Friday, June 24, 2005

A Teaspoonful of Calf's-foot Jelly

I have been reading T.Dewitt Talmage and this chapter is on recreation and the blessings and the temptations of vacations. The “watering place” he refers to is a resort where we go to relax and get away. He gives a series of warnings and his colorful style just had to be shared. I agree with his premise but have to laugh at his descriptions. Enjoy—

“ Another temptation hovering around the watering place is to the formation of hasty and lifelong alliances. The watering places are responsible for more of the domestic infelicities of this country than all other causes combined. Society is so artificial there that no sure judgment of character can be formed. Those who form companionships amid such circumstances go into a lottery where there are twenty blanks to one prize. In the severe tug of life you want more than glitter and flash. Life is not a ballroom where the music decides the step; nor can bow and prance and graceful swing of long trail make up for strong common sense. You might as well go among the gaily painted yachts of a summer regatta to find war vessels as to go among the light spray of the summer watering place to find character that can stand the test of the great struggle of human life.
Ah, in the battle of life you want a stronger weapon than a lace fan or a croquet mallet!
The load of life is so heavy that in order to draw it, you want a team stronger than one made up of a masculine grasshopper and a feminine butterfly.
If there is any man in the community who excited my contempt, and who ought to excite the contempt of ever man and woman, it is the soft-handed, soft-headed fop, who, perfumed until the air is actually sick, spends his summer in taking killing attitudes, and waving sentimental adieus, and talking infinitesimal nothings, and finding his heaven in the fit of a lavender kid-glove. Boots as tight as an inquisition; two hours of consummate skill exhibited in the tie of a flaming cravat; his conversation made up of “Ahs,” and “Ohs,” and “He-hees.” It would take five hundred of them stewed down to make a teaspoonful of calf’s-foot jelly. There is only one counterpart to such a man as that, and that is the frothy young woman at the watering places, her conversations made up of French moonshine………….”

“Finding his heaven in the fit of a lavender kid-glove; and the woman made up of French moonshine.” I love it!!!!!

1 comment:

fcb4 said...

He is a master of language. Simply extraordinary!
I loathe him...