The Virginia enterprise. [volume] (Virginia, St. Louis County, Minn.) 1893-19??, 1895-07-26
even these parodies on purple and fine

even these parOuleS on purple ana hne
| linen.
The fact is, I've come, or rather l
had come, to the end of my tether when
| ran across my old college chum, Eos
ter. He has heightened my rope and,
| by jove, if | don't work to suit him I'll
hang myself with it.
1--WE wasted a good part of my life; if
hadn't been so confoundedly lazy. so
deucedly eNtravagant and so Unfortunately
fond of the cup that cheers and like
wise inebriates, wouldn't be saying fare
we'll to You tonight. There's one consola-
ton. thoug h; if | hadn't drifted into the
land of shabby genteelism and modern
Bohemia I'd never have met Il certain
merry, tender, Woodworking little art
student, whose gentle words of advice,
whose splendid example of fidelity to
purpose and whose ready sympathy in
moments of JOY as well as in days of
further in the social scale and have en-
couraged me to try and become what
poor old dad would have had me-a
manly man.
IF the religious people are right. and
there is another, brighter world, know
that dads spirit hoyers over you in
grateful guardianship.
Dear me, I'm getting sentimental
and also hungry. We must make the
most of the little time that remains
to us, so I'll hurry through few facts
[ want you to know and then Wen dine
together and have IL jolly evrning-a
little oasis of joy in life's desert of work,
dullness and trouble.
The first fact is, that if it were not
for you, I'd not accept Fosters offer,
because I'm troubled with the disease Of
anyone's charity. But you helped me to
see things in their true light and for
your sake I'm going to work hard. I'll
pay Foster all he has lent me and I'll
do my best on his ranch and try to earn
Il ranch of my own one of these days.
And then-but l forgot there's no time
for sentiment.
in what you said Here in the city,
with old associates ready to stand treat
and shove me nearer hell with every
glass, can never break up bad habits
even you can't save me, for | am too
fond of you to ask you to share my pen
nilessness and live on air in Il garnet,
and so, since l can't have you with me-
all the time. l have many hours when
the weakness of my will leads me into
temptation.
Out on the ranch I'll begin il new
life. Il life of healthful, hearty toll. My
new associates are temperate, sensible
men; Foster tells me that many of them
began life as happily as l did. made
fools of themselves as l have and have
atoned for past follies as l hope to.
They know my story. | made Eos
ter write and tell them about me. Il am
going to begin the new life honestly
and 1 wish you could read the earnest,
helpful letter one of those ranchers
wrote me. I'd show it to you but it's
confidential. His own story of mis-
spent days is in it, but there's story,
too. of self-respect regained and such
words of sympathy, of encouragement
| and honest heartiness, it made me feel
glad l was alone when l read it, for my
| eyes were weak. or something. Any
| way couldn't see clearly for few min
utes, and something in my throat choked
| ME. and l wished the fellow that wrote
might grip his hand hard. Only if he
had been, I'm afraid I'd have been a
namby-namby idiot and cried like a
boy, as l did the day l heard poor old
dad was dead and that his last words
| had been prayer for his good-for-
| nothing son.
sentiment again: I'm incorrigible to.
| night! Well, here's a plain and unro
mantle fact. leave New York tomor.
| row morning. on Il train that starts sc
early even such an early bird as you will
Now for another prOsaic fact. I've
| taken out what money 1 need for my
| journey, from sum given me by Eos
ter for that purpose. and I find there's
balance Of 50. Therefore. tonight's
jolification will be on 81 basis.
However let your Imagination wander
| for minute. 1t won't cost anything
| and I've been speechifying SO long you
must be hungry to talk. Just suppose
was a millionaire and You IL famous
artist. how would you spend the evening
them
! I'D spend it with you just the same
if you wanted me to, you poor. dear
| foolish, good boy, but we wouldn't have
| half the fun were sure to have tonight
| You'd be pompo,ls and poky and I'd
be too dignificd and grand to really en-
| joy anything. Still, if we could do Just
as we chose, we'd step into IL carriage
a large, comfortable carriage, with rugs
and footwarmers and two horses. and
we'd drive to the finest of restaurants
and have the finest of dinners, and
thcre'd be lights, hundreds of soft We,
brilliant lights, making everyone look
young and handsome.
| But you'd be just what you are now
the handsomest man wherever you 80
and I'd have, what | never have now
Il beautiful gown and a French bonnie,
and patent-lcather shoes and fresh gloves
and-and Il lorgnette to look proud with
! '"Then to make it quite perfect, there't
be music while we dined, the strains OF
Il violin, the deep, full notes of cello
mingling in the dreamy chords of q
waltz and drowning the clatter of dishes
the chatter of women and the wine-b orr
laughter of men. Afterwards, we'd
drive home in our grand carriage and II
let you smoke and we'd be quite happ,
and feel rich.'
| THAT'S modest programmes; wei
carry it out-oh. with notifications Re
member the SCHOLAR limit. Are yor
ready to start?'
| Eyes; that is, if my"
| Eyes; it's on straight, and let me tel
you that if the fine dreams are ever
realized, one thing is certain, you'll new
err have a prettier frock than the ont
you're wearing now and no bonnet vii
ever be more becoming than the one yol
were clever enough to make. In non,
will you ever look sweeter or more
kissable!' ss sa. 81 s*
Oh, wretched boy, you've knocked Thu
\ becoming bonnet all awry and YOU II.