Life, 1883-10-11 · page 7 of 16
Life — October 11, 1883 — page 7: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Analysis of Page 177, Life Magazine The cartoon titled "BIS DAT QUI CITO DAT" (He gives twice who gives quickly) depicts two men in a physical altercation, illustrating the Latin phrase's humorous application: "You punch him twice if you punch him quickly." Below this is "The Pickally Club," a satirical short story about a Harlem social club founded by a man named Teddy Mulvany. The narrative mocks the pretensions of the organization—members sought an elegant meeting space, adopted formal procedures, elected officers, and commissioned a portrait, yet operated from a modest rented room. The satire targets working-class social aspirations and the gap between members' ambitions and their modest means. The page also contains "Baccherini's Minuet," a romantic poem by E.J. McPhelim referencing Romeo and Juliet.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
*LIFE- BIS DAT QUI CITO DAT. You PUNCH HIM TWICE IF YOU PUNCH HIM QUICKLY. Au contraire—a mule. Auctor pretiosa facit--the author makes precious little. Un coup de soleii—“ The Republican party must go !"" Un coup de plume—a hen-coop. Fama clamosa—hungry for clams. Favete linguis—give your mouth a rest. Dum vivimus, vivamus—while we live, let us take “ Life.” Cuas, F. Lumais. THE PICKALILY CLUB. WEEN the Pickalily Club was started, in the neighborhood of Harlem, a delegation waited on Mr, Teddy Mulvany at his new saloon, and explained to him that their porpose was to secure a room in his hostelry for the meetings of the association. ‘An’ phwat 's the objects av the Club?” inquired Teddy. “ Partly social, and partly political. We have chosen you as President, and if you have a room to suit us, you shall be Treas- urer, so that you can have a sure thing.” “Sure an’ that 's only roight an’ fair,” responded Teddy. “And if you should want to run for the Assembly, Mr. Mul- vany, you would find us a power in the ward.” “Bedad, sor, if the Assimbly should call me to’t, it's safe to bet that I'd be there at the openin’.” He showed the delegation a front room up stairs, which was furnished with a carpet and chairs and a table, and was kindly assured that the furniture would be good enough for a begining. At the first meeting of the Pickalily Club Mr. Mulvany pre- sided, and was duly elected Treasurer, and a resolution was adopted, requesting him to furnish the club with a portrait of himself, such as they could have engraved for use on posters and banners and the like. Mr. Mulvany was proud, and he furnished the portrait and paid a good price for it. After a few subsequent meetings he began to reflect. As Treasurer of the Club his position was a sinecure, and he had not received a cent for rent of his room, and some little bills had been run up at the bar, by friendly members of the club. He invaded another meeting of the Pickalily Club, and the light of battle was in his nose, and his oratory burst forth thus: “T want to know phwat good yez are, anyhow. Long as this 177 's been goin’ on, the rint hez been goin’ on, an’ not a dol- ve I got out av yez fur dhrinks or cigars, barrin’ the kegs av beer yez paid fur at facthory prices, which laves Mulvany out o’ pocket. This, now, is my ultimerfanatem, d’ ye moind? It's foive dollars a noight fur the room, d’ ye moind, yez, and buy the beer by the glass, d’ ye moind, or yez don’t git in here no more, begorra, that’s flat!” “If you go back on us,” remarked the usual spokesman, “ we will go against you in politics.” ‘Sure an’ that’s the best thing cud happen to me, begorra. Phat’s a Pickalily Club, anyhow? Did anny wan av yiz iver pick a lily? It’s niver a wan yez'll pick off o’ Teddy Mulvany, an’ if yez don’t kem down wid the dust, Oi ll kem down wid a Tipperary blackthorn.” lobody came down with the dust, and on the next meeting night of the Pickalily Club the room was vacant. r. Mulvany caused a sign to be painted and put in a con- spicuous place, and this is the legend it bore: The Pickasilly Club Don't Meet Here No More.” BACCHERINI'S MINUET. “THE summer garden fades away, And dreamily I close my eyes, While softly as the fountains play, Beneath the star-bewildered skies Of Italy, I hear the flow Of rhythmic music sweet and low. From dim Verona’s gardens old ‘There comes the breath of deep perfume, And cavaliers in lace and gold Move lightly thro’ the gilded room, And to the stately measures beat The dainty touch of satined feet. Behind the mask with Romeo I watch a form in robes of white, And see the soft and slumb’rous glow Of eyes divinely, darkly bright. (Hush 1 In the house of Capulet Breathe not the name of Juliet !) * . . *. . The vision fades into the gloom, And lo! instead I faintly trace, Far off in a Parisian room, A calmly beautiful dead face— And over Juliet, lying there, The music sobs into a prayer. No more the balcony will know Her whispered passion and the pain; And in the orange groves below Will Romeo wait, alas ! in vain, Ab, list! and hear the music sigh, How sad it is that love must die ! oe 8 # & 8 The storm of plaudits, wave on wave, Brings back my wand’ring soul to me, With one last glimpse, a grassy grave Beyond the sullen English sea, Where Juliet dreams of Montague, Beneath the roses and the dew ! E. J. McPHELIm, comicbooks.com