A CURE FOR DUDES. SCENE. The piazza of a large summer hotel at Bar Harbor, Mount Desert. Mr. Aniseseed Hunt is discovered impassively surveying the view from the piazza. He is dressed in clothes of a subdued color, his shoes are pointed and of patent leather; his cut-away coat is ornamented with a boutonière. HUNT. This is a most unfortunate place for me to have turned up in. I cannot imagine why I ever came here. Why, fancy! I was having a most satisfactory time at Newport, when all of a sudden I said to myself, "What is this place, Mount Desert?" And I am such a creature of impulse that the next day I was on the railway. I really must learn COPYRIGHT, 1888, BY F. E. CHASE, to govern my impulses, for when one gives way to an impulse, there is no knowing where it may land one. Now, this particular impulse has landed me at Mount Desert. It is beastly stupid here, and I am dreadfully bored, but then one is awfully bored everywhere. I feel lonely too; no matter how many resources a man has (and I brought three boxes and two portmanteaus, besides my canes and umbrellas), he sometimes feels lonely. I wonder what all this rabble ever find to do here! After one has looked at the water, the mountains, and this uncommonly hideous village, one seems to be at the end of one's rope. Still they come in such crowds, summer after summer, that they must find amusement here. There is usually very little enjoyment for a gentleman in an American crowd, and I am deucedly uncomfortable here too. I acted so entirely on impulse that I did n't bespeak my room in advance, and the wretch of a hotel clerk put me in the cupola of the hotel. When I rang or rather howled for a tub this morning, the boy told me that guests were not allowed to do their washing in the hotels themselves, and that I must send for a washerwoman. Fancy! What a stream of people go by here, and yet I don't see any one whom I know. I That girl over there with the big hat looks as if she might be rather jolly, but she is dressed very badly; and, dear me, what big feet she has! She must be a Boston girl, and in the winter, I suppose, she wears spectacles and talks Greek. really believe that the only person I know in this confounded hole of Bar Harbor is Miss Clementine Rogers. By the way, how ridiculous it is to call this place Bar Harbor, when they have a prohibitory liquor law here, and a fellow can't get anything to drink, unless he goes down cellar. Now, |