 | Saratoga in 1901 |  |
THAT HORRIBLE BUCK!
Congress Hall, Aug. 8.
DON'T!
The native Saratogians here are a funny people. Their
principal care and occupation is to keep people from doing anything.
Stroll into Congress Spring Park, and “DON'T go on the
grass!” appears at every turn. Being of a sentimental turn,
you pick a hanging twig for your sweetheart, when “DON'T pick
the shrubs!” stares you in the face, and you find you have, after
all, broken the great Saratoga commandment—“don't.” The
pet buck now comes fondly toward you. You hold out temptingly
a piece of cracker for gentle gazelle to nibble. He nibbles—
nabs it—and then goes straight for the stomach of a harmless
clergyman. The good man leaves a wife and twelve small
children!
“Don't you see the notice?” shouts an angry policeman.
“No—where?”
“Here—`Don't feed or annoy the buck' as it makes him vicious!'
Don't you see it?”
Great Heavens! another commandment done for! That
buck is one of the dreadful things of Saratoga. For three days
the park has been closed—(this is a fact)—to all visitors. The
lovers' seat has been vacant, and all transient Saratoga has been
penned up on hotel balconies or compelled to resort to the more
cheerful location—the village graveyard.
But to the buck again—that miserable, dreadful dog-in-the-manger
buck! Yesterday a policeman stood all day with a wire
stretched across the park entrance. He “gave a new commandment
unto us.” The man in blue pointed ominously to the
twenty-sixth don't! “Don't go near the buck. He is shedding
the velvet from his horns and is positively dangerous!”
As I write, the villagers are securing the buck. They have
built a pen in the middle of the park—a big pen, a sort of board
Castle of Chillon for him. Is he secure? Will he break out?
I dread for the fate of this happy town if that buck ever gets
loose. How he would come sailing up Broadway with his
antlers proudly erect, cleaning vehicles from the street, and the
masses from the hotel balconies! I cannot think of to-morrow
without a shudder.
“Quousque tandem abutere patientiâ nostrâ, O Buck!”
The young ladies—the dears of Congress Hall—object seriously
to the exclusiveness of the stag party—in the park!
| Saratoga in 1901 | |