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The ladies are divided into three classes; the young girl you address as "tee-tee"; the young person as "seester"; the more mature charmer as "mammy"; but I do not advise you to employ these terms when you are on your first visit, because you might get misunderstood.

Yet this is the fellow who was so concerned for the feelings of certain sawciety she- males who personated French prostitutes at the Bradley-Martin debauch, that when I criticized their brazen bid for "business" he came near having hydrophobia. Did the Tee-Tee trogolodyte contain within his anthropodial diaphragm a single diatom of decency he would have applauded Mrs.

I sometimes wish the ICONOCLAST had no lady readers, that I might freely express my opinion of such pestiferous pole-cats. I dearly love the ladies, but they are awfully in the way when only full-grown adjectives will do a subject justice. If the Tee-Tee editor had half the gumption of a Kansas Gopher he would know that neither Mrs. Davis nor any other American woman made such "demand."

My angel-wife was surprised, stood thrumming at the piano, wondered she could not catch this very odd bit of discordant accord at all, but checked herself in her effort, as soon as I observed that her long notes and short notes, in their tum-tee, tee, tee-tee, tee-tum tum, meant, "He's her brother."

In years to come I may perchance be reminded of this night, with the tee-tee of the bird on the bank, the glimmer of the distant light on the boat off the other shore, the shining expanse of river, the blur of shade thrown by the dark fringe of trees along its edge, and the white sky gleaming overhead in unconcerned aloofness. 7th April 1892.

Next day we saw another flock of seven; I suppose that in each case it was the old one and young of the year. As they flew they uttered three different notes: a deep horn-like "too" or "coo," a higher pitched "coo," and a warble-like "tootle-tootle," or sometimes simply "tee-tee."

To-night the moon is at its full, and its large, round face peers at me through the open window on my left, as if trying to make out whether I have anything to say against it in my letter, it suspects, maybe, that we mortals concern ourselves more with its stains than its beams. A bird is plaintively crying tee-tee on the sand-bank. The river seems not to move. There are no boats.