14 THE COURIER. THROUGII A SPINSTER'S SPECTACLELS. Br ELTA MATHESON The campaign Is over, and the dead ly calm which follows a cyclone has fallen upon us. The wrecking com panies have bid for the debris and are hauling it out of sight as fast as pos sible. I notice among It some broken hearts, many blasted hopes, blighted ambitions and a multitude of dead Is sues, the spawn of political mesal liances, which it were well to bury deep and quickly. Battle axes are sheathed; war paint dries in the can; torches can be had for next to nothing, and red light Is given away at the dismantled head quarters. The swan song of silver dies in the rustle of the corn shocks, and the old est inhabitants are making them selves disagreeable and conspicuous, by telling how it all came about Jack slaps Bill on the back, and gives vent to the little pleasantry- with which we are so familiar "Sore, are you, old man? Well, I told you" There is such quantity of those "I-told-you-so" people. I look with posi tive amazement on the humble posi tions occupied by these "omnipotent gentlemen. It seems sdqueer that the ends of their trouser legs are always frayed, several buttons generally miss ing from their overcoats, and that they Invariably want to borrow a dol lar from the men to whom they are demonstrating their perspicacity. They xemlnd me of an old shoemak er In the town where I was born. Af ter every battle lost by our troops, he used to say, "I knowed it I knowed it I cud a-told you so; now ef I had a-ben that general I'd of fetched a col ume up here " Indicating the position with his awl on the well-worn bench "an I'd of brung a colume down there" Nobody ever waited to find out what he would have done with the rest 01 his "columes," but everybody felt that a great strategic leader had been lost to no purpose but that men's soles might be saved. After three months of intense excite ment and uncertainty, as a nation, as cities and families, we find it exceed ingly difficult to shake ourselves into the old familiar ruts again. Since shouting paeans of victory, it is hard to attune the vocal chords to the hum ble ditties of every-day life. Ameri cans particularly have an abnormal appetite for excitement to which the age of electricity panders In a highly satisfactory degree. If the Dowager Empress has a few diplomats served up as soup for dinner.with a mission ary of two thrown In as entrees, we know it the next day in all its grew some details. TVe like it too; in fact it would probably be impossible to serve our daily news to us too highly spiced. We have no hankering after mush and milk our palate has been seared by condiments. The newspapers know this and en deavor to meet the demand; if a bunch of our "dallies" should be dropped over the side of some air ship into a quiet Dutch village, I can fancy the consternation of the worthy burghers. They would undoubtedly imagine that the entire population of the new world was being hurled Into eternity by way of the bowie knife, sand bag, poison or dynamite. This is just another phase of our national restlessness. We fear ennui more than we do the plague, and the dread attacks young and old alike. I sat in the boudoir of one of our society girls a week or two since, and Mariana in her moated grange could not have bewailed her lot more per sistently. I am a friend of this girl's mother, but the girl herself Interests me. Sho is such a typical representa tive of the buds forced Into premature maturity by the high pressure of mod ern social life. She had just had her hair washed. "In water with a little speck of soda in it to make the hair fluffy," she ex plained, as she sat in the sunny win dow, picturesque In a Chinese gown with the fluffy hair In gorgeous disar ray. She was such a dainty picture of luxurious idleness, that I suddenly be came conscious that the ends of my gloves were rather worn, my hat a last season's creation, and that my tout ensemble proclaimed loudly that I owed my entre here, because of the faint aroma about me of the long van ished glory of my family. I winked hard as hundreds of protesting ghosts of as many dead joys passed before my mental vision. Why do respectable ghosts not stay in their graves? "Do make yourself comfortable, Miss Roxy. Mama will be in presently; in the meantime, talk to me." Young things have a way of confiding in me. It Is the chief joy of my rather color less existence. "I suppose you are delighted at the prospect of another season's gayety, aren't you, Grace?" I began pulling off my worn gloves I have rather a pretty diamond ring left and settling myself in an easy rocker. "Delighted? Well, not exactly. I don't know why I should be, Miss Roxy. Now you do over and over the things that you must do, and I sup pose you get rather tired of it all, but then you get your salary, too. Now I do over and over the same things, because there Is nothing else for me to do, and it is rapidly reducing me to Imbecility." "But, Grace, isn't there constant dis traction in all these social affairs you go to? I see your name constantly." She gave a scornful little laugh and turning to her desk near by, picked up a handful of little white envelopes. "Do you imagine that these repre sent much excitement? I have eaten thro one season of Balduff s salad and ices at over a hundred afternoons, un til the monotony of it all drives me distracted. I have felt sometimes like chewing up the paper cases on the scallops and marron glaces, just by way of variety, you know." "Well, I am certainly surprised. I thought if there was a satisfied person in this city it should be you; what is the trouble?" "There isn't any trouble specially. Life is disgustingly smooth sailing for me. If the coachman were even passable looking, I would elope with him. You see," lifting her shining mane and letting it drop several times, "I was educated and accomplished with as much pains as if I were to have a foreign mission and I came back here to what? Listen to this," pulling out the contents of one of the little white envelopes, '"Mrs. H at home I to 6. Cards.' or this, "Mrs. B at home 3 to 5. Kensington.' and this, 'Mrs. X. Y. Z. At home, 2 to 4. Reception.' The rest repeat the same story. I see the same women at all of them, and after the first few times the same clothes. If Mrs. A wears that electric blue costume this year, I shall certainly speak about It to her. The fact Is that society is just a huge woman's cluD, and there is no denying it" Then she added with a frank laugh: "A girl's idea of society is to take it with a liberal pep pering of black coats." "O, that is It? Poor child! But don't you go to balls and are there- no society men in Omaha?" "I go to precious few balls. Miss Roxy, and men seem to have shaken iMIIIHMMIHMIIMIIIIMIIIIMimitHMIMIMIIt.MMMHUHi .12. 0RSTS GOODS Trunks, Valises, Pocket Books, Music Rolls, Shopping Bags, etc. Iidl BeffltHUtifud LeanHheiTo I Wirick's Trunk Factory, i 1036 O Street. Old Trunks in Trade. Repairing Done. i OOMMOOIOCMMIMMMIMMMMItlMMMMMO A. HAYDN MYER .Contractor for.. PLUMBING, Steam and Hot Water Heating. 225 So. 11th St. : : : : Lincoln, Tfcbr MISS L.L. CROW IVES, HOSIERY, ft 1DKUEFS. . You will find them only at s NDtRJON rFTF0.sT0K 2I3 OSTMEETfr The COURIER And any One Dollar Woman's dob Magazine fir in $3.00 purchase entitles customer to premium. 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