Hard Case.

1895

It was said of Hiram Wilson's conversational powers that they were "enough to turn the most knowledgeable folks scatter witted for the time being," and when he began to tell a story groups of men melted away as if by magic.

"I was goin by the Widder Follet's this mornin," he began one day as he joined the group around the new village pump, "at least I say goin by, an I dunno why I say goin by, for I wa'n't exackly. I was just goin along, as old Sam'l Gill used to tell about — leastways I dunno why I say old, for he wa'n't so turrible old — not much older'n most of us here — leastways I dunno's I orter say most of us, for there's Peter Franklin that I've heered tell — that is t' say, I ain't ever exackly heerd, bein as I'm so deef from the rheumaticks settlin in my ears, an I dunno's I've any call to say rheumaticks 'nother, for there was one doctor told me — leastways I dunno's he act'lly was a doctor, but he made out — an I dunno but made out's a kind of a ha'sh way to put it, but ye see he" —

At this point Mr. Wilson paused and looked about him. The legs of his last listener were vanishing around the corner of the postoffice, and he was left alone.

"Well, I never see anythin like it," said Mr. Wilson in an aggrieved tone as he proceeded to follow his late audience. "Seems 's if a man couldn't tell a succumstance — an I dunno's I'd orter say succumstance, for it wa'n't" — His voice died away in an inarticulate murmur as the postoffice door closed behind him. — Youth's Companion.

He Settled

1895

"Dere you vas, you driflin buppy!"

A picturesquely attired old German lady, with a broad, ruddy face, marred by a ferocious scowl, had stopped a handsomely dressed young fellow who was just in the act of stepping off the curb at the corner of Fourth and Walnut streets to cross the street.

"Vy you don't bay me dot fife tollar you vas owe me? You dinks I vash — vash for nodings?"

Two young ladies near by were amused listeners, and the young man was visibly embarrassed.

"My good woman, on what grounds do you claim I owe you $5?"

"Vot grounds? Vot — vot" —

In her rage she brought one big foot down heavily on the slushy pavement.

"Vot grounds? Dese grounds right here — Fourdt and Valnut, und I vant my money."

The young man paid her on "the grounds" mentioned. — Cincinnati Tribune.


Smokers' Cramp

A disease has appeared in Europe which has been styled smokers' cramp. It is very similar in its effects to writers' cramp, or scriveners' palsy. The disease is caused by rolling cigarettes with one hand. For many years it has been common to Spain, although some smokers are so expert as to make a cigarette with a single twist of the fingers. Since a law was recently passed in France permitting the manufacture of handmade cigarettes large numbers of girls have been employed in rolling cigarettes by hand.

It is among them that the disease has appeared. In Spain, however, it is not confined to the cigarette girls, but is a common ailment. — Philadelphia Record.

Dialect in Novels

1895

The Time Coming When Good English Will Be Written.

There are indications — not very marked as yet, but still indications — that the day of the dialect versifier and story teller is waning. The literary epidemic for which he is responsible has raged with unabated virulence in this country for the past ten years or more. But all epidemics exhaust themselves in time, and we are encouraged to believe that this one is nearly spent. A tabulation of the contents of our popular magazines would now, we think, show a smaller proportion of pages unreadable for their bad spelling than would have been disclosed by a similar investigation made two years ago. Many a literary worker is beginning to suspect that to misspell as many words as possible is not exactly the noblest of ambitions. We by no means anticipate the complete disappearance of the dialect element from our imaginative literature, nor would such a reaction be desirable. But we do expect the time to come when dialect shall occupy its proper place in composition and be treated as a means rather than as an end. There is an important distinction between the story written for the sake of dialect and the use of dialect for the sake of the story. The latter practice is as excusable or even praiseworthy as the former is reprehensible.

When used with discrimination and artistic restraint, dialect is, of course, an admissible element in both poetry and fiction. English literature would be far the poorer without the treasures of Scotch dialect preserved in the poems of Burns and the novels of the author of "Waverley." Likewise we could ill spare the work of the Provencal poets from the literature of France, of Goldoni's Venetian comedies from that of Italy or of Reuter's Plattdeutsch tales from that of Germany. Even in our country a similar plea may be made for the language of Hosea Biglow, or of Mr. Cable's creoles, or of Miss Murfree's Tennessee mountaineers. But the swarm of commonplace and uninspired scribblers of dialect that have descended upon our periodical press during the past decade need not hope to find a safe refuge in the shadow of such really significant names as have been cited. Their pretensions are too utterly without warrant and their productions too entirely without justification. — Chicago Dial.

