Here is something a little bit lighthearted (and a bit misogynistic) after abortions, bank robberies and murder.
THE OLD FELLOW LOVED KISSES
So Upon Columbus Day He Kissed a Car Full.
The Old Maid Liked It, But the Married Woman Kicked
As everyone who was in New Orleans upon Columbus Day is aware, the streets were thronged with women beautiful and otherwise, who constituted a greater attraction than the procession. Many bachelors and even some married men were seen to smack their lips when pretty girls and handsome matrons passed them. It was but natural, and the ladies liked it. Providence created their mother in the Garden of Eden for the adoration and recreation of mankind, and they appreciate every involuntary tribute, whether exclamation or look, which evidences the appreciation of a man.
Without male adoration a woman feels lonesome. She has other gods, dress, silk underwear, jewelery, all manner of luxury, but without some breeched fool who protests he loves her, she is unhappy. Young or old, beautiful or homely, female critters, as Artemus Ward styled them, want men to love them. Love in this century is conventionally expressed by osculation. A man may blarney a woman as much as he can, but unless he kisses her she is not confident of his fervor. The kiss, the moist pressure of lips, is the nineteenth century proof of admiration.
On Columbus Day this was illustrated in a car on the Common street line. An elderly gentleman, who had evidently toasted the Genoese very frequently, boarded the car, put his fare in the box, and then surveyed his fellow passengers. They were all ladies. He evidently appreciated the fact, for he incontinently started in to kiss the whole outfit. He was impartial in the matter, to him everything in petticoats was kissable, for he began at the front end of the car and essayed to kiss them all. The young girls took his gallantry well, regarding him some what as a papa, but when he approached a stout matron and pushed out his lips, she gave him a look which scared him off.
Next to the matron sat an old maid, who pursed her lips scornfully when the old Lothario kissed the girls. However, when he approached her, her face softened and looked like that of a calf which sees a pail of milk at hand. After his repulse by the matron, the amative old buck bent to kiss the old maid. Up to then he had taken kisses, it was consequently a surprise to receive one. The old maid reached up as he bowed, clasped him around the neck, and kissed him with such heart that he was taken aback.
That old maid’s kissed cooled him off. It was too much, being the concentration of many years’ longing for the taste of a man’s lips. An old maid likes a kiss better than a toper likes whiskey. In consequence of the kiss, severals buds missed a salute from the old fellow, for it scared him off. The ardor of the kiss evoked visions of matrimony, breach of promise, divorce, and all the kindred evils which women entail upon men. He kissed no more. Fortunately for him he was white-haired, otherwise he might have had to settle with the male relatives of those whom he kissed. The enjoyment was not all his his, for the kisses took delight in it, and – as one of the young girls remarked – the married women would have also taken a kiss with pleasure had not she feared her husband’s jealousy.
The Mascot. October 29, 1892.
Ah, where is Gloria Steinem and a good can of mace when you need it?