say: poor fellow, how could
your" might well be zone" Discovers
photograph of young man in scrap-basket)
All knew hadn't burned you up. (Takes
photograph near light and looks at il criti-
cally) Poor dear! you were handsome-but
what chump you were about paving compli-
ments. You did say once that might not be
what is technically called well dressed, but that
always looked perfection.
What are you doing now? Pacing the streets
cursing fate.
know-you are in your dreary room; the
fire is out, the lamp is not lighted; YOU are
leaning against the mantel-piece, your face
buried in your hands-and you are feeling ter
ribly lonely. "a tear falls on the photograph. }
What is that?-why-why, 1 am crying
Breaks down and begins to sob)
(Curtain.)