The Pacific commercial advertiser. [volume] (Honolulu, Hawaiian Islands) 1885-1921, 1904-07-31

OF honor 10 the fair Yvernelle Leok,
/ saws he, pointing up al anotf1eF youIit
| woman thar stepped on the stage ant
got lost IN the fare OF the Heroine
beauty. observe the approach or tn
| yillainous TIluthelred. That woman L
swearing TO keep you and me apart; but
on me soul" SAYS the Hero, i sweat
| that you, Yverneile, are better-lookInG
| girl than this Thuthelred.
What" says the villain, her prett1ei
than my Thuthelred' A slap IN the tacs
OF me honor !"
| And with that the orchestra struck UP
with chords OF disharmony, and the
Villain cut a round hole with his sword
in the air. and Jumped through i to get
at the Hero, that had come on WIFE
, nothing but a dirk: and the only thing
that saved the Hero's life was the COM
ing down of the curtain.
"And never a hiss" says Clarence,
waving his hand IN disgust at the stage.
They can sit and hear of young girl 5
father treated like that. and they never
give vent TO a word of objection-a hne
creature like that" says he, 'and pretty
as ever was made And that Hero was
no good; for why didn't he pick up
cobble and make an end of that man
with the sword2 I've always heard Ill
of the aristocracy," says he, all vacant
with hunger, and now believe 1t; and
in such a place where doings like that
is received with applause | viii not re-
maini"
And you two stopping here all the
tirnel" says the Poet, red with exaspera-
ton. How in the world do you know
if they'll fit"
7
tJook here, mister" says Clarence;
II don't know what it is that | don't
know whether it fits. and I don't know
what it is that is made of wood; but
whatever it is, I can neither play on 1t,
eat II, nor spend it for beer: and this
place IS all crazy, and I'm going down
TO Andy Coggins' to get a plate OF
beans"
mo, no-hold him. says the Poet.
what will me play be without the
fight? Couldn't We see that from read
ing the book" says he answering sew
eral questions from millionaires in the
same breath.
"What book? What fight" says we.
"Oh, It's most extraordinary if We
haven't understood says he, with I'M
patience. brushing every one. else aside
and dragging US into room. Here's
the two suits of arnor, says he, and
why don't you get into EN-? And here's
your wooden swords And there's half
a bowl of punch And what | want you
to do IS precisely this. Just q minute,
says he; and lady's-maid hauled him
away
Clarence got that amused by the
punch that he let me fit him into his
sheet-iron vest, with the arms and legs
of lobster.
otis the liquor of the aristocracy,"
says he, with his head in the bowl: and
I'm wondering how long before III ar
rive at some opinion of it. And he
grew that tame | could put the sheet
iron head on him, with the face that
opened and shut; and then, when he
had absorbed the dregs of the punch, he
gave the ghost of a smile. But when |
stood him up complete and creaking n
the rivets, he begun to complain of the
ancients for fighting in such foolish
clothes, and I knew he was running
down again. and had arrived at no opin-
ion OF his liquor at all.
Them spider-Iegs of yours is the
most awkward I ever see" says he,
watching me try with the armor, and
him all at outs with creation
Them ancients was all dwarfs, says
I, sharing his hurnor: and this tin trou-
sers IS a total misfit.
That's right, says he; "say I'm a
dwarf And you get me all jailed
inside OF this crazy invention, and
then you call it all off The whole
place is misfts," says he, jumping up,
all nlaudlin with famine. "The liquor IS
weak as pap And that Angora Poet
ignores me, and that William de Stiff
neck insults me- And never a taste OF
food, though We hint as loud as parrot
irf its cage. And I'm going to take this
fiddling violent with the armor, and
what's the matter of it?" says he,
wrestling with his iron gloves and try
ing to fri his hands and feel for the
buckles MS breastplate. How do l
get out of this" says he, raising his
voice beyond all decency. do / back
I'D ag'in' the wall and break the shell OF
it like a flea? Le' me out of here? /
says he, growing frantic. He dashed
himself ag'in' the wall. and caromed of, |
jingIing ike tinsrnith. ''Unscrew me
head off OF tfisr' he commands, pulling
at his helmet. YEN not, then. will
ye?" says he And with that he took up
a chair and hit himself that hard in the
helmet that it knocked him down on
the floor
What's the matter here?" says the
Poet, breaking through the door.
Its beans-beans = shouts Clarence |
yesticulating with his legs like beetle
on its back: I'm on me way to Andy /
Coggins' 10 get a plate of beansr'
Maybe the smell OF food would revive |
lirl." says I, Withholding me sarcasm
"Herei" says the Poet. snatching a
strange pastry from Williams tray
Twas a bit OF cream paste hit up with !
! stick till it looked like the froth on !
beer, and rolled inside of a cooky the
hick of postcard; and the Poet opens
Jim.