TWO KINDS OF TALKERS.
One Finlakee Hla Sentenoea and the Other Pernlata in Trying to Head Him O*. Then there’s the man who will persist in finishing his sentence even though you see the end from the beginning. Him we may call the realistic talker. Now, if two alert impressionists are communicating with each other by means of their tongues the conversation can run like this, says the Philadelphia Post. “So you want to hear about Jack Carson? Ancient history. Met his enemy in Louisville. Latter dead shot and saw Jack first—” "Exactly. Where’d they bury Jack?’’ “Local cemetery. Had big fortune, daughter Mabel, a beaut. She grew up, and, of course—” “Of course. Englishman or Italian ?” “Reginald Cecil Plantagenet—” “I see. When did she apply for divorce?” “One year, and by that time only half of—” “Humph! How much at first?” “Cool million, and now no foreigners—” “Naturally. W«U; some American will—” “Has—” “Good. When?” “Last month. Has money b£ his own, hard worker and she’ll —” “Be in clover. Well, I’m glad you’ve told .me all this, for I always liked Mabel, and wondered what became of her.” Now, suppose that our verbose and dogged friend had been telling about Jack and Mabel to our alert young impressionist. He would have begun in a hard, dry, matter of fact tone: “So you want to hear what became of Jack Carson. Sit down here by the •window, and I’ll tell you. Nice club this. Well, Jack quarreled with a Kentuckian of the name of Breckinridge, a man who alw .ys shot to kill, and Breckinridge swore he'd shoot Jack at sight. Jack never went armed. One day he was in Louisville, and Breckinridge saw him, and before any one could interfere the Kentuckian—” “I see. Poor Jack!” —“The Kentuckian aimed full at his heart ami shot him, and Jack dropped in his tracks, because he’d been hit in the heart.” “Too bad. What became of Mabel? Leave her any money?” “He left his daughter Mabel his entire fortune. She was a beautiful girl, and when she grew to woman’s estate she was considered a great catch and scores of fellows paid court to her, but an Englishman final—” “I tumble. Took her across the pond and made her pay his debts, I suppose—” —“an Englishman by the name of Reginald Cecil Plantagenet Tudor Conynghame laid siege to her heart and won the simple-minded child. He took her over to England and induced her to square him with his creditors and—” “How long did she stand that sort of treatment?” “ —he was cruel, besides, and treated her shamefully, and in a year she applied—” “Glad she had the spunk. And of course she got it. He was probably a worthless sort.” “ —she applied for a divorce and was lucky enough to get it, although she had spent one-half a million or—” “I understand. What did she do then?” “—or, to be exact, $500,000, on the miserable fellow. Then she came back to America and registered an oath that she would never—” “Marry an Englishman. I see.” “ —would never enter into the state of matrimony with any member of the British aristocracy. But a young Bostonian of means and ability—” “Good for himl He won her, did he?” “ —a young Bostonian of means and ability met her at a reception, and it was a case of love at first sight, and they were married within a month, and I think that in this case the old adage: ‘Marry in— ’” “Not a doubt of it. Those adages don’t always work, particularly the old ones. Get out of order from too much use.” “ —the old adage: ‘Marry in haste and repent at leisure,’ will not apply to them, for the Bostonian is eminently worthy of her, and I’m sure that they’ll be happy. But it’s a great pity that she ever met that Plantagenet Conynghame, for if he hadn’t got his hands on the fortune —” “She’d have had twice as much. Right you are. Good-by, old man. I must be going.” And. the alert (and also somewhat rude) young man hurries off, but hears floating after him the inexorable tones of his friend; “ —if he hadn’t got his hands on that fortune her father left her she would have had twice $500,000 or $1,000,000, to bring to the young Bostonian.” A Great Relief, Mrs. Catterson—l thought I would come and tell you that your Harold has been fighting with my Bobbie, and settle the matter if I could. Mrs. Hatterson—Well, for my part, I have no time to enter into any discussion about children’s quarrels. I hope I am above such things. “I’m delighted to hear that. I’ll | send Harold over on a stretcher in an hour or so.”—Harper’s Bazar. Pineapple Lenonade, Pare, eye and grate a large ripe pineapple; add the strained juice of four lemons and a syrup made by boiling together for four minutes one pound of sugar and one pint of water. When cold add one quart of water; strain and ice.— Good Housekeeping.
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Dunstan Times, Issue 2173, 17 March 1903, Page 6
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844TWO KINDS OF TALKERS. Dunstan Times, Issue 2173, 17 March 1903, Page 6
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