Life — October 18, 1883 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

VOL. II. OCTOBER 18TH, 1883. NO. 42. 1155 Broapway, New York. Published every Thursday, $5 a year in advance, postage free. Single copies, 10 cents. Ov highly esteemed and rotary fellow-citizen, Mr. TALMAGE, has risen at last to a recognition of the greatest necessity of the age. For some years he has labored with the idea that bewildering athletics were the greatest solace of the truly good pilgrim, and that a cavernous display of ecclesiastical back-tecth was the surest way to make the sinner pause—suggesting to him the infinite possibilities of the bottomless pit. This evangelical method, conjoined with a costly cornet and liberal advertising, has certainly given Satan more trouble than any device known since the closing of Eden. Now, however, a new field has opened, and Mr. Talmage is rampant with zeal and enthusiasm. He has just heard of a colony of sinridden persons on the bor- ders of Salt Lake, who call themselves Mormons, and who, hay- ing no friends this side of the Rocky Mountains, are, of course, safe to attack. The more remote and inaccessible an enemy, the more virulent Mr. Talmage is—a quality peculiar also to other fearless men. In this case he is mad to make you shudder. Massacre, extermination, holocaust—these are feeble terms to ex- press the outcome of the Talmagian campaign, as predicted by himself. So earnest is he, that he offers to mount the barbed steed of war and himself lead the van. Without at all desiring to interfere with Mormon extermination, we would cautiously suggest that this would never do. Brother Talmage should keep well to the rear. To exterminate the Mormons properly they must be led into showing fight. Fancy their seeing, first of their foes, the revolving legs and dental grotto which have so fright- ened all the little devils in Brooklyn! Why, there would be no fight. There would be but a whizz and a streak of dust, and Salt Lake would be empty. No, no—Brother Talmage must not lead. * * . WE zt pleased to note that our highly esteemed con- temporary, the New York 7imcs, has ceased to enshrine the verb ‘‘to monkey” in aerial commas. This virtually re- moves the word from the purlieus of slang, legitimizing and giv- ing it enfranchisement among its peers in the lexicon, Mecessitas legis mater. There existed an abysmal void in our language until this word stepped in. No circumlocution could so properly de- scribe that playful and empirical tampering with danger indulged in by persons who are said to subsequently discover that it is loaded. The 7imes has been empirical of late. It has gleefully done a very big thing. Let us hope that its earnest recognition of the word ‘‘ to monkey” is irrelevant to its experience, WING to the unfortunate fact that the chips loaned to the Thompson Street Poker Club by Mr. Ruse Jackson, had been garnisheed by Mr. Gus Jounson (see Rule 147, which pro- vides for the payment of I. O. U.'s), the members present last Saturday evening were compelled to play with beans, a limited quantity of which had been thoughtfully secured by the Rev. Mr. THANKFUL SMITH while passing a produce store in the late afternoon. The cards ran well, and as Mr. Smtti himself was responsible for the bank, the betting was unusually brilliant. Mr. SMITH was never in better luck, nor Mr. TooTER WILLIAMS in worse. Notwithstanding the heavy losses of the latter gentleman, how- ever, the supply of beans seemed never to run short, and after several hours of play this excited suspicion in the banker. “* LEMME jess cash up and see how de bank stan’s,” said that potentate, after an unusually prodigal burst of beans from Mr. ‘WituiaMs had startled the players, Mr. Gus Jounson passed in ninety-six beans and got his money. Professor Brick had thirty-nine lentils and a half, but con- sented, after some haggling, to call it plain thirty-nine. Mr. Rupe JACKSON had seventy-two beans, but owed the bank seventy-five, He settled the difference with coin, All accounts had now been squared except that of Mr. WILLIAMS, The Rev. Mr, SmrTH emptied the beans into his hat, put the pack into his pocket and made away with the stuffed wallet. Every eye was fixed on Mr. WILLIAMS. “ Look hyar, niggah—whar’s de cash for dese beans?” asked that gentleman of the banker, By way of reply Mr. SmirH emptied the bank upon the table and desired the Committee of the Whole to count it, The return was nine hundred and seventy-two beans. Then said Mr. SMITH, impressively : “*T only had fo’ hundred an’ sixty beans ter start; I'se winned all de jackers and mos’ ob de stray tussels, an’ yet I''se a dollah fohty-two out. Dis bank's solvent as long 's de bettin 's squar’, but de debbil himse’f cawnt cash agin de man wat’s got a um- breller-case full o’ beans dribblin from his sleeve. No sah, Dis bank am suspended.” The Club adjourned, * 8 @ OUR bishly esteemed contemporary, the New York Sum, has awakened by its ponderous bass Holman drum, a responsive and brotherly toot from the Watseka ([llinois) Zimes. These are dark days, indeed, for the Republican party. When the Watseka (Illinois) Zimes boldly joins the Sun in pronouncing for Mr. Holman, it is useless to disguise the fact that the case is: settled. It is a foregone conclusion, then, that we are to have Mr. Holman in '84. * 8 © “ WHEW! Good -gracious, let me cool off before you ask me how I did it, Maybe you don’t believe in bull luck now ?”—George Hoadly. comicbooks.com