The Military Salute

1895

The military salute required in almost all civilized countries is nearly the same. Perhaps in Germany, however, the regulations are somewhat more stringent. A soldier on meeting the emperor has to stand still, face about and remain with hand raised for from 12 to 20 paces before his majesty approaches and for the same distance after he has passed. In Belgium an officer has to do the same thing for the king and subalterns for generals, though ten paces only are required for the latter case. Soldiers carrying anything so that their hands are quite occupied salute with their eyes — that is, they turn their heads in the direction of the person coming and going. French officers raise their caps to each other, but the privates do as the privates in other armies do. — London Standard.


Costly Business

"Looked here, mister, kin yo' tell me whar dey git marriage sustificates?" inquired an old colored individual of one of the bailiffs at the city hall the other day. The bailiff steered him toward the clerk's office. When he appeared before one of the gentlemen who issue the small slip of paper so requisite to the eternal happiness of a pair whom Cupid has visited, he repeated his request.

"Yes, sah; she hab a funny name; but, Lor, I don' know how she spells it," he said in answer to the clerk's question. "I alwa' jes' call her Luc fo' short. Do yo' wan' to know her age? She's jes' 25. I'm 65. Dat's a little discrepshon in our ages, but it don' matter. What money I makes I get at de top o' telegraph poles — dat is, I'm a lineman."

After venturing these remarks the old man stopped a minute to renew his supply of oxygen and then inquired the fee.

"Dat's purty strong, mistar. It's a purty costly bizness, dis her' gettin married, even when I'ze gwine to git a young an han'som' bride," said the old man as he fumbled in an aged purse and laid three quarters, two dimes and a nickel before the clerk. — Nashville Times.

A Microbe That Is Hard to Kill

1895

Professor Renk, who is engaged in making some interesting experiments on the vitality of the comma bacilli, the so called "microbe of cholera," has found that they will live for some time and exhibit all their usual liveliness in a temperature 10 degrees colder than freezing.

A single "culture" of these germs in a bowl of beef broth, reduced to a temperature of from 5 to 7 degrees below the zero of the centigrade thermometer, which is about the same as 20 to 23 above the zero mark of the Fahrenheit instrument, were unusually lively at the end of 100 hours' exposure.

He found, however, that as they were uninterruptedly exposed to such a degree of cold for a longer period than that mentioned above they gradually lost vitality and at the end of five days were perfectly lifeless and utterly unable to do damage should they be taken into the human system. — St. Louis Republic.


A Sight at Night

Smythe — Too bad Miss Brown's so awfully nearsighted, isn't it, Chawles?
Chumley — Y-a-as, me boy.
Smythe — Why, d'ye know, I've been told she weahs her glasses to bed.
Chumley — How's that, Haw-wy?
Smythe — So's she can wecognize the people she meets in her dweams. — Philadelphia Times.

Easy Sum

1895

"What does 'quartered oak' mean, father?" inquired little Dennis McKay, who had been reading the advertisement of a large furniture manufacturing company.

"An here's the resoolts av iddication!" ejaculated Mr. McKay, with an expression of great contempt on his ruddy face. "Here's me b'y that's been a-addin an subthractin, mooltiplyin an dividin for the lasht sivin years coom nixt Daycimber, an has to ask his poor owld fayther the manin of a simple little soom loike that."

"Why, I didn't know" — began Dennis, much abashed, but his father gave a deprecatory wave of his right hand.

"And fwy didn't ye know?" he broke in. "Fwy? Because the cooltivation av common sinsce is not included in your coorycoolum at school, that's fwy. Stan me oop in a row, an ask me how manny is elivin, sivinteen, twinty-wan and forrty-four, an it's mesilf that ud have nivver wurrd to say. But let me casht me oy inter a windy where there's chape chairs an tables an other furnitoor, marked 'quarthered oak,' an the owld shtory av the apple cut inter four paces, that was larnt me as a b'y, cooms roight back to me.

"There's four quarthers to ivery blissed thin in this wurrld, Dennis, me son, an whin a table is 'quarthered oak' accoordin to the man that sells it, be the same token you may know it's thray quarthers poine, aven if he makes no mintion av it." — Youth's Companion.

Comment: I hate this kind of dialect stuff. I don't know precisely why anyone ever thought it was funny. But it likely had something to do with the 'melting pot' before it was really melted through. It definitely sets the spell-checker off.

