Life — February 22, 1883 — page 11: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THeiPe | NO OF tHe RULE Wuart the scarecrow would be apt to say if it was gifted with the power of speech—Get off my corns. Aso cRors EYED. PuRGATORY superseded —Who- ever commits suicide now is merely to be sent to the penitentiary for one year. IMPORTANT to parents of un- married daughters.—Somebody has invented a labor-saving machine to play on the piano. A WESTERN wit inquires ; “Can hard cider be called the voice of the press? It can—but that doesn’t make it so. * LIFE: MORE MEMORIES OF THE WATER COLOR EXHIBITION. “Stop THIEF !” was the old and familiar alarm cry; but over in New Jersey they have come to shout, “Stop cashier!” Maxim for mankind in gene- ral.—Mind your own business ; or, if you have no business, then make it your business to leave the busi- ness of others severely along Sorrow, like a woman's age, grows less and less every time it is told. Common motto for New Jersey bank officials.—Let us all learn to respect each other's convictions. GORGEOUS JOURNALISM. F the accounts are true, there have been few palaces, out of the Arabian Nights, to compare with the new quarters for the staff of the Philadelphia Pudsic Ledger, We are informed that the reporters’ room has walnut and ash desks, with cane-seated revolving chairs, and Turkish rugs. All the reporters have gold pens with diamond nibs, and write on hand-made note- paper, using perfumed violet ink. After any dirty work, each reporter is obliged to take a Turkish bath in the bathing department before writiting out his copy, and, as this occasions delay, most of the running about is done by nickel-plated errand boys, with chilled steel jewelled’ works, who are prettily attired in livery. Smoking is strictly prohibited, since it is an incentive to expectoration, and to spit on the floor is death; but chewing-gum and sticks of candy with red stripes, are supplied gratis to the reporters for consumption on the premises. City Editor McQuade’s room is a perfect gem. It is carpeted with a beautiful Axminster, and hung with old-gold tapestry curtains, suspended on brass rings from bars of beaten copper, the folds being caught up with massive brass rings. A richly covered lounge and ottomans of beauty are provided ; a marvellous desk, mahogany tables, rich and costly wall paper, and chandeliers of cut glass. At ten o'clock every morning, City Editor McQuade alights from his coupé in morning dress, and gets into the elevator. He does not leave the building until five o'clock p.M., his lunch being sent in to him, and his valet bringing, at one o'clock, his afternoon suit of clothes. At five, a noble-looking groom, dressed in a high hat, etomologically ornamented, brings to the door a fleet Arabian steed, and City Editor McQuade, hav- ing changed his trousers, rides swiftly away. Assistant City Editor Spangler walks to the office, but goes home in a dog-cart. He wears patent-leather pointed shoes, and models his deportment on that of Attorney-General Brewster. All these accessories are aids of Journalism, but to make a great newspaper re- quires something more. Upholstery alone is not enough. It takes audacity and advertising. comicbooks.com