The Idaho World

[From the Brooklyn (N. Y.) Eagle]

CORRY OLANUS PENITENT EPISTLE

(CORRESPONDENCE OF THE EAGLE)

I wish you a Happy New Year.

Don't ask me to take anything.

I positively couldn't do it.

I took enough yesterday to last me some time.

Fusel oil in large quantities is injurious to the coats of the stomach; and as you can't renew these coats like an overcoat, it is better to take care of your original outfit.

Or outfit, I suppose you may call it.

I have some misgivings as it is, whether I have not tampered with my system.

As I was coming out of the house, Themistocles, who came to the door with me to see how the sleighing prospect stood, as a parting word said, "Pa, keep sober."

The wisdom of the child!

I kept all right; but pickled oysters I am afraid don't agree with me.

How many pickled oysters do you suppose could be eaten with safety by a middle-aged man, slightly bald, with a small family and moderate income?

I would like to ascertain that before making any more New Year's calls.

Everybody has pickled oysters on their New Year's tables, and you are expected to try them and give an opinion on their quality.

I wish the World Commissioner or somebody would analyze pickled oysters and see if they are adulterated.

The oysters of course are all right, but I am doubtful about the vinegar.

There is an acid reaction about it which produces sourness of the stomach, and slight headache the next day.

It must have been the pickled oysters—unless I ate anything else except some sandwiches, a slice of cold turkey, a few slices of sponge, pound, and fruit cake, some macaroons, an orange or two, some nuts and raisins and a piece of mince pie.

I was careful, too, about drinking and took coffee when they had nothing else, and drank very little lemonade.

Lemonade is bad to take on pickled oysters, unless the acidity is counteracted by a slight admixture of fusel oil in the form of brandy or Bourbon.

I shall be happy to receive all my lady friends to-day.

They will find me at home this Saturday afternoon up to four o'clock, by which time I expect Mrs. Olanus to be at home,

I want to pitch into the bakers and confectioners—Anderson and those fellows who get up confections for New Year's tables.

They got me into a scrape with their ridiculous names for things.

I'll tell you how it was.

I made a call; had the usual inane conversation about the weather.

The ladies thought it was "horrid" weather.

So did I.

We hoped it would be better on the morrow.

Then, as there was nothing more to be said, they invited me to the table.

Young lady—she was a very nice young lady—asked me would I take coffee or lemonade.

I said I would.

Then says she, will you take a kiss?

Certainly, said I.

I took one.

Gracious!

Young lady screamed.

Other ladies looked astonished.

Young lady, on recovering, explained that she didn't mean that. She meant some kind of confectionery they call kisses.

You can imagine my feelings.

The commencement of a new year is a solemn as well as a festive event.

The closing up of the old year suggests to mercenary minds the closing up of accounts, and just as you have turned your eyes toward the promise of the future you are reminded of obligations incurred in the past by the advent of several little bills.

Not always little bills.

Why does your grocer, your butcher, your tailor, your shoemaker, and whatever, seek to mar the bliss of New Year's congratulations, by sending in their bills at this particular time?

I can understand why doctors do so.

They know that unhappiness affects the liver, and puts your system out of order, and you will have to call on him and lay the foundation of another bill.

The advent of a new year affords you an opportunity to turn over a new leaf.

But when you have it turned over you find it looks very much like the old one.

New Year's Day is a good time to make good promises and resolutions.

Because you have got a whole year before you to break them in.

If of a reflective turn of mind you may dwell on the fact that you are one year older to-day than you were this New Year's day will add to your weight time last year, and every successive of years.

At the same time you have the consolation of reflecting that everybody else is in the same predicament.

Perhaps you think I am in a reflective state of mind.

I am.

Too much pickled oysters lead to reflections on the vanities of life.

Having devoted myself to the social amenities of the holidays, I have not had time to attend to anything else.

I ought to have gone to Philadelphia to meet Gen. Grant, and consult him about his Cabinet and the Brooklyn appointments.

My friend Robinson said he could take care of the present Congress, having given up his intention of resigning, his threat of doing so having had the desired effect on the British Government, who, as soon as they heard of it, immediately released Geo. F. Train.

Furthermore, I saw by your Washington correspondent that our mutual friend Hyder O'Status is in Washington City.

If Andy Johnson will only listen to him he will give him advice enough to last him the balance of his term with a small allowance over to retire on.

For there is no necessity for my going to Washington at present.

Yours, Philosophically

CORRY OLANUS