In the era of “sensibility”—when ladies had the vapors, the sight of a man shaving himself was frowcous. Now, we subscribe for the foreign illustrated comic papers, and speak boldly concerning “Damaged Goods.” (See Bleesh.)
Once a turkey trot was frowcous; bare feet and cocktails—but little is frowcous now. There are so many “things that a young girl ought to know!”
A frowcous tale one day I told
To Revered Eli Meek.
His laughter he could scarcely hold—
It lasted for a week.
He couldn’t stop his wild guffaws;
To calm his merry gale
He had to leave the church, because
He had to tell the tale!
Ge-fooj´et, n. 1. An unnecessary thing; an article seldom used. 2. A tool; something one ought to throw away, and doesn’t. 3. The god of unnecessary things.
Ge-fooj´et-y, a. 1. Superfluous. 2. Pertaining to an old garret.
“Oh, no, I don’t want to throw that away yet; I’ll give it away to somebody, some time,” or “We may need it.” This is the doctrine of Gefoojet, which, preached and practiced in New England, has outlived the dogma of infant damnation. A thousand housewife martyrs have suffered years of persecution, testifying to the sublime nonsense. (See Quisty.)
In my grandmother’s wood-house closet, were ten thousand pieces of folded brown paper, and one hundred miles of string, salvaged from by-gone packages in sacrifice to Gefoojet.
Old letters, half used scrap-books, bottles, boxes and fragments of hardware accumulate unceasingly.
What is a Gefoojet? It’s something you haven’t used for two years, an old magazine or your wedding dress.