The Editor's Leisure Hour.
Clutha Leader, Volume X, Issue 535, 11 January 1884, Page 3
The Editor's Leisure Hour.
« , Where Was the Cat,? Have you heared the ca.t story they tell of Col. Tom Clark, of Brooklyn? It seems that he once owned a cat on which he showered all the affections of his bachelor heart, and^the shower took the shape of a pound of mineemeat every day. One morning the Colonel noticed that his -feline namesake had wasted away, to a mere, skeleton, and immediately he summoned his boy Bill to appear before the bar. ' Didn't I tell you to give that catr a pound of meat every day V asked the Colonel. ' Yes, sir ; and that's what I give him every morning, before you're out of bed,' said Bill. ' I don't believe a word of it. My opinion is that you either pocket the money or eat the meat yourself. Bring me the scales and the cat,' The scales and the cat were brought ; the latter was placed on the former, and Tom and the marker stopped at the one pound mark. ' There !' exclaimed the boy in triumph. < Didn't I tell you I gave him a pound of meat this morning V ' There's the pound of meat, sure enough,' said the Colonel, stroking his chin. ' But where on earth is the cat V * Not a Consumptive. The other day an officer patrolling Monroe Avenue noticed a middle-aged woman standing in a hall-way, and, as she continued to remain there for the next hour, be finally asked if she was looking for anybody. ' Waiting for the doctor,' she replied, as she pointed over her shoulder upstairs. ' Anything serious V j ' Look-a-here ]' she replied, as she walked up to him, 'my old man and the boys and gals have got the idea that I "am going into consumption. That's my boss and buggy out there, and I'm waiting t to have my lungs sounded. Do I look like a woman in consumption V 'Well, no.' ' Whoop ! Hoopla-whooplee !' she yelled at the top of her voice. 'Does that air voice sound as if my right lung was gone and the left badly affected ?' 'No ma'am ; your voice indicates strong lungs.' 'That's what I say. The old man can hear me a mile and a half, but he's afraid I've got consumption. Could a consumptive do this f And she jumped from the floor, cracked her heels together, and indulged in a shuffle which made the officer's knees ache. ' Anything graveyardish in that V she asked, as she stood panting with arms akimbo. ' No, ma'am. I'd give ten dollars if I could hoe it down after that fashion.' 'And could a consumptive take a man of your heft . and prance him around like this ?' she asked, as she seized the officer and slammed him against the walls until he eyeballs jarred. ' Great snake3 ! No !' ' And see here,' she continued, as she made a hop and a step, and kicked the wall as high as his hat,. ' anything there that looks like a funeral procession ? Come out doors and show me the hitching-post I can't pull up by the roots !' ' Madam, I've witnessed enough. You haven't got consumption any more than I've got riche,3. Don't you fool away your time looking for doctors.' * A Curate's Adventure. A correspondent informs us of a romantic incident which has recently occurred in a prosperous London suburb. A devoted young High Church curate of interesting appearance and great popularity in his district was waited upon by a young lady of considerable attractions, -but with an air of deep melancholy, and clad in a somewhat ascetic garb. After some confusion and the shedding of a tear she revealed to him that she had ventured to visit him on a matter deeply affecting her happiness, she feared her life. The curate naturally asked what it might be, but after several attempts to speak, choked by sobs, she informed him that the matter was one of such deep importance that she could not impart it except at her own abode, where she adjured him as her spiritual friend, by all he held sacred, to visit her. After some little conversation, the reverend gentleman promised to do so, and the next day he called at the address given him. Then the young lady, with a look of still deeper dejection, and a voice indicative of remorse and shame, revealed to him the fatal secret. She had conceived a deep, a passionato love for the curate himself. She knew, she said, that her passion was hopeless. He, in his devotion to the Church, for which she loved him all the more, had vowed himself to a life of celibacy, and she would resignedly carry her; attachment to the grave, which she felt was not far off.' But there was one kindness which it was in his power to grant her, the remembrance of which would bring cousolation to her dark and weary path. Would '■ he, before they parted, for ever,, give her one kiss? After some timidity and agitation, the young curate, touched with pity, complied. The lady shied another tear, bade him adieu in a hollow voice, and. he departed/ A few ;days afterwards. he received a. neat -little parcel grace-. ■"*'.■.'.■■' .<-•■''
fully tied with a piece of blue ribbon,.,, and on opening it, found an instan. taneous photograph (cabinet size) of himself kissing the young lady. Accompanying this was a communication* from the fair creature herseff that there were 1 1 more copies, and that he - might have the whale dozen at L2O a piece. Should he not be in want of them, it was her intention to dispose - of theme in another quarter. Negotiations on the subject are said to be proceeding.