Mechanical Music

1895

The Wail of a Professor Who Declares That Learning Is a Lost Art.

"What for I look blue?" said the professor. "I will tell you. I look blue because my beezness is being — what you call him? — keeked out. No — ah, yes — knocked out by the maker of those stupid mechanique instruments of music. There is no longer any need to learn the piano, for, see, all you do now is bring in the telegraphique wires from the street, and the piano will play itself. Organ — no. Buy some rolls of papaire and put him in the organ and turn the crank, so, and out will come anything you wish from Strauss to Cherubini. Mandolin — no. For some much too clever Yankee has make another something which you shall button to the piano, and there, my faith, you have your mandolin. Zither — no. For there are the zithers now that you play with a steek. Chord of F, press this steek; cord of B, press that steek, and so on. There is no more need to learn anything.

"Mademoiselle say to me, 'Ah, professor, why should I practice any more when Mees So-and-so, who nevaire took the lesson in her life, has an electrique piano which can play everything as well as you do when she press a leedle button?' And I say, 'Why, indeed?' Then madame say to me, 'Ah, professor, I shall geeve up the mandolin, for I can put a leedle thing to the piano and make it play like the mandolin weeth two fingers.' And I say, `Ah, so?' Then monsieur say, 'Professor, I guess I give up the organ and buy one of those windyphones like Billee Sweetzer have, where all you have to do is to move the feet, and the music come out joost as good as you play,' and I say, 'Was that so?'

'And it ees so. The mechanique music have knocked me out. There is no heart any more to learn anything that take time and patience when you can have all the good music that you like by pressing the leedle button and moving the feet. It ees not the music of the soul, to be sure; maybe it ees not the music of the expression; maybe it ees not music at all. Bah! Who cares? All you want is the tune, just like the organ man and piano woman on the street. Arteest be dam. Vive la mechanique! I am going home to invent a violin electrique and an automatique flute that you shall play with your knees." — New York Sun.

In Vain

1895

Here is a story on a Washington girl. She is of a philanthropical and humane turn of mind, and prevention of cruelty to animals is her hobby. In walking along by Lafayette square she saw an object that excited her sympathies. A forlorn looking cart horse had a piece of wide yellow ribbon tied between its ears, the ends flapping over its eyes so that she was sure the poor thing could not see anything at all. Stopping the cart, she motioned to the old darky who was driving to get down. The old man respectfully obeyed.

"This is absolute cruelty," she said imperiously. "That poor creature must be almost wild with that rag flapping over his eye. Take it off. The poor thing can't see at all."

"Lor, miss," said the old darky, "dat hoss bin stone blind fo' many a year!" — Washington Post.

More Jokes

1916

The Short Course

When James A. Garfield was president of Oberlin college, a man brought for entrance as a student his son, for whom he wished a shorter course than the regular one.

"The boy can never take all that in," said the father. He wants to get through quicker. Can you arrange it for him?"

"Oh, yes," said Mr. Garfield. He can take a shorter course; it all depends on what you want to make of him. When God wants to make an Oak, He takes a hundred years, but He takes only two months to make a pumpkin."


Young Poultryman

The teacher had recited "The Landing of the Pilgrims." Then she requested each pupil to draw from his or her imagination a picture of Plymouth Rock.

Most of them went to work at once, but one little fellow hesitated, and at length raised his hand.

"Well, Willie, what is it?" asked the teacher.

"Please, ma'am, do you want us to draw a hen or a rooster?"


A Blunder

It was bathing time and from the bedroom of twin boys came the sound of hearty laughter and long crying. Their father went up to find the cause. "What's the matter up here?" he inquired.

The laughing twin pointed to his weeping brother. "Nothing," he giggled; "only nurse has given Alexander two baths and hasn't given me any at all."


Nothing Very Serious

Mrs. Casey — Och, Pat, whin the docther told yez ye had something wid a Latin name to it a yar-rd long, didn't it scare yez?
Casey — Faith, it did, Norah, darlint. But whin he only charged me a dollar, Oi knew it didn't amount to much.

Bets on Race; Nevah Again!

1915

Virginia Gentleman Is Bittah Because Mistah Millah Wins His $1,000

PHILADELPHIA. Pa., Dec. 16. — A peanut grower from Virginia placed a cool thousand dollars on a race horse in a well-appointed apartment and lost. He is now touring the central section of the city with a detective in an endeavor to find the apartment and two men who escaped with the money he lost.

"Nevah again will I visit youah city, suh," said the indignant plantation owner, T. M. Edwards of Rushmere, Va. Edwards says a chance acquaintance introduced him to a man named Miller.

