Life — July 31, 1884 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

TE DUCE JACOBUM! HEY say whereas he started poor, » The boodle now is his ; By dubious steps from state obscure, To wealth and fame he riz. They get bad names and roll them all Together in a lump To throw at him ; but never call Jim Blaine, of Maine, a chump. Cuorus. Then let the Rocky Mountains roar, The Alleghanies grow! ; The continent from shore to shore Stand up on end and howl. Amidst the horns’ pervasive biare, And drums’ delirous thump, His dearest foe will never care To call Jim Blaine a chump. The Stalwart chief, beyond a doubt He named a turkey cock ; There was some gossip, too, about Fort Smith and Little Rock ; They talk about one Mulligan— It’s tiresome to explain— But doglehead is still a term They do n't apply to Blaine. They speak of him as Guano Jim, And many folks believe He wrote to Hurlbut, “ Douse your glim !” And added, “ Go it; Steve !”” They claim he has a tattooed hide, And say the marks are plain, But no one calls our party’s pride, “That wooden Injun Blaine !” INNOCENT wife: “What do you mean, Charlie, by ‘strad- dling a blind?’ I should think it would be so much easier to | ride a rail, if that is a way you have of initiating men at the club.” It is proverbially asserted that every dog has his day. If such was the fact, dog-days would be rather more numerous than they are in this latitude. A chore time ago the newspapers told a romantic story which was disclosed at the death-bed of a beggar in London. This beggar was of good birth and education, but stung with remorse at the grave consequences of some thoughtless act, had resolved to live an exile and a pauper for twenty years, speaking to no one during all that time. This vow had been rigidly kept for fifteen years of the allotted period. It is unnec- essary in telling this story to mention the sex of the beggar. If a woman could ever be found who could act the part of a deaf-mute for fifteen hours, it would create even a greater sensation. There is a chance in this line for some woman to make herself as famous as Mrs. Dr. Mary Walker, Susan Blaine Anthony or Dr. Tanner. > LIFE: THE THOMPSON ST. POKER CLUB. THE REv. MR. THANKFUL SMITH ILLUSTRATES A DEt:- CATE POINT IN FINANCE. T the regular meeting of the Thompson St. Poker Club, Saturday night, there was trouble. It seemed that each member wished to look on, and that the Rev. Mr. THANK- FUL SMITH was the only one who wished to play. Mr. Cy- ANIDE WHIFFLES said he had been arguing the Mulligan letter business with a Cleveland man, and felt tired; Profes- sor BRICK complained that the subject as to whether beer should not be taken through a straw, which he was now in- vestigating, was so complex that he really could n’t get his mind out of it. Mr. RUBE JACKSON stated that the recent panicky feeling in Wall Street had so affected the kalsomin- ing interests that he felt financially indisposed, and Mr. TooT- ER WILLIAMS avowed his belief that the vigorous cash sys- tem pursued of late in the Club was one which, in view of the coming campaign, the members should modify. The Rev. Mr. THANKFUL SMITH heard these various objections, pol- ished his spectacles several times with his bandana, inge- niously adjusted the fly leaf of his cigar with mucilage so that it would draw, put his feet on the table, blew a cloud, and for ten minutes seemed lost in an interesting calculation. Then he proposed that the members should each buy three dollars’ worth of chips, for cash, and whatever losses went beyond that should be settled by I. O. Us. This solution to the diffi- culty met with instant favor, and the alacrity with which even Professor BRICK drew out three dollars and his chair to the table showed that the Club’s interest in the noble game had not for a moment abated, notwithstanding the other tremen- dous questions in which the country at large was involved. Mr. TOOTER WILLIAMS offered to bank, and to the great surprise of all, the Rev. Mr. THANKFUL SMITH made not the slightest objection. Each member put up his three dol- lars and received the equivalent stacks. Mr. WILLIAMS got the deal, and the game began. For two hours the interest was feeble, owing to the two- pair complexion of called hands, but at last the simultaneous arrival of a jack-pot, Mr. WHIFFLES’ deal, and the wicked look in Mr. WILLIAMS’ eye woke everybody up to the fact that the event of the evening had come. It had been agreed that no one should issue an I. O. U. un- til his chips were exhausted, and so the jack-pot consisted mainly of celluloid, the one paper it contained coming from Mr. WHIFFLES, whom three deuces had ruined a few min- utes before. Mr. WILLIAMS opened with four dollars in chips. Prof. BRICK came in with a dollar stack of chips and a three dollar 1.0. U. “T rise dat adollab,’ said the Rev. Mr. THANKFUL SMITH, putting in a $10 I. O. U. of Mr. WILLIAMS’, which he had won, and taking out $5 change in chips. Mr. WHIFFLES, faving no chips, called with an I. O. U. Mr. WILLIAMS por dered. “T sees dat rise, «nd I liff yo’ nine dollahs,” said Mr. WIL- LIAMS, writing out another ten dollar I. O. U. comicbooks.com