The Redwood gazette., 1894-07-26

In the extreme, with large, wistful
and dewy eye. The other was made by
an optician on, Old Bond street. His
name was Claude Halborn Kersykes, the
ninth son of domesticated brewer who
fell in a fit and died with his tongue
out when Claude was little red child,
with very timber neck and large, pale
blue English eyes. All the brewery
was left to the elder son, and the other
eight boys were sent to America to get
married.
Claude was self made man, but
aside from that it was thought that he
had never done anything reprehensible.
His parents had toiled, for they knew
no better, but he was engaged in trying
to overcome the desire in case it should
break out on him. His success thus far
had been phenomenal.
His pantaloons were worn flowing in
the leg and glossy across the rear
breadthA All that he had done thus
far in life had been in the sedentary
line. He was proud of the fact that his
hands had never been hardened by low,
coarse toll, and that he did not know
how to harness horse or even milk a
COW. Had he been cast away on a desert
island, with no one near him but a
milk COW, he would have been obliged
to tackle the maternal fount in the same
way that the calf on the other side did.
There would be no udder way.-Punch.
Some had claimed that his brain had
been injured by fall when he was lit
tie. 1t was not noticed, however, while
he remained in England.
Claude had the air sof one who has
sucked the juice all out of life and flung
the collapsed rind upon the bosom Of
the storm tossed sea. On the rugged
banks of life he stood, with naughty
mien, and pitied people who went on
year after year paying their bills and
thinking thoughts.
Oh, how hollow and bitter was his
existence! How sorry he felt for those
who wore American shoes while he
dressed up every day in waterproof COW
hides made on Regent street and SO con-
structed as to prevent rattlesnake bites
at American tea parties.
AS he stood leaning against fence,
feeling strange yearning for something
more definite, he looked down at his
own shoes, which had legs to them
laced up on the instep and smelling like
an old tannery. He noted their shapeless
and pussy appearance, their sag in
the center and their wide, overfed and
choked aspect. He felt Of his youngest
pimple and looked far away toward Eng
land, whittier he would go as soon as he
got married and began to get an allow
ance from her father.
Not far away in the brilliantly light
ed bay window of a hotel a young per-
son is standing, idly drumming ON the
pane as she looks out into the starry
night. She is not neglecting her work,
however, for she has none.
She was born to be loved and has
hardly been out of job during her
lifetime. She is sort of grass widow
raised to the third degree. Her father
was made suddenly rich by the discov-
cry of natural gas under his farm. She,
like Claude, dislikes those who swop
perspiration for bread. Look at her IA
ther. He worked, and now at the age
of IS he is an old man.
She will take warning and shun the
mad maelstrom in which he has wrecked
his young life. She shudders as she
thinks of it. She also recoils. It costs
her an effort, but she recoils. She then
stands on the other foot awhile as she
peers out through the cleaning. Her
brow is low, but as she gradually singes
off her pyrotechnic hair with a slate
pencil her forehead grows wider and
more intelligent. Her hair is caught
back mostly in an infla1ned doughnut at
the rear of her head and held in place
by means of tin dagger.
Her throat is long and flexible, and
the poise of her head, which she wears
at the top Of her long swanlike neck, is
first rate.
The air is one Of disdain.
She has been on the eve of marriage
seven or eight times.
But Claude does not know it.
She has a naughty way Of taking out
her gum and sticking it against the cell
ing, which reminds one of duchess in
high spirits.
She now changes back to the other
foot and looks out yearnfully through
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