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Show VOICES OF THE STREET. A woman with a hungry look and a swarthy complexion, from tho land of harps and hamlorgans; a suckling infant in-fant with an inherited desire to remain forever at the tyunt which insures its existence, with a future before it as a successful manipulator of tho blind man's refuge and the Italian's amoi-tiou; amoi-tiou; a hairy little monkey witlia dudisli face and a missing link oxoression on its countenance and an irresistablo desire de-sire to sit down; a greasv tambourine, out of which Ihu army 0 Booth pounds salvation and soul-wrecking noises, formed a conglomeration yesterday which attracted tho eye . of public attention at-tention and the nostril of the sensitive individual whoso olfactory nerves have not yet become familiar will) the brazenfaced brazen-faced odois which inhabit tho back alleys and stalk down Main street with no visible means of support. For the insignificant, consideration of ton cents you were allowed to see 7.e monk-a danc-a to ze music;. I contributed and 7.0 monk-a danced. It was not a Virginia hoe-down, neither was it a full dress cotillion, (if you have any idea what that is) it was moro of a back-woods shulllo, or a "cowboy rag." The woman had a cast of countenance the nearest simile to which I can imagine, imag-ine, is a charcoal etching of a sewer opening; she hummed a doleful hum, which Was even more vile than tho singing of tho salvation army, if that were possible. As I watched the wretched spectacle, I thought that ono of tho greatest boons that could be conferred con-ferred upon the generations to come by "wo people who are now," would be to see to it that our children are not born in Italy. There is one commendable feature about the Italian, however. He does not aspire to become a policeman. He is satisfied to sell peanuts. .. ' "Virtue," according to Benjamin Franklin, "is its own reward." But I never could see it that way. If you will notice it is aiwavs the good boy who dies young; tfie ward politician gets the "ra"ke off" from the campaign; tho wire-puller is sent to congress; the goodly parson gets pound parties while the successful campaigner is given checks for thousands; the honest man wears trousers that point to his circumstances circum-stances and seem to say, "poor devil, he don't know anything, except to be honest;" tho good' girl grows up to be an old maid with cats and dogs In her house, while her dancing sister marries a saloon keeper and has children and a piano; the sensible youth is run down by a street car, while the dude who wears a sash lives to a ripe old age; the mother's boy who carries in wood at night and builds lires in the morning loses his digestion and has the gout bo-. fore he is thirty, while his brother who played hookey from school and got into trouble every other day draws a prize in the Lousiana Slate lottery and marries mar-ries the only daughter of an ice man. Virtue may be its own reward, but it would seem that the "other follow" always gets the best of it. Did you ever see a great man in the act of thinking ponderous thoughts? It is a sublime sight. Acornsheller running at full speed is insignificant in comparison. Tomorrow is a blank leaf in the history his-tory of tho evening newspaper. The holy quiet of God's day is not disturbed by tho rumbling press of the evening newspaper. Tho editor and tho compositor com-positor enjoy a day of rest. But it is different with the morning journal There is no pause to contemplate the glory of tho Sabbath day. No respite li'tuu tho weary grind of newspaper lifo. There is as much rush and worry as upon a week d&y ami the human machine works on until death marks a pause a comma, for a new machino replaces the old and the great journal does not stop. Men fado from Bight, but new ones are ever ready to fill their places and tho hurried reader is instructed, in-structed, educated, amused as though the hands of old hold the pen or sot the typo. Tomorrow is also the day when the grasping dispenser of liquors closes his front door. Tomorrow is also tho day when the pealing of tho Sabbath bells arouses twenty peoplo from slumber in time to catch the 1 :43 train for Garfield Beach while arousing one repentant sinner to come to church. it But it is so much easier to wash the dirt away in the waters of the lake than it is to wash tho sins away in tho blood of the Lamb. I sat for two mortal hours in a par-quette par-quette chair at tho theater tho other night and suffered through an abortiou of a comedy-drama sailing under the title of "Lady Peggy." Airs. Shallow-hoad Shallow-hoad was also there. She sat in the dress-circle to my loft. I also noticed Mrs. l'roudazl in the dress-circle to my right. They- each Mrs. S. and Mrs. 1'. had opera glasses and devoted the bulky portion of their time iu focussing each other with their glasses. First Mrs. S. would staro at Mis. V. Then Mrs. P would staro at Mrs. S. Thou they would stare at curb other. In the meantime the play kept right ou as though it were replete with startling situations and instructive morals. But it was indifferent to Mrs. P. and Mrs. S. They came to see and be seen. And 1 gues they accomplished their object. The most insigniticant personage came under their opera glass staro and the minutest portion of their visible anatomy anat-omy was carefully examined. Why? I don't know. I have never met any one who did. Unless upon tho hypothesis hypo-thesis that a vacant mind is easily tilled. At any rale it is a pernicious practice this infernal, diabolical scrutiny scru-tiny through tho opera glass, and do-cency do-cency if not good sense should abolish abol-ish it. Cklbe Clake. |