... ... to be a Chair- Oh, good gracious! I must pay attention. Mrs. Brown, would you kindly say that over again? The Chair is a little hard of hearing this morning. . . . Thank you so much. Are there any further remarks? (Several ladies are supposed to rise; Mrs. Easyman looks wildly from one to the other.) Which spoke first? Do speak quick, Mrs. Martinet. Oh, yes! Mrs. Downer. . . . Is there any second to the motion? It is moved and seconded to amend the motion by -by substituting (here she is prompted by Mrs. Martinet) by substituting the words "authors' reading" for "vaudeville." Where's she expecting to get authors? But I know I won't say a word. Are you ready for the question? Mrs. Baker. ... Mrs. Crane. (Looks for direction to her coach and rises.) It is moved and seconded to amend the amendment by adding the words "if they can be procured at a reasonable price❞—meaning the authors, I presume, Mrs. Baker? Are there any remarks? Mrs. Hay. (Member is supposed to rise to make a point of order.) State your point. The Chair doesn't think so at all I mean the Chair decides the point not well taken. Mrs. Brown has not spoken to the amendment, only to the-what did she speak to, any how? ... the original motion. Are you ready for the question? Mrs. Cassell. . . . It is moved and seconded to refer the matter to a committee of three appointed by the Chair. Mrs. Brown. . . . State your question.... If there is no objection, Mrs. Brown will be excused to ask the janitor to shut the doors of the outer hall opposite where the basket-ball match is being played. Are you ready for the question? . . . Mrs. Turner. . . . Is there a second? . . . It is moved and seconded to indefinitely postpone-Mrs. Carter. . . . The Chair was just going to make that point; the motion is out of order. Oh, do speak more distinctly, Mrs. Martinet; never mind if they do hear! Amendatory and declinatory motions are of the same rank; and two amendments are before the meeting. Are you ready for the question? I always say that when I haven't anything else to say; it sounds as if I were rushing business. Mrs. Crane. ... It is moved and seconded to refer the matter to the ... Entertainment Committee. Are you ready-(Ladies rise to move and second motion.) Mrs. Brown. Mrs. Crane. . . . What is a committee of the whole? Whole what? You mean we all just sit here and pretend we are a committee? What's the sense of— . . . Oh, yes, I'll put the motion first, and you can explain after. (Rises.) It is moved and seconded that we are a whole committee I beg your pardon, ladies; I told you I didn't know anything about parliamentary law. I forget it all the time. It is moved and seconded that we go into a committee, the whole of us. . . . Well, committee of the whole, then. Really, I don't see that it makes such a killing difference, Mrs. Martinet. . . . Oh, of course you are right. Do excuse me, I really am grateful to you; but I get so harassed with this bug in my ear, and it is a little confusing, you know. Mrs. Brown. She talks very well, doesn't she? . . . But why does she want to go into committee of the whole? ... Well, I wish to mercy they would, then, if they can only discuss the motion and the amendments. . . . They can't hear so far off; and I hold my fan up and never turn my head, so they can't see. Oh, I wouldn't do anything indecorous for the world! Mrs. Wiggles is all ready to speak; I know it by the way she wriggles on her seat, just as if she were sitting on a pin. She's a sweet woman. Did you know she had those moles of hers taken out by electricity? It improves her appearance so much! Mrs. Wiggles (as a lady rises and addresses the Chair). . . . Mrs. Dufferin, do you second Mrs. Wiggles's motion . . . (Rises). It is moved and seconded that the vaudeville be postponed until our next meeting-I mean the discussion of the vaudevilleOh, they understand what I mean, Mrs. Martinet. Arè you ready for the question? (To lady addressing the Chair.) Mrs. Graham. . . . I can hear a buzzing in my ear all the time. And don't you think it perfectly distracting the way they go on? I don't see why she's so down on vaudevilles. They made eight hundred.... Call her to order? Why, Mrs. Martinet, I couldn't do such a thing! . . . Must I? . . . Mrs. Graham, I'm very sorry but you're out of order; you can't talk about the vaudeville, only about postponing it. There, I know she's cross, and I don't blame her; and she was so nice to me at my last party-lent me three dozen napkins and spoons, and her coachman to call the carriages. She's ever so obliging, but a little quick.. Mustn't tell her she was out of order? But you told