THE CONVERSAZIONE.

Kumara Times, Issue 991, 3 December 1879, Page 4

THE CONVERSAZIONE.

[BURLINGTON HAWKEYE ] There was a little lull in the conversation,.and presently Miss Sillibub asked the first society young man “What the syndicate was ?” The first society young man stared, and presently said it was the name of a new opera. Last time he was in Ghicawgo heard Mapleson, fellah that runs Queen’s opera company say he was going to . “ ’Taint that,” a best young man broke in ; “1 read all about it tothah day. It’s a kind of—haw— darkies all going to Kansas, you know ; whole boat loads of ’em going every day. Political scheme—Republicans and Abolitionists all mixed up in it. Going to be war if it ’taint stopped.” “ Guess you’re wrong,” said a son of one of our first families. “Syndicate’s nothing to do with politics; heard some fellows talking ’bout it down town to-day. Aw—fellow has one in the new court house ; has to have it you know, or they wouldn’t let him build it. That’s what a syndicate is.” The son of one of our first families was looked up to do with so much confidence that there was a general inclination to accept his theory, which was disturbed, however, by a young lady, who said “she couldn’t exactly understand how that could be, because she read or heard somewhere that General Sherman had ordered the syndicate, or had something to do with it.” “Oh, yes; fences,” suddenly broke out a young man who makes his living by sucking his cane. “Fences,” he added vaguely, but still with considerable enthusiasm. “ Don’t you know ? Mendin’ his fences—” And the sudden gleam of intelligence died out of hie face and his voice sank into a feeble mutter. He reached around for his cane, intending to recruit his failing intellect by a long suck of the ivory knob, bub he had left it out in the hall, and dejectedly sucked the knob on the back of a campstool instead. “ Well, syndicate, as I understand it,” remarked a fragile young man who was straining himself by trying to see something through a pair of eyeglasses, “ a syndicate is when a fellow is going to do something and another fellow dosen t want him to ; other fellow sues him out, law fellows call him—sues him out a syndicate ; then this fellow can’t do it.” This was so clearly put, that the company sat for a little while, wrapped in silent admiration of the young man’s profound knowledge of the law. But the whole question was finally settled by the decision of a young man, who was wasting a rare and valuable life by trying to raise eleven whiskers on each cheek, and look over his collar at the same time. He looked up with an air of dawning interest, and, after a painful intellectual effort, asked “ Wha’ is it? Wha’ talking about ?” They told him. “ Syndicate ?” he asked, “syndicate? Yes, I know. Blamed vulgar thin g. Low ; beastly low. Beastly piece of political business. ’Taint no way fit to talk about here.. And then the company very properly dropped the indelicate subject, and resumed the conversation about the lawn party.