Please set in Antique,
Or 14 point Cushing.
HE MIGHT TRIM THE VIOLETS.
Sir: Could you find an inconspicuous job around the Academy for a bashful man like Mr. Jess Mee, whom we had the pleasure of encountering in Toulon, Ill.?
[p 300]
]We welcome Mr. Mark Sullivan, who fights the high cost of existence by turning his clothes inside out, to our recently established league, The Order of the Turning Worm. Mr. Sullivan, meet Mr. Facing-Both-Ways.
Mr. Mark Sullivan may be interested in this case: “My husband,” relates a reader, “did a job of turning for a man reputed to be wealthy. He removed the shingles from a roof, and turned all except those which were impossible: these few were replaced by new ones. The last I heard about this man he was said to have refused Liberty loan salesmen to solicit in his factory.”
Five years ago a neighbor told us that he had his clothes turned after a season or two of wear, but we neglected to ask him how he shifted the buttonholes to the proper side. Left-handed buttoning would be rather awkward, especially if one were in a hurry.
Miss Forsythe of the Trades Union league explains that young women in domestic service feel there is a social stigma attached to the work. It is this stigmatism, no doubt, that causes them to break so many dishes. Anyway, Stigma is a lovely name for a maid, just as pretty as Hilda.
“Why care for grammar as long as we are good?” inquired Artemus Ward. A question to [p 301] />]be matched by that of the superintendent of Cook county’s schools, “Why shouldn’t a man say ‘It’s me’ and ‘It don’t’?” Why not, indeed! How absurd was Prof. McCoosh of Princeton, who, having answered “It’s me” to a student inquiry, “Who’s there?” retreated because of his mortification for not having said “It’s I.” Silly old duffer! He would not have enjoyed Joseph Conrad, who uses unblushingly the locution, “except you and I.”
No, let the school children, like them (or like they) of Rheims, cry out, “That’s him!” Usus loquendi has made that as mellifluous as “that’s me.” It don’t make you writhe, do it? Besides, we are all sinners, like McCoosh. And as a gentleman writes to the Scott County, Ind., Journal, “Let he that is without fault cast the first stone.”