THE WEAKER SEX.—I.
The first drawing of this series gives a necessarily imperfect portrait of the hero, since he is discovered in the act of carrying on two conversations at a time.
THE WEAKER SEX.—II.
The second drawing gives us no better portrait of the hero than the first. We may conjecture, however, that, being a bachelor, the experience depicted in the first drawing has impaired the young man’s sleep. He probably imagines himself the latest victim of some fair entomologist.
THE WEAKER SEX.—III.
In the third drawing of this series we get a portrait of the hero. But he is again in a distressing dilemma. Just as he is advised by his physician to avoid all excitement, a young person enters and he develops further alarming symptoms, whereupon an immediate change of scene is prescribed.
THE WEAKER SEX.—IV.
In pursuance of the advice of his physicians, our hero starts on his journey in search of rest, but at the very outset finds himself confronted by another distressing circumstance: his seat in the parlor car is next to Miss Peachem, for whom he has always had the most profound regard.
THE WEAKER SEX.—V.
Arriving at his journey’s end, he meets an old friend who insists on taking him home and introducing him to his daughters.
THE WEAKER SEX.—VI.
After a vain search for rest and quiet, he falls into a most sensitive condition and suffers from the cold.
THE WEAKER SEX.—VII.
He takes a hand at bridge and has difficulty in keeping his mind on the game, with the result that he repeatedly trumps his partner’s tricks.
THE WEAKER SEX.—VIII.
He goes to the play, but finds it impossible to become interested in the piece.
THE WEAKER SEX.—X.
Having determined to settle down, we leave him in the act of deciding upon an object for affection.
Miss Boston: “Ah yes: your verses are charming. And have you never written a novel?”
Miss New York: “No: for if I did my mother would never let me read it.”
She: “I know that you must have made love before to some other girl.”
“But I had you in mind all the time.”
KIND OF FUNNY, AFTER ALL.
“It’s no laughing matter to be rejected by a million dollars!”
“Well, I don’t know. You see, old man, she’s just accepted me.”
PORTRAIT OF THE GENTLEMAN WHO WAS UNWILLING TO ATTEND A FANCY DRESS BALL UNTIL HE SAW HIMSELF IN COSTUME.
A DISCREET APPROACH.
“Advise me, uncle jack.”
“Of course; what is it?”
“Shall I ask you for twenty-five dollars, or for fifty?”
Ferguson (the politest man in New York): “When you go back, Nora, please ask the cook if there is any cold meat in the house.” (Exit Nora.)
To the company: “I beg you to excuse our maid. These accidents happen to her somewhat overfrequently. She was bred, I believe, a dairymaid, but had to leave that employment because of her inability to handle the cows without breaking off their horns.”
ADVICE TO NOBLEMEN.
When speaking to your fiancée’s father assume an easy posture and adopt a friendly manner.
THE BROKER RINGS UP HIS GIRL.
“Hello! Hello! Big strike in Consolidated Catamount—can marry—want three days’ option hand and heart.”
She: Will give refusal.
THE MENTION OF MR. TAGG’S NAME IN THE SOCIAL COLUMN ATTRACTS SOME GENTLEMEN OF THE PRESS.
Mr. Tagg gracefully submits to an interview.
IN ORDER TO PRESERVE HIS FIGURE, MR. TAGG BECOMES A PATRON OF THE MANLY ART.
Assisted by his instructor, “Patsy, the Pugg,” he demonstrates to some titled foreigners the fine points of the game.
HIS ONLY OPPORTUNITY.
Mr. Tagg, as host, wishes to become permanently identified with certain important people of fashion.
IN DIPLOMATIC CIRCLES.
Mr. Tagg is fascinated by Washington society and decides to go into politics. He enjoys a vision of himself at the Court of St. James.
POSTPONING THE INHERITANCE.
Miss Tagg explained the game to her uncle, who is greatly improved by the exercise.
HAVING TAKEN ALL THE NECESSARY LEGAL STEPS, MR. TAGG IS GREATLY MORTIFIED AT HIS DAUGHTER’S REFUSAL TO MARRY A NOBLEMAN.
The Father: “Young man, do you realize that your college career has cost me ten thousand dollars?”
“Well, Governor, it was worth it.”