The courier. (Lincoln, Neb.) 1894-1903, May 16, 1896, Image 5

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49c. EflCfl
200 dozen (2,400) Shirt Waists, a big lot, but we have them. They are our entire line of
75c and 85c waists and nearly all of our $1 ones. They are all made with extra large Bishop's
sleeves. The cloth is a good quality of percale. They are laundried and made in the best
manner. We could probably sell the entire lot before July 1, for 75c, 85c and $1 each, but we
prefer cleaning them up in a week and have made one price on the entire lot. From Saturday
on they are 49c. each.
My Dear Eleanor: Talk about the
heathen who worship Idols and pros
trate themselves before the sun and fire
gods, aiid spend time in mysterious rites
and ceremonies, or the Indians, who
slash off their ears and tatoo their
bodies in hideous designs, in order to
appease some imaginary deity of their
misguided Imaginations, but after all
they are a free and enlightened people,
broad and noble-minded races, com
pared to us. We don't worship idols.
Granted, my love; but we make abject
slaves of ourselves at the shrine of one
particular Idol. What a habit you have
of staring at me when I push a lap
ahead of kou in my figures of speech.
Well, catch up, if you can, because I'm
going ahead. Our idol is large, but not
in reality so large as it feels, for If It
was. an addition would have to be built
to the world and times are -too hard to
invite bids for the contract.
It, unlike heathen gods, is rather
pretty to look at. That is because of its
clothes, and not from any light within.
It makes a deal of noise and such a loud
noise that the bewildered seers fre
quently are unable fo determine wheth
er it is at its devotions or casting its
vote. It can speak several languages,
but generally sings in Italian. It is not
in the least a narrow-minded, exclusive
deity, never to be seen by the worship
ers; it does not, like the Chinese god,
Chow Chow, shut itself up in a bottle
surrounded by mustard; by no means.
It rides out in carriages, grin 3 and
shows its gold fillings. It sometimes in
vites you and Invariably accepts your
invitation, which proves It isn't too
proud. Gods should possess humanity,
and ours Is a just god, a worthy god. a
most gracious and rewarding god. We
do well to yield full and willing homage,
for where can one And so full and satis
fying reward as the return given for the
abject, servile, cringing worship of to
day, given to the god of modern times
Society. Slaves have since time im
memorial worn gilded chains, and
smiled, aye, even laughed, so that the
ages, diverted, should recall the smile,
the laugh and forget the chains, for
chains are 'the badge of servitude: so
also, too often, are smiles. I do well to
grow tragic. I am threatened with an
eclipse, so far as the great god's favor Is
concerned. I was told to my face if
Penelope were decided on she would be
cut dead by society. I discovered my
self to that avenger of the swell set. All
right. I turned green an unstylish
Nile green, my teeth chattered with an
ague rattle, my note book and pencil
took a tumble to themselves, and In the
sheer fright my white polka dotted veil
rose, floated off and attached Itself to
the Continental flag staff, so that people
thought Mr. Welch was heralding a
storm, while I said with a maudlin show
of dignity: "Well, I am sure I know
nothing about her." She believed me, of
course she did. 'for she said good-bye,
with a smile which I think the inhabi
tants of purgatory must wear when
they tell each other Its a cold day. Elea
nor, this is no Joke. Suppose Society
refuses me entrance at the confessional:
suppose. like Bismarck and the Ameri
can pig, we never speak as we pass by.
In view of my tender youth and the
length of time I might have -to put In as
an ostracized member of the elite it Is a
serious matter. Perhaps I might work
up an interest in foreign missions and
get along, remembering always that the
inevitable result of greatness is soli
tude. It is simply one of the jokes of life
that the Society which is willing to dis
own me, unwillingly supplies the water
which turns my wheels.
If that eastern periodical, which an
nounced to the reading public last year
that Nebraska was returning to Its orig
inal rainless desert state, could b"
reached, I should be proud to invite it
to "holler down our rain barrel." It Is
raining tonight, but In an insiduous.
apologetic style, that seems a trifle
tame after last night but we hadn't
looked forward to seeing Ada Rehn
for weeks to be balked even by such a
downpour as Nature ladled out to us.
As we denned our second best, adding a
ribbon collar, and a touch here or there.
