Life — May 31, 1883 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

-LIFE- ST HE that the jury may intelligently assess their value, sume, experts may be called in to prove the value of like services in like cases, We shall look for this evidence with great interest to inform us what is the tariff for purgatorial deliverance. We are altogether in the dark as to the commercial value of religious consolations, for the sacramental ceremony of marriage, and for the baptisms of infants and adults in holy water. This kind of informa- tion is of practical use, and we think we express the wish of the average non-papist in desiring to know—in the event of our becom- ing Romanists—just how much the Roman Catholic plan of sal- vation costs. We would not speak wrerereny of these sacred ceremonies, nor lightly of the holy mysteries which enshroud the faith of the members of the only true, holy, catholic and apos- tolic church ; but when an anointed priest of God comes into court, and demands compensation in coin for services rendered by him at the altar in aid of a tortured soul that is dead and wan- ders, we demand to know whether we may not inquire into all the details of a service for which a priest of Rome demands a money price. It would be an interesting fact if we could ascer- tain historically just when the practice was introduced of selling masses, Judas was the only apostle, if we remember aright, who loved coin ; and, if we are correct in our readings, Christ, and the apostles, and the early Christians, were enjoined to set no value on their ministrations, but to preach Christ and Him cruci- fied, without money and without price—to preach the gospel to all the world, going forth with staff, but not with purse. One follower of Jesus demanding twelve thousand dollars for rescuing the soul of another from eternal torment !~and that in the city of Brooklyn, in 1883. Great God!!! Then, we pre- A WITTICISM VERSIFIED. “ Qualis erat! quantum mutatus ab illo." —ViRG. W HY Dick, my fine fellow—indeed I must own Iscarcely should know you, so changed you have grown, You were, while at college, a curly-haired lad, And I plainly recall the slim figure you had, But now, by the mass !—and you needn't look surly— ‘Tis your hair that is s/m, and your figure thats curly. Dotarow. “How now, sirrah,” growled the haughty baron, “ Dost falter !—Away with yon hound to the pound hard by; Iwill een await thy return with the thirty piastres thou shalt receive for him: Delay not, varlet, or By're Lady, it shall fare ill with thee!” 263 etical editor of Lire regrets that he is seldom able to read over a dozen poems at one sitting. Editors are a sordid, grovelling, grubbing and unappreciative set, and the poetical editor of Lire is no exception. A pale youth with red eye winkers and freckled cars slunk in yesterday to inquire about a little “sonnet in alcaic hexameters” he had sent us. Fortunately it was one of the lucky six, fished from the basket by Bliff's cat, who, under the extra stimulus of a pinched tail, had clawed a hole right through it. His eye brightened as we slowly unfolded the thing. The first lines ran thus: “Thy love, O coruscating, ethereal star, Whose bright effulgence "— We said: ‘This opening is too astronomical, so to speak. People like something more juicy.” He admitted that perhaps it wouldn't please the vulgar masses. We resumed the reading. The 37th stanza wound up thus : — ‘ Queen of summers seventeen, May thy future e’er be heavenly !” We said again: “ This is not wholly unintelligible. gentle idiot, but does ‘seventeen’ rhyme with ‘heavenly? He explained that it was by poetic license he ran i We picked the thing upagain, The rogth stanza was this : “IT deemed her the one thing undefiled By the air we breathe in a world of sin, The truest, the tenderest, purest child, A man ever trusted in,” We looked over our spectacles: “ Young man, ¢his was written by a poet!” He blushed and modestly acknowledged the compli- ment, ‘This stanza,” we continued, ‘is in Meredith's best style. In fact it is his language. It is exactly like something in one of his best poems. You are talented.” We went on. The concluding lines were miraculously original and fetching : “ And in the dreary sarcophaguses of our hearts, Where no refulgent ray bright Hope imparts, In melody sweet may thy phantasm lie ‘Through all atheistic eternity.” “Benign and mesmeric numskull,” we said, ‘‘ this thing is too thin, ‘Atheistic eternity’ is a beautiful expression in Modoc, even as the ‘dreary sarcophaguses of our hearts’ is one of the most tender thoughts of the Kickapoo bard, but like Scribe’s plays, they lose their beauty when translated. This poem contains some lovely lines. You have the happy knack of so closely imi- tating Byron, Shelley, Moore, Tennyson and Scott, that in places an expert couldn't tell the difference. Then you branch off into a style peculiarly your own, and leave everything to the imagina- tion and the dictionary. Your spelling is original, too. Dispell, niether, whitch, sutch, weding, etc., are variations on the ordin- ary monotonous orthography which will doubtless take. You should write forthe Home Yournal and the Chicago Tribune, Your poctry is like Wagner's music—it belongs to the future. You had better burn this up—or send it to the Century. They might give you a thousand dollars for it, Doctor Holmes has got less for poems not half solong. If we had written it, we would rather have five hundred dollars than print it ina strictly funny paper. Ethereal maniac, we cannot publish this. This is a fey- erish office. Nota week ago there wasa poet brutally assassinat- ed on that very spot. The Fighting and Religious Editor did it. He is frenzied yet. Ha! hearyou his tread upon the stair? He comes ! fly !” ‘There was a quick grab at the pile of manuscript, a gleam of a pale face shooting through the doorway, a scrabble down the back stairs, and the poet was gone. BBliff put an extra dab of tar on the Cr ears and winked at the advertising solicitor. Then all was still. = — comicbooks.com