The members of the "P. Literary" Society are requested to meet at J. H. Holden's this (Tuesday) evening.
The News reports: "Unusual number of arrivals at hotels by the early mornings' train. Everyone (?) began the day by taking a drink." That local evidently judges others by himself.
Quite a crowd of music lovers congregated at the Music Store of T. W. Letton, last night, with the expectation of organizing a music club, under the leadership of Prof. Howard. They meet again next Monday evening, and all musical friends are invited.
Yesterday presented the usual scene at the Recorder's Court. The victims of whisky were there with haggard faces and bloodshot eyes, awaiting the penalty that was to follow their evil doings. The Recorder took his seat, the attorney was on hand, Kelso woke up, and the machine started. Four men in all paid $9.75 each for their indiscretion. L. Turner, a gay gambalier, was fined $16.00, for playing o'er the green cloth.
Last night the masquerade ball of the German Singing Club came off at Frank's Hall. The hall was crowded with the elite of the city, and the costumes were both novel and elegant. The music, which was very good, was supplied by Charles Volrath's Kansas City Brass and String Band. A man, dressed as a monkey, created much amusement. And a drunkard reeled about in a manner strongly suggestive of Marshal Keck and a Recorder's court fine. A porter groaned under the weight of a heavy trunk, while a table tripped across the room carrying a chap too lazy to walk. A rooster strutted about, while a monk gravely held his beads and cast shy glances at a handsome though masked nun. The fire department was represented, and Venus tripped the light fantastic in a manner that would do credit to Galloway himself. It was far into the wee hours when the company finally separated, and the remembrance of the evening will long remain as an adois of pleasure amid the dreary toil of daily life.
