Life — June 12, 1884 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

VOL, III. JUNE tatu, 1884. 1155 Broapway, NEw York. Published every Thursday, $5 a year in advance, postage free. Single copies, 10 cents. to this office. rates, Rejected contributions will not be returned unless accompanied by a stamped and directed envelope. Back numbers can be had by applying Vol. I., 20 cents per copy ; Vol. II., at regular ED Dog, Arizona, is a town which boasts of frontier sa- loons, a graveyard, a justice of the peace, nine Egyptian or Pharaoh banks, and a hotel. There was once a church, but the Rev. Mr. Silas Brown, who ran it, incautiously undertook one day to hold four aces against the Justice of the Peace, while that gentleman was somewhat overheated, and as a result of his rash- ness, was made a real estate owner under the weeping willow in the lot adjoining. His flock was scattered, and the scene of his labors drifted gradually into decay and contempt and finally passed under the sheriff’s hammer and became a barn, Four weeks ago Mr. Elisha Perkins, a celebrated revivalist of Peoria, Illinois, was delegated by the Conference to evan- gelize Arizona, and selected Red Dog as the initial point of his campaign, His coming was the signal for bonfires and other exuberant tokens of border enthusiasm; the Justice of the Peace had a speech written and only failed to deliver it because it was found impossible to prop him up when the hour came; the local band was uproariously seranadeful, and when the Rev. Mr. Per- kins disheveled himself for the night, he had reason, indeed, to feel certain that the cohorts of Satan were in wild dismay. Now, it so happened that the only mention of Mr. Perkins on the dodgers which profusely announced his coming to Red Dog, was the single line: “ PERKINS, REVIVALIST.” There were no dictionaries in Red Dog; the hotel-keeper thought that revival meant either a prize-fight or a species of cir- cus ; the doctor was impressed with recollections that it signified a scheme run somewhat on the principle of a lottery ; and the jus- tice of the peace was convinced it was a renaissance of cock- fighting, of which sanguinary sport he was particularly fond. The adherents of each theory wrangled until the midnight was far gone, and then retired with their boots on to wait the issue. When the Rev. Mr. Perkins met the assembled company in the | hotel dining-room next morning, he was somewhat surprised to be greeted with three vigorous cheers, and to behold a twenty-four foot ring with liberal sawdust pitched in the centre of the room, while in one corner were sponges, vinegar and coops containing the justice’s gamest poultry. On the wall ‘the doctor had ar- ranged a blackboard, to be in readiness for the lottery, and along one end of the room ran a temporary bar, so arranged that the guests might be supplied without taking their eyes off the enter- tertainment, whatever it might be. Somewhat startled by his lusty reception, and certainly at a loss to understand the elaborate preparations which had been going forward, the Rev. Mr. PERKINs took his position in the centre of the ring, and, amid breathless silence and expectation, gave out the opening hymn. It was met with open-mouthed wonder and silence, save from one of the coops in the corner, where one of the justice's pets shrilled a vigorous defiance. “Thet ’s him,” said the justice, hoarsely; ‘‘wip’d Bitt Twiccses brown yisterd’y, colder’n p'ison.” The Rev. Mr. PERKINS gave out another verse. doctor leaned over the ropes. “ There’s four tenderfoots yar,” he whispered. lay-out, ’n clean ’em.” ‘* Dearly beloved brethren,” faltered the Rev. Mr. PERKINS. “Kin ye knock out Jim BAGcs ?” queried the hotel-keeper. “I fear there has been some mistake here, my good fricnds,” began the Rev. Mr. PERKINS, the cold beads of anxiety standing out on his brow. Mr. Jim BaGs leaped into the ring. He had but one eye, but the badness of it could have been divided with propriety. “ Put up your dukes,” he said. Then he led out with his left. The Rev. Mr. PERKINS contemplated the ceiling. When thirty seconds had passed, the justice called time. The Rev. Mr. PERKINS was still suffering, and did not rise, ‘*Gimme the stakes,” said Mr. Baccs. The hotel-keeper passed over $67.50, which had been thoughtfully collected at the door. Then Mr. BaGGs went through the convivial ceremony known as setting them up, and departed. . Half an hour later the Rev. Mr. PERKINS arose, and had a long and confidential talk with the hotel-keeper. Last Sunday he again addressed the conference in Peoria. * * * UR esteemed brindle contemporary the Telegram, says that Mr. Booth, the actor, is going to take up his residence for the summer tear Purgatory. There is only one place near Purgatory, but it is not generally known as a summer resort. Our contemporary can ill afford to be ambiguous in such a case, and as Mr. Booth has many warm friends both in this country and Europe, we feel that an explanation would not be out of place. Then the “ Spread the * * ® HAT howl for Blaine seemed to be settling down into a sort of Peruvian bark. * * * I" is reported that the next Arctic expedition will be entirely composed of those who have become acclimated while work- ing the boom for Mr. EpMuNDs. comicbooks.com