THE RUIN OF ME.
(TOLD BY A YOUNG MARRIED MAN.)
I am Poverty scuffing about in old shoes and rubbers. I _was_ one of
those who, at a good salary, think up smart things to put around in the
corners of the Chicago _Times_. When every newspaper, from the London
_Punch_ down, was making jokes about Elihu Burritt's _Sanskrit for the
Fireside_, it was I who beat them all by saying in solid nonpareil,
"The best way to learn Sanskrit is to board in a family of
Sanskritters." It was I who said, "Let the Communists carry pistols:
they may shoot each other;" and, "Sara Bernhardt's children are
articles of _virtu_."
_O quam me delectat_ Sara Bernhardt! I love such diversified, such
picturesque gifts. Sculpture, painting, acting, writing! This is why I
loved Lydia, who was an adept at numberless arts and accomplishments.
She was a brunette with a clear, cream-tinged skin, red cheeks, rolling
black eyes, ripe velvety lips, and hair of a beautiful hue and rich
lustre--raven black, yet purple as the pigeon's wing in the sun. I
believe it is true that dark people belong to the pre-historic races:
centuries of sunlight are fused in their glowing complexion.
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