"Mistah Millah was represented to me as being the gentleman who won back Judge Grinell's fortune by playing the hosses," said Edwards. "I was prevailed upon to go to New York to get $1,000, and returned here today. I put up the money and lost. So did my friend.

"Mr. Millah won all. My friend was very bittah against Mistah Millah and vowed he would shoot him and get my money back. Then he disappeared."


Pleas for Woman's Life Win

OTTAWA, Ont., Dec. 16. — The women of Alberta have won their fight to save the life of Mrs. Annie Hawkes of Macleod, sentenced to hang for the killing of her husband's affinity. Announcement was made that executive clemency has been extended and the sentence commuted to 10 years' imprisonment.

Hundreds of petitions protesting against the death sentence imposed upon Mrs. Hawkes were received here. The plea was made that Mrs. Hawkes while hysterical killed the woman who had been brought into her home.

Scotch Is Greek to Her

1900

An exchange quotes the following conversation between husband and wife. She suddenly addresses him: "What are you reading so absorbingly?"

"It's a new Scotch novel."

"Oh!" cries the wife, with enthusiasm. "I'm so fond of those dear dialect things! Do read me a little!"

"Can you understand it?"

"Can I understand it?" she repeats, loftily. "Well, I should hope anything you are reading need not be Greek to me!"

"No, but it might be Scotch."

"Well, go on, read just where you are."

"'Ye see, Elspie,' said Duncan, doucely, 'I might hae mair the matter wi' me than ye wad be spierin'. Aiblins ma een is a bit dazzlit, an' I'm hearin' the poolses thuddin' in ma ears, an' ma toongue is clavin' when it sud be gaein'; an' div ye no hear the dirlin' o' ma hairt, an' feel the shakin' o' ma hond this day gin I gat a glimpse o' ye, sair hirplin' like an auld mon? Div ye nae guess what's a' the steer, hinney, wi'out me gaein' it mair words?'"

"Stop! Stop! For goodness' sake! What in the world is the creature trying to say?"

-He's making a declaration of love."

"A declaration of love! I thought he was telling a lot of symptoms to his doctor!" — Youth's Companion.

He Offers Free Insanity Certificate

1900

A generous if not alluring offer was that made by an exasperated physician to the penurious father of an insane young man.

The old man wished to secure his son's admission to the insane asylum, but seemed unwilling to pay for the necessary certificate.

After hearing his plea of poverty — which the doctor knew to be false — and hearing him also tell of the many expenses to which he had been put by his ungrateful children, the physician waved his hand to end the recital.

"Now see here," he said, sharply, "you just pay me for this one, and I'll give you a certificate for yourself whenever you wish to use it, for nothing!"


An Effort To Explain

A gentleman who had engaged an intelligent French maid was at work in his library at one end of his house, when it struck him, from certain sounds, that something must be wrong in the drawing-room, at the other end of the house. So he rang his bell, and the maid came.

"What are those cries that I seem to hear in the direction of the drawing-room, Marie?" he asked.

"I do not precisely know, monsieur," she answered. "At one time I sink it is madame who sing, and at anozzer time I am sure it is ze cat and ze dog who fight, monsieur!" — Youth's Companion.

A Foreign Tongue

1900

On the strength of a story printed in the Washington Star, it may be said that it is a wise person that knows his own vernacular after the dialect-writer is done with it.

"What on earth is de matter wid yoh talk?" asked Piccaninny Jim's mother.

"Dat talk what I was jes' now talkin'?"

"Yassir."

"Oh, dat aint sho-nuff talk! Ev'ybody's gotter speak in school, an' de teacher is learnin' me a negro dialeck piece."


Unsettled

"Can you tell me what sort of weather we may expect next month?" wrote a subscriber to an editor; and according to the Cumberland Presbyterian, the editor replied as follows:

"It is my belief that the weather next month will be very much like your subscription."

The inquirer wondered what the editor meant, till he happened to think of the word "unsettled." — Youth's Companion.

Trivia and Humor — Uncle Eben's Philosophy

1911

Uncle Eben's Philosophy
"Some men hates work so bad," said Uncle Eben, "they would kick on de responsibility of keepin' an eight-day clock wound up."

Sun Injures Mirrors
A mirror should never be hung where the sun shines directly upon it. The mercury spread on the glass to form a looking-glass is soon ruined by exposure to rays of the sun.

