Rzysplympski!

WE read with glee the lay of the Mournful Maverick, and quoted it extensively to our friends as a sample of the pure joyousness of the English language. To-night, for the first time, we have met its match and proved that English is not the only language full of interesting possibilities.

It was in an artist’s studio, and the landscape was fdled with riotous and lovely shapes and colors. My friend wore a flaming blouse and sat in an old mahogany Windsor chair, over the back of which was thrown a scarf of electric blue. As she chatted she daubed spasmodically at a group of chrysanthemums in a vase of uncertain but. lovely color.

Somewhere from the depths of genius she suddenly brought forth a word, — unknown to all of us, — a gruesome gargoyle of a word: ‘Rzysplympski.’ It might very well have been a new beverage, for it had the fizz and gurgle of delectable liquids. It could easily have been the war cry of fierce Italian Fascist! — a sort of twentieth-century ‘Excelsior.’ In fact it even had the possibilities of rich deep fur trimming used on cloaks in Vogue or Vanity Fair. We tried it in all of these connections, and many more, and had a beautiful time wandering through the labyrinths of language. The word could be used admirably to express approval, and indeed it was quite useful when one was called upon to admire works of art which he could not understand. One could exclaim with charming effect, ‘Is n’t that rzysplympski!’ and as no one knew Avhat it meant everybody was forced to agree with him, and wonder at his command of language. Even better, however, did it give force to anathema. Surely the architectural atrocity known as Temple Something-or-other was absolutely rzysplympski! After such sweeping condemnation as that, there was literally nothing left to be said. The evening’s experiments were altogether a great success, and we had, taken all in all, a truly rzysplympski sort of time.

But when the truth came out it was found that in a certain kindergarten there was a little Hungarian child, and an equally small Croatian. Minnie had come to school wearing a gorgeous ‘near mink’ fur of her mother’s, which was adorned with many small supposedly mink heads. Sadie gazed at it with longing and wonder, and then, in voice hushed with awe, said: ‘Ain’t it sweet, all them little cow’s heads!’

And Minnie’s last name was ‘Rzysplympski ! ’