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"Mon Dieu, ze mal der mer!" he had exclaimed "Ze bouleversement of ze vagues! Ze choses terribles! Ze femmes sick! zen men of ze coleur blieu! Ah, quel ravissement to be in ze land!"
I wrote a poem for the Scoop Club Edition of the Laurel Globe ... "The Bottoms now I sing, where whiskey flows And two-cent makes life coleur de rose, Where negro shanties line the sordid way And rounders wake by night who sleep by day " By noon of the day, hints of what was coming were riding the winds of general report.... Carefully we read the proofs.
There lay the city, most invitingly to storm-tost tars, with its white palaces, green groves, and yellow belt of sand, blue hills in the distance, and all else coleur de rose. But but, Emmy, there was no getting at this paradise, except by struggling through a couple of miles of raging foam, that would have made mince-meat of the Spanish Armada, and have smashed Sir William Elphinston to pieces.
There lay the city, most invitingly to storm-tost tars, with its white palaces, green groves, and yellow belt of sand, blue hills in the distance, and all else coleur de rose. But but, Emmy, there was no getting at this paradise, except by struggling through a couple of miles of raging foam, that would have made mince-meat of the Spanish Armada, and have smashed Sir William Elphinston to pieces.
A tight-fitting coat, short-waisted and long-tailed, wide sleeves, and large mother-of-pearl buttons; the cuffs and high-standing collar were richly embroidered in silver; his vest was "coleur de chair," and instead of a long plait, William had covered his hair with a powdered wig.
Zhe swee Edward Jones. Vooley voo take a walk? Eecy ate oon fine place to sit down. Bokoo moon to-night, nace paw? Avay voo ever studied palmistry? Donney mwa votr hand. Votr hand ay tray soft! Dahn lay Zaytah Unee are bokoo girls, may voo zay more beautiful than any of them. Chay mwa zhe nay pah seen a girl that could touch voo! Voo zay oon peach! Le coleur de votr yer ay tray beautiful.
"You poor child!" he said; "and you think the world outside this sea, and these sandhills, is all sunshine and coleur de rose. Well, think so it's a harmless delusion, and one that won't last. And whatever betides," he said this earnestly, "whatever this new life brings, you'll never blame me, Edith, for having taken you away from the old one?" "Never!" she answered. And she kept her word.
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