Profit in Cattle Raising
Prices paid to Argentine cattle raisers have been rising steadily for the last twenty-five years.

Cause of Red Hair
Red hair is of that color, says a scientific journal, because it has in its composition a larger proportion Of sulphur than black hair.

His Path in Life
Blessed is he who has found his work. Let him ask no other blessedness. He has a work — a life purpose; he has found it, and will follow it. — Carlyle.

Every Deed Has Weight
Every man's actions form a center of influences upon others, and every deed, however trivial, has some weight in determining the future destiny of the world.

A Better Record-Book

1904

The shrewd comment of a Lancashire blacksmith, whose wits had not been dulled by over-education, is quoted by the Cornhill Magazine. It may be suggestive to students in our universities who spend the lecture hours in scribbling notes instead of listening and understanding.

The clerk in charge of a farriery class held by the county council at Preston, England, gave a stalwart blacksmith a notebook and pencil.

"Wot's this 'ere book for?" asked toe man.

"To take notes," replied the clerk.

"'Notes?' Wot sort o' notes?"

"Why, anything that the lecturer says that you think important and want to remember you make a note of in the book."

The Lancashireman looked scornful. "Oh!" said he. "Anything I want to remember I must make a note of in this 'ere book, must I? Then wot do you think my blooming yed's for?"


For A Dog's Ear

Rossini lived before the day of special pleas for the dog, but he was sufficiently in advance of his time to recognize the equality if not the superiority of his own favorite beast.

The Gentleman's Magazine says that the late Sir Arthur Sullivan made Rossini's acquaintance in Paris.

One morning when Sullivan called to see him he found the composer trying over a piece of music.

"What is that?" asked Sullivan.

"It's my dog's birthday," Rossini replied, gravely, "and I write a little piece for him every year."

Keeping His Word

1904

Sandy is the resident janitor of one of the smaller colleges. He is a bit of a character in his way, and makes an effort not to be outdone by the students. The success is sometimes on one side, sometimes on the other. Sandy owned a little mean-looking dog, of which he was fond. He was treated to much good-humored chaff about the dog, but always replied in kind, frequently asserting, "I widna tak twinty dulthers for ma wee doggy."

A few of the more waggish freshmen made up their minds to test Sandy's assertion. Between them they made up twenty dollars, and one of their number was authorized on the first favorable opportunity to make Sandy an offer.

As was quite common with him, Sandy happened into the cloak-room between lectures. The dog soon became a subject of debate, and out came Sandy's statement, "I widna tak twinty dulthers for ma wee doggy."

"Well, Sandy," said a young freshman, "I would like to have that dog, and here's twenty dollars if you'll sell him," He counted the money out on the table near Sandy.

Without a smile Sandy gravely put his hand in his pocket, drew out a fifty-cent piece, and laid it on the table, at the same time pocketing the twenty dollars. "I didna say I widna tak nineteen fufty. The wee doggy's yourn."


The Test
By John B. Tabb

The dead there are, who live;
The living, who are dead:
The poor, who still can give;
The rich, who lack for bread:
By Love it is, and Love alone,
That Life or Luxury is known.

Funnygraphs — "He Fell Unconscientious"

1900

McAisy — I do be seein' that Misther Hardin' has quit findin' out things. O'Deer — But whin did he ever begin?

It was the colored pugilist who said: "It on'y lasted one roun'. I landed on he chin and he fell unconscientious."

"What's the difference between wrath and a woman who wants you to subscribe for something?" "I dunno." "A soft answer turneth away wrath."

"Would you call a cat herbivorous, carnivorous or ominvorous?" asked the man who is learned, but tedious. "Neither," answered the man who yawns; "merely vociferous."

"You've got your linen suit on a trifle early, Hopkins," "Yes; but my folks are interested in a rummage sale; and when I carry my clothes around with me I know where they are."

A man smoking a cigarette boarded a Union traction car, and a woman handed him an anti-cigarette tract. "Thank you, ma'am," said he. "I'll take it home to my son." — Muncie Star.

He — A live donkey, you know, is better than a dead lion. She — Yes. He — Why are you looking around in that way? She — I'm looking for the dead lion that made the comparison pop into your mind.

Thompson — Jones was around early this morning to borrow my snow shovel. Robinson — Great Scott! What does he want with it this time of the year? Thompson — He doesn't want to use it now. Brown borrowed it last fall, and Jones didn't get a shot at it the whole winter, and he is determined Brown should not get ahead of him this year.

