Life — August 14, 1884 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

After Sceneri had eaten all my baggage as well as part of my guide's, he became talkative. “Who was it you murdered three years ago in Horace Street ?” said I by way of an opener. The start he gave shook the roof and the Captain who was pacing up and down without put his eye to the keyhole. He was suspicious, “Macaroni killed him,” said Sceneri. “I stole his money and his life was all he had left. We rather hankered after that too, for he wore good clothes and we were poor, His name was Anthony March, Pauline’s brother.” I was happy. The murdered man was not Pauline’s lover and Macaroni was an accomplished liar. I might have known it and saved the expense of the trip.“ Yes, sir,” continued Sceneri. “ Mac wanted to marry Pauline but Anthony did n’t fancy the match, Mac had n’t any sponds. He said Mac was yood enough outside but there was nothing in him.” “Yes,” said I, “ Macaroni is apt to be quite hollow !” The wretched man was much overcome and I thought he was going to die. The sight of a bank note, however, brought him to. “Well, good bye, Sceneri,” said I. know and I ‘ll see you later.” “ Notif [ see you first,” he replied.“ By the way if anything horrible happens to Macaroni just let me know. It ‘Il do my heart good. If it had n't been for him the Czar would have been Russian to his hereafter and I—well I would have been making it hot for royalty allaround. Mac's a ¢radttore from Tradatoria, he is. Leave a few dollars with the Captain for me, will you? If you do he'll keep it, and won't steal my clothes. Good bye, Vaughan! I'm off for the mines, and as the poets say what 's mines me own.” He held out his hand but I could not grasp it. All the convicts were looking and besides as I was not a candidate for office I did not require his vote. Packing my valise, | hurried back to England, taking with me, as I have said, material enough for four volumes. 1 had to leave Siberia. It was too large for me to take with me, and besides the Czar wanted it. 1 found Pauline and Priscilla, the two green peas of my life, awaiting my return. Priscilla introduced me to my wife, who didn’t seem to know me, and after some time I man- aged to coax a few ideas and some intellect into her head. She seemed relieved when I told her that Anthony was buried. She thought he had not been, and it made her uneasy, naturally, as he had been dead nearly four years. Two years later I saw “Macaroni on his way to a French shooting match, in which he officiated as target. I sent the welcome news to Sceneri on a postal card, but it was returned to me marked “due six cents.” Sceneri had n't the money to pay the extra postage, and it was returned. shortly after of curiosity of the postalcardium. My tale is told. Pauline and I take a pleasure trip to Antho- ny's grave every autumn, and are happy. She knows me now, and can recognize my footstep, no matter what time of the night I come home or how confused the footsteps may be. “T know all I want to He died I could go on and write chapter after chapter concerning Pauline, but I could n't find a publisher, so I won't. Even now she lassos my neck with her arm and remarks: “You ‘ve written too much too much of me my husband.” Whether she means by this that she is her own husband or. that there is too much of me, her husband, I cannot say. Probably she does. With this, the only difference of opinion that exists be- tween us, my tale may end. J. K. Bancs. THE END, BOOMLETS. ERE Mr. Hosea Biglow together with his friend and Pastor the Rev. Homer Wilbur, A.M., G.O.P., E.T.C., in this country to-day instead of ministering to the wants of our Vigorous Foreign and English Policy, we would doubtless be treated to something like the following verse which was re- ceived at a late hour last night from the National Republican Headquarters : Miss Susan B. Anthony, she Has fallen in love with, J. G. B. For Anthonee, She thinks that he Would whoop up with vigor the policee Without which she This aged fe- Male thinks the country aint worth a D. * . . OLLECTOR JOHN A. TIBBETTS of New London, in a speech ratifying the Blaine and Logan nomina- tions uses some truly temperate language when he says, “If Yale college is to be prostituted to the teachings of free trade to young men, may it burn down in a year.” Mr. Blaine should be protected from his friends. By the way, suppose there should be free trade, could Col- lector John A. Tibbetts find enough to do to warrant the Gov- ernment in paying him a salary? We think we see Collector John A. Tibbetts’s animus! * . . HE New York Sw has a cruel habit of pushing candi- dates into prominence, and then ruthlessly destroying them. Its latest choice, Honest Ben Butler, has been sent the way of all such. The Sux accuses him of writing poetry ! Butler cannot now enter the White House. * * . T is rumored abroad that Mr. Reid-Law White is soon to publish in his 7ryé/aine a series of damaging letters written by Cleveland. They are the Mulligan letters, except that the editor has “merely taken the liberty” of inserting the name of Cleve- land wherever that of Blaine occurred. This is characteristic! comicbooks.com