We use Optical Character Recognition (OCR) during our scanning and processing workflow to make the content of each page searchable. You can view the automatically generated text below as well as copy and paste individual pieces of text to quote in your own work.
Text recognition is never 100% accurate. Many parts of the scanned page may not be reflected in the OCR text output, including: images, page layout, certain fonts or handwriting.
OCTOBER 1900 her husband). After a morning spent in delightful chat, and reminiscences of old school days, followed by a delicious Bttle luncheon, and an afternoon spin in the Park, she felt comparatively refreshed, and ready for the climax to her artfully contrived revenge. That evening, in response to a call for the Phonograph, Mr. Simpkins produced the machine with a grand flourish} and, after attaching the large reproducing horn and bringing forth some of his pet records, the performance began. After treating them to one or two band records, he finally opened a box, supposed to contain a tenor song of which he was particularly fond, but into which his wife had surrept- itiously inserted the snoring record. Calling attention of the assembled company to the musical treat they were now about to enjoy, he adjusted the record in its place and started the machine. As he turned around towards his auditors, with the bland and smiling countenance he usually wore when exhibiting the Phonograph, there broke upon the expectant silence the announcement, in a strong, clear, fe- male voice, ** Snoring Solo, rendered by Mr. Simpkins at three o’clock in the morning’*, etc., etc! Mr. Simpkins wheeled about and glared at the huge brass horn very much as he would if he had seen an enormous boa-constrictor come crawling out of it, and just then there began to come from within its recesses a series of discordant noises, and gurgles, which once more awoke the echoes in the Simp- kins* apartments, and stirred the small but select audience to irrepressible laughter. That is—all but one. That poor creature, the victim of a cruel and heartless wife’s revenge, stood rooted to the spot, listening to the strange, ward sounds which came