Ladies, the Chair feels faint, and must ask to sit down a few minutes; the secretary will take the Chair. me . Ode to a London Fog Roll on, thick haze, roll on! What though I must go out to-day? Roll on, thick haze, roll on! Through street and square and lane It's true I cough and cough again; -Anonymous My Young Un 'M PETE. An' I'm a newsboy. This story Nor ain't writ by me, coz I can't write. I can't read, so if anything's took down wrong, it won't be my fault. "A gentleman in one of our offices says to me: 'You tell me the story of your young un, and' I'll take it down, and git it printed.' An' he says to begin at the werry beginnin', w'en I fust seed my young un-a little chap wot I foun' arter his father died, an' he hadn't nothin' but a fiddle in the world. When I fust goes up to him in the Park down to City Hall, and asks him to play, he takes his stick an' pulls it acrost an' acrost the strings, an' makes the wust n'ise ye ever heerd in yer life. He felt so took down when I laughed that I asked him, serious, to keep at it, till he says, lookin' up inter my face dreful disappinted, "They's awful n'ises, ain't they?' I says, 'Wal, no; I've heerd the cats make ten times wus ones nor that. I guess it'll come some time if ye keep a tryin',' an' it cheered him heaps. "So he hugged up his fiddle an' we started down to the corner. An' I says, 'W'ere air ye goin'?' An' he says, 'Noweres.' An' I says, 'Don't ye live noweres?' An' he says, 'No.' An' I says they wasn't no use in it, fur he couldn't no more take keer of hisself than a baby ken, an' he'd have to live with me. An' he says, 'Will you take care o' me?' An' I says, 'Yes, I will.' An' that's the way he come to be my young un. "I axed him wot was his name, an' I can't tell yer it, fur it was one o' them blamed furrin names, an' I couldn't never get it right, so I allus called him jes 'Young Un.' An' he axed me wot was my name, an' I telled him, 'Pete,' an' then we knowed each other. "W'ere do ye live, Pete?' he says; an' I says, 'Wal, I live roun'-jes about roun'-here, I guess. Ye see, I moved this mornin'. An' he says, 'W'ere did ye move to?' An' that was a stunner. I warn't a newsboy then, ye know; I was on'y a loafer. But I seed a airy; so I says, 'Wal, we'll wait till all the lights is put out downstairs in this house, an' then we'll live here ter night. But we mus' go fust an' git our bed afore it's dark,' I says. So we walks roun' to a lot w'ere they was buildin,' an' he waits wile I digs out the bed from under a pile o' stones. Yer see, I had to bury it in the mornin's fur fear o' rag-pickers, 'cause it was a werry good bed, an' comf'table, specially in aries. Wot was it? It was a ole piece o' carpet wot I foun' in front of a house wunst arter some people moved away from it, and it was ez long ez-ez long ez you air, sir, an' longer, too. I takes it under my arm, an' the young un hols on to my other han' an' we finds the airy agin. W'en it's all dark we goes down under the steps, an' I rolls up the carpet kind o' loose, an' tells him ter crawl inside it. 'Will ther' be room fur the fiddle, too?' he says; 'cos, if ther' won't, I don't mind, I ken sleep outside, Pete.' An' he looks so worrited that I sings out, 'Of course, ther' will! De yer think I'd leave the fiddle out ter cotch his death o' cold an' be laid up an' tooken to the orspital?' An' that makes him laugh, an' then he crawls in fust, an' I crawls in last, an' then theer we was, all three of us, squeedged up comf'table together. "This was a long time ago, afore I was a newsboy, w'en I was tryin' to sot up a broom at the crossin's; but brooms was hard to git. We tried all next day beggin' an' on'y got two cents, an' we was so cold an' hungry that I says to young un' 'Let's begin again in the mornin', an' let's have a treat to-night.' So we did; an' we had reg'lar good fun goin' to a shop to buy our supper, 'stead o' beggin' it. I makes him an' the baker woman laugh axin' her to guv me 'the most she can of anything for two cents.' An' I tell ye wot, she was a jolly woman, too, for she guv us a lot o' bread, an' then she told us to hold on a bit, an' she went into another room an' bringed us out in her apron a lot o' splendid stale goodies an' some ellegant bits o' sugar wot was broke off a real weddin' cake. She did somethin' else, too. W'en the young un looked up at her an' says, 'You's good!' an' tuk hold of her gownd, she stooped down suddent, an' she put her two arms roun' him, an' kissed him! An' he dropped his fiddle-think o' that! He dropped his fiddle, wot he never let go of night or day afore. An' he put his arms roun' her neck an' hid his face agin |