A young fellow about nineteen, who is going with his first girl, and who
lives on the West Side, has got the symptoms awfully. He just thinks of
nothing else but his girl, and when he can be with her,--which is seldom,
on account of the old folks.--he is there, and when he cannot be there, he
is there or thereabouts, in his mind. He had been trying for three months
to think of something to give his girl for a Christmas present, but he
couldn't make up his mind what article would cause her to think of him the
most, so the day before Christmas he unbosomed himself to his employer,
and asked his advice as to the proper article to give. The old man is
bald-headed and mean. "You want to give her something that will be a
constant reminder of you?" "Yes," he said, "that was what was the matter."
"Does she have any corns?" asked the old wretch. The boy said he had never
inquired into the condition of her feet, and wanted to know what corns had
to do with it. The old man said that if she had corns, a pair of shoes
about two sizes too small would cause her mind to dwell on him a good
deal. The boy said shoes wouldn't do. The old man hesitated a moment,
scratched his head, and finally said:
"I have it! I suppose, sir, when you are alone with her, in the parlor,
you put your arm around her waist; do you not, sir?"
The young man blushed, and said that was about the size of it.
"I presume she enjoys that part of the discourse, eh?"
The boy said that, as near as he could tell, by the way she acted, she was
not opposed to being held up.
"Then, sir, I can tell you of an article that will make her think of you
in that position all the time, from the moment she gets up in the morning
till she retires."
"Is there any attachment to it that will make her dream of me all
night?" asked the boy.
"No, sir! Don't be a hog," said the bad man.
"Then what is it?"