The weekly Thibodaux sentinel and journal of the 8th Senatorial District. [volume] (Thibodaux, Lna. [i.e. La.]) 1875-1898, 1893-05-13
MORAL: "DO NOT KISS"
That Is, Do Not Kiss Cooks Who
Make Bread Puddings.

They had been talking of spiritual
manifestations, haunted houses and
other cheerful subjects-that is, three Of
them had been talking. The fourth
man had smoked on steadily, his hands
locked behind his head, staring into the
wood fire.
just for something to say one of the
party asked: "Well, Jack, what about
you? Weren't you eve haunted?"
The man they called Jack took his
cigar from his mouth and. with his eyes
still fixed On the fire, spake:
Yes, | was haunted once; haunted
by d oma with a bread pudding
wrapped in q newspaper. have never
forgotten it. | will tell you this story
because it has a moral and therein diff
fers widely from the stories you have
been telling.
ITO begin with, it was all the fault
of a kiss. In the days of his youth and
the spring of his blood a man will kiss
almost anything feminine if he gets the
chance. When that sort of malady
came upon me | was an under master
in a large private school in the south of
England. We had about sixty boys and
a correspondingly large force of serv-
ants. Some of those servants were
among those who were not was the
cook. Looking back through the vista
of years, | know that Cookie was
homelier than a Chinese idol, but in
those days the elixir Mephistopheles
gave Faust got into my blood some
times. and IN one of those occasions /
kissed the cook. 1t was a chaste salute
and Cookie evidently liked it. That kiss
was the beginning of many things, all
of them unpleasantJ
Cookie was a good cook and the fare
at thai school was neither plentiful nor
good. Besides a good healthy appetite
| had in those days a great prediction
for bread buildings. A bread pudding
is something like fruit cake, only more
doughty, and it touches the hungry spot
better. Cookie was a great hand at
those buildings and sometimes used to
make me n for lunch, but after that
kiss | never had to ask for lunch, for
Cookie went to making bread buildings
for me until | couldn't rest. / would
linda cold, clammy bread pudding under
my pillow when | went to bed and an
other would be nesting in the bureau
drawer among my clean linen. Such q
plethora Of pudding would pail on my
appetite and finally | got to firing the
deiicacies out OF the window at the
strolling cats and pugnacious sparrows.
"Well, it came to pass one evening
that Cookie looked upon the beer when
it foalned in the pewter and came
home hilarious. The next morning
Cookie got fred and l was not as
sorry as might have been, because l
forsaw a puddingless rest ahead. /
babe Cookie a tender farewell and ac-
cepted a last bread pudding of giant
proportions which | promptly fed to the
cats.
You fellows know that in England
the b~artender's place is generally filled
by a girl-mighty pretty girls some of
them are. too. Somewhere near the bar
is what, in hotels, is called the bar par
Tor. This is reserved for the aristocrats
and other salt of the earth. Down at
the little seaside place l speak OF there
was a nice hotel called the Red Lion.
with a coy bar parlor presided over by
h prettiest girl you ever saw. We
called her Miss Dee. Whether it was
the excellent quality of the brown
brandy or the superior attractions Of