Life — July 10, 1884 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

‘LIFE: In consequence, an hour later, a vessel was wrecked near the point. There was but one survivor, a nice young mian with very short hair and a striped suit, checks being then out of fashion. He was unconscious when Judith found him, and as pale and white as though he had been through the Fall River Laundry. With Prudence’s help Judith dragged him up to the light-house ‘and hung him up by the heels to drain, and then she hastened to light the lamp again as she feared the approach of the Newport boat, for although she was neither select or exclusive she felt it her duty to draw the line at Newporters, either dead or alive. She next turned her attention to resuscitating her guest. First she tried a bottle of Congress water, but this proving ineffectual she at once decided to produce artificial respira- tion, so turning the blast of the fog-horn engine down her patient’s throat she blew him up like a balloon, brought him to his senses in a jiffy, and made him beg for some peppermint by way of an antidote. Just at this moment the stillness was broken by a lusty voice singing, “For I’m a graduate of Harvard College, And_I can therefore put on endless airs, Although at present I’m a car conductor, Witla bell-punch and many other cares.” A moment later the door opened, Mr. Rooney entered and at once asked his daughter to give him some Coffea. He went on to explain that Coffea was the homceopathic antidote for the effects of too great joy, and as he had just left Boston he felt greatly in need of it. He next proceeded to inquire who the youth in the striped suit and hiccups was, whereupon the young man in question handed him a visiting card having this inscription : 2 Mr. GUILLAUME LE CHEVREAU, : Sing Sing, Cell 38. Tuesdays. “Who and what might you be?” inquired Mr. Rooney sternly. “Tam,” answered the youth, from amid his hiccups, “a member of the famous old Hunyadi family. I came originally from Hungary, and if you could only see me eat you would n't doubt it for an instant. For the last few years, however, I have been at Sing Sing but have just escaped (here Mr. Rooney reached for a club). I have, however, several bushels of Government bonds safely hidden a few hundred miles from here.” “Oh, that alters matters,” said Mr. Rooney with a sigh of relief as he laid down the club. “Make yourself at home,” he continued, “and allow me to present my daughter Judith.” And so saying he went out to bob for trout in the surf. A pause now ensued during which Judith thoughtfully scratched her right ankle with her other foot. At last, however, Judith said with some embarrassment : “Mr. Kid, did you know this was leap year.” that in order to soothe him Judith sat down at the melojun and began to sing, “O, had I the wings of a dove,” but upon glancing over her shoulder she discovered that Mr. Kid evidently had, for he was gone, and the door stood wide open. Snatching up her train Judith flew after him, out into the black night towards the deep, treacherous marshes. She was never seen again. This happened years and years ago. “ But still the boatmen hear her call, But still the boatmen hear her call, Call sweet William home, Across the sands, O D—-!” A HOUSEHOLD word—bills. SPORTING intelligence—showing off your wisdom. “Am I fond of Soros?s ?—don’t men-shun it! The (ad) dresses are always lovely.”—Kate Field. Chu editor of the New York 7ryé/azne is an astute poli- tician. He publishes Mr. Conkling’s daily witticisms, with explana- tory diagrams. This may obtain Mr. Conkling’s support. But has a long-suffering public no right to consideration from Reid Law White ? Absent-minded parson to disconsolate widower (whose wife he had buried only the week before): WELL, MR. Mr. Kid appeared so terror-stricken at this announcement | BROWN, HOW DOES YOUR WIFE STAND THE HEAT ? comicbooks.com