The Democrat-sentinel. [volume] (Logan, Ohio) 1906-1935, 1906-08-23

ing of my dear departed ten, 80
makes the play!
What are they saying now?" says
the Proposition in Peaches.
Right there was where fell In the
cellar.
Bon gre de la tour be jee!"
says, handing her the hottest accent
that was ever turned loose.
"Oh, John Henryl" says my lady
friend. why, didn't know you
could speak French! How lovely!
What does 1t mean In English?"
1t was up to me to make good.
1T MEANS" l says, that Sara is
handing call-down to the old guy
that looks like cheese sandwich. She
says to him, See here! you've got
another bun on! How dare you trail
into my fiat with; your tide high
enough to float a battleship?"
THAT doesn't sound very poetical,
says the Extreme Limit.
ut isn't poetical." | says, "but It's
the goods, all right. Bon gre,' that s
French for bun, and de la tour
means the rest"
That was where caught step with
my finish.
[ had to translate everything that
was said on the stage, and couldn't
even pronounce the name of the piece
they were playing.
All | could do was to remember
some of the swell language | had
heard at other play joints, and
rushed them at my lady friend so fast
that she hadn't time to decide that
| ought to be on my way to a foolish
house.
When Bernhard addressed lot OF
tickle-your-fancy language that May
Irwin hands to her rib-racked audi
ences, and my lady friend stood for 1t.
When Coquelin pushed out his chest
and jawed every one in sight, | threw
my whole soul into the translation
talk that | heard in burlesque at
THE New York" Coquelin made an
awful hit with my lady friend. If
could have remembered more of those
good things Coquelin would have
been aces with her ever after.
Before the first act was over | had
Sara talking about sure cure for
rheumatism that read in an almanac,
and had Coquelin reciting the
Charge of the Light Brigade"
1t was a hot evening-for me!
Before the second act was half
through | went off my dip. / was
nutty from pit to dome. | had enough
bum French in my topknot to start
one of those sit-back-hold tight table
d'hote places, with wine at 40c. q
grab.
1t was fierce.
But 1t was all off when l put Sara
into Mother Goose. That was the
last camel. My lady friend wouldn't
stand for it when told her that Bern
hardt was saying "Old Mother Hub
bard, she went to the cupboard" She
thought | was stringing her. | guess
was.
| told her that the French had gone
to my head. Clara Jane said | looked
pale, and hadn't we better go home;
she hau egough. anyway!
I'll bet she had. I'll bet four dol
lars my lady friend had the worst
play, bar none, that was ever adapted
from the French. That's what she
had, and had such headache!
After we padded off home my lady
friend said she didn't exactly under
stand the plot of the play, but she'd
be glad II | got the book and read the
rest of it to her.
Me!-off to the woodsl Me!-to
the tall timber till she wakes up! No
more glad tidings from the French
for me. My lady friend is the Whole
Output, but she'll have to get out of
her trance and take me without
dressing.
was a lobster to sit In the game,
but I'm not pate de foie gras enough
to stay there after my feet get cold.
Yours, on the griddle.
JOHN HENRY.
Copyright 1901. by C, w. Dillingham; Coz