In the hope of wearing a festive look,
which we didn't deserve, and reached
the theatre as best we might.
Ada Rehan left nothing to be desired
as Katherine, and her support was ex
cellent. The audience was the most
representative one we have had this
teason. so far as people were concern
ed. Of course It wasn't dressy theru
was a mackintosh and umbrella cast to
us, which we couldn't help. I noticed
In the audience Judge and Mrs. Wool
worth. Gen. and Mrs. Manderson, Mr.
and Mrs. Geo. Prltchett. Mr. and Mrs.
Hal McCord. Misses Doane, Curtis,
Drake, McKeena, Dickinson and Dave
Cartan. In fact, I never went to this
theatre that I didn't see Dave. You see
him when you enter. You see him all
the time you are there, and when you
leave, an ubiquitous combination of
smile, tan shoes and button-hole bou
quet, more obvious than the painting of
our patron saint. John A. Creighton,
which smiles in eternal sweetness above
the stage. I believe he gets up the pro
grams, but that isn't a circumstance to
the way he gets Dave up.
The Dramatic School gave Its per
formance for the Creche last Thursday
"Nance Oldtleld" and "The Bells." and
as a community we confess to a feeling
of surprise. "Sinners who came to scoff
remained to pray" or something to that
effect. We expected it to be funny, ano
it wasn't, not in the least. It was a
remarkably creditable performance. Mr.
Frank Lea Short expects to take the
road, supported by his own company,
on the 18th of this month, and present
Ibsen's "Ghosts." Were we inclined to
be facetious, we would predict that they
will spook back before many moons,
but being a serious-minded party, wc
simply question their judgment in tlu
choice of a play.
Nearly everybody went to the Millard
Monday evening to attend the Margeath
reception. Of course, there were flow
ers and music and an elaborate supper,
and many people. The bride was very
sweet, wore her wedding gown and
smilingly shook hands with three hun
dred and ninety-nine of the elect. I
wasn't there. One young man told me
none of the girls looked particularly
well. It's rather odd, for I was told In
confidence that Miss Sloan had fifty
yards of lace on her gown. An interest
ing feature of the occasion was an ar
tistic arrangement simulating rocke.
over which a cascade of punch flowed,
which suffered no drouth the entire ev
ening. There seemed to be an under
standing between the supply and de
mand, which would challenge the ad
miration of the most monumental thirst.
Here are some pastels for you. I call
them The Flight and The Return. The
first one, you see. represents a lovely
morning, blue sky, green trees, sunlight
galore, and a gay bicycle party. By
looking closely you will recognize Miss
Curtis. Miss Doane. Miss Emily Wak.
I y, Messrs. Mullen. Gulou and Doane
They are starting out with brave attire
for Sarpy Mills. The Mills do not ap
pear In the picture, but the party reach
ed there. I am told. When the young
men, driven by the pangs of hunge,
wooed the wary fish and landed seven
which one of the young ladies boiled,
while another fried the coffee. The
confessed to an Ignorance of the divine
art of cooking and thus strengthened
and refreshed, they posed for the Re
turn. It was all well enough until that
awful rain set In. You know how much
congeniality there Is between muddy
roads and pneumatic tires. Once a
heavy downpour drove them under
trees for shelter. Mr. Doane. on the prin
ciple. I suppose, that the merciful nun
Is merciful to his beast, shouldered his
wheel and the elements made merry and
transferred the mud from his bicycle
to his person. He Is said for the once
to have lost the look of elegance, which
Is habitual to him. They tire to tell the
tale, but it is generally understood tbT
anyone of them has a second-hand bi
cycle for sale at reasonable rates and
on long time.
Mrs. Lewis Reed who has recovered
from her severely sprained ankle H
In Chicago on a flying visit. Mrs. E.
W. Nash and her daughter Mary are
also there enroute for New York.
Speaking of Chicago makes rre thing
that one of our former lights now holds
forth In great splendor In that city To
say that Mrs. Lander scintillated here,
would be to do the subject Injustice, for
she really emitted sparks which blind
ed us. No "put-up Utica" would suffice.
It required the incorporated limits of
a city like Chicago to accommodate the
flame. A returned visitor Informed me
In awe struck tones, that Mrs. Lander
had a lovely home on the same street
Continued on pay S)