Jir´ri-wig, n. 1. A superficial traveler. 2. The Philistine abroad. 3. A bromide in search of himself.
Jir´ri-wig, v. To travel with one’s eyes shut. To destroy opportunity.
I met Mrs. Jirriwig first in Paris. She had been there three months, and had spent 87 days with modistes and lingeristes, one day at the Louvre—the rest of the time she had been ill. When she wasn’t trying on gowns, she was in a cab, going to or from the process. (See Mooble.)
Later, on the train, I met Mr. Jirriwig, on the way to Venice. The train flew by the bounteous beauties of Lombardy, historic and picturesque. Did Mr. Jirriwig look out of the window? No, he was too busy reading his Baedeker, learning about Venice. In Venice, he spent his time in gondolas, reading up Florence. In Florence he sat at little café tables, turning the pages of his red-covered book and getting acquainted with Rome. So he saw Europe,—in type.
But there are thousands of Jirriwigs in Paris. They have been there for years, and all the French they know is “Combien?” They are in a state of perpetual disgust, that things are so different to anything in the United States.
But there are Jirriwigs in New York also. They live in the Subway, in offices and in flats. (See Cowcat.)
Said Mr. Jirriwig, one day,
To Mrs. Jirriwig,
“Let’s see the Versailles fountains play;
They say they’re fine and big!”
“Yes,” said his wife, “they’re fine and big,
I’ve seen them once, you know!”
“Thank God!” said Mr. Jirriwig,
“Then I won’t have to go!”