She Teaches Correct Speech

1910

A woman of culture and travel has made a glorious success teaching correct speech. It is surprising how much incorrect speech there is among our educated people. They cling to provincialisms, incorrect pronunciations, wrong use of words and unmusical intonations. The southerner holds to the soft, r-less utterance of his "mammy" days; the middle westerner flattens all his vowels; the Bostonian throws his r's completely out of joint.

This woman undertook to correct such errors and teach a pure, perfect, English speech to a few young women. She became so successful that she was compelled to start a school of correct English which has grown to great proportions. This particularly promising field is open to every town in America. — Delineator


Good Advice

"And now, son," said the old rabbit, "here's a bit of advice. Always keep on the good side of a dog."

"But, pop," queried the youngster, who was about to go forth into the big world, "which is the good side of a dog?"

"The outside, son," answered the old rabbit, as he bit off another hunk of cabbage.


Tired

Some people are so tireless that they become positively tiresome.

A Chinese Trick Explained — "Melican Man Do Findee Out"

1878

George III, it is reported, was once puzzled when eating apple dumplings to know how the apple got inside the dumpling.

During a recent Chinese banquet at San Francisco an orange was laid at the plate of each guest. The fruit, on being cut open, was found to contain five kinds of delicate jellies. Colored eggs were also served, in the inside of which were found nuts, jellies, meats and confections. When one of the Americans asked the interpreter to explain this legerdemain of cookery, he laughed heartily, shook his head and replied: "Melican man heap smart — why he not findee out?"

The orange "trick" is easy to see through. A hole about of the size a ten-cent piece is made in the skin, through which the pulp is taken out; then one kind of jelly, warmed so that it will run, is poured into the orange; when it has cooled another is poured in, and so on until the orange is filled. When the jellies are different colors, the effect on cutting the orange is very striking.



He Made a Mistake

A Michigan farmer, named Harris, has had so many adventures with burglars that he never dares in go to market, in Detroit, without having a gun behind him in his wagon.

Soon after daylight last Tuesday he saw something on the highway that looked like a horse blanket, and while he was getting out of the wagon to pick it up a man confronted him and cried out: "I was waiting for you to come along." Without delay the cautions farmer seized his gun and fired a charge of bird shot almost in the face of the enemy, who retreated in great disorder, screaming and yelling.

The farmer drove on very complacently, thinking that he would have a good story for the boys at the tavern, but discovered a few yards down the road a broken wagon loaded with poultry. The man whom he had stuffed with bird shot was not a robber, but a small farmer who had lost his horse blanket and gone back to look for it.

The repentant marksman went back and tried to comfort his unfortunate fellow-traveler, and found him sitting on a log and counting the wounds — some thirty or more.

Note: "Last Tuesday was sometime in January 1878 or perhaps 1877 sometime. By the way, how do you like the guy's policy of shoot first and ask questions later? Not so good. He could've pulled the gun and had the guy state his business.

"Left Clothes on Ship by Mistake," Says Paris Actress Noted for Legs

1920
Click picture for nice big copy

American Legs Shapely

French Girl With Million Dollar Limbs Won't Compete With American Women

NEW YORK, March 3. — The French girl with the "million dollar legs" won't bet a cent on 'em against American competition.

Mlle. Andre Spinelli, who walked into the European hall of fame on "the most shapely limbs in the world," looked down from the balcony on a scantily clad Zeigfeld chorus girl going through rehearsal steps and said:

"No, I will not say I have ze best."

And the conversation turned to legs.

Whereupon the noted little French danseuse freed herself of some personal secrets.

"On ze other side it es ze whole shape," with a sweeping gesture from the shoulders down.

"Ze Americans also zink ze leg is only from here to here," pointing from a dainty bare ankle to a dimpled knee that peeped out below a flaming pair of wildly combined colors in crepe de chine junior breeches.

"But on ze other side zey call it ze leg from here down" marking the start at the hip where a brief white "hug-me-tight" sweater reached its farthest.

"Most of my clothes got on ze Adriatic by mistake and aren't here yet," she added and no one questioned it.

"Ze papers say I have ze most beautiful legs in ze world. Well, I do not know. I will let ze Americans judge for themselves. I never say I have ze best but I do say I have ze fine shape. So have all ze American girls I have seen. Oh, oui, oui.

"I do not like ze talk about ze legs. Ze people will zink zat's all I have, I have ze whole shape. And I sing and I act. I like to do ze comedy and I am going to do it.

"What are ze ideal limbs? I could not say. I am not ze man. Look, what you say?"

The reporter didn't say.