The mirror. (Stillwater, Minn.) 1894-1925, 1898-12-08

opium, but from cigarettes-most pipe
fends smoke cigarettes. There are
about forty persons lying around on
the platform. Right here beside us is
a grey-haired woman. My God! What
horrible face How old is she? Per.
haps thirty, perhaps hundred, who
knows? Next are two Cinnamon and
girl-not over fifteen-is lying with
her limbs across one of them, and her
head resting upon the other. Over
there is colored lady from Thompson
St.; and the man begging so piteously
for "jast one drag" from her pipe, is
the scion of one of the proudest old
Knickerbocker families. On, you'll
find true democracy here; but we came
here to smoke, not to moralize. So if
you'll help, we will just roll these Chi.
namen off onto the floor, and take their
places.
Now we will let Mr.. Knickerbocker
cook for us. He will steal couple of
pills, but so will you when your time
comes. You don't like the taste hey?
Nobody does at first. You feel better
now? thought you would.
See! the roof has been lifted and the
walls have fallen away. We are not in
a filthy cellar but lying upon the green
sward by the shore of a beautiful lake.
A thousand times ten thousand birds
are singing and there is not discord-
ant note in all the grand flood of mel
ody. The air is rendoIent with the
most choice perfumes of the gorgeous
East" Every golden fancy and rosy
day-dream of your life is about to be
multiplied thousand fold and real
lied. You have never dreamed that
mortal could dream of bliss so divine.
You have but to conceive desire and
it become reality. You have just
read Quo Vadis and it has impressed
you. Behold! You are seated at Me-
ro's banquet, the golden netting covers
the ceiling from which the beautiful
roses keep dropping dropping.
Roman Senator, Greek sage, patri,
clan beauty, nude dancing girl, all are
there. 1t is real, you see them, touch
them, talk with them, know them.
You have lived two toousand years in
a minute; Presto! You are lying in
the gilded galley OF Egypt's fatal queen
and know yourself her hearts ideal.
Dusky slaves anticipate your every
wish, serving you with exquisite wines
and luscious fruits. You float on, and,
not for an hour or day, but for GEN.
turies. Time does not exist for you
But you weary of this and would know
other love.
VIOLA! You are AdOnis in the
mossy woodland, and Venus is, tanning
you with her perfumed hair. There
are the beautiful "twin hillocks" over
which you may roam at will, and
velvet lawn and "rich bottom land"
invite you, while love lit eyes and
pleading voics bid you. "Seek lower
where the precious fountain lies."
But these being the pleasures of earth
they pal! upon you. Well-you have
but to lift your soul above the pomps
vanities of this life and it will soar
aloft in an ecstasy Of JOY up to the very
gates of Paradise and God, and the
angels will come out. Then-well then
you'll wake up. All yes! That is the
hell of it. The first idea that takes
possession of you is, that you are the
ossified man in the Bowery Museum,
and the next is, that you are sorry you
are not an ossified man. Your feet are
frozen into huge cake of ice and
your head is in q blazing tar barrel.
There is fifty ton locomotive and sew
eral brick houses resting upon your
chest while about sixteen hundred and
nine 6endish imps are dancing around
you. They have blue hair and green
whiskers; very large heads, and very
short legs. They throw great black
spiders onto your face and laugh. Ye
gods! What bideous laugh they
have. Then from the ceiling great
boaconstrictor comes gliding down
upon you. You hope he will crush you
at once, but he does not. He swings
his hideous head twice around you and