Life — August 28, 1884 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

VOL. IV. AUG. 281TH, 1884. 1155 Broapway, New York. Published every Thursday, $5 a year in advance, postage free. Single copies, ro cents. Back numbers can be had by applying to this office. Vol. I., 20 cents per copy ; Vols. II. and III, at regular rates. Rejected contributions will not be returned unless accompanied by a stamped and directed envelope. HE Rev. Mr. Gillespie Turner, of Cairo, Ill. recently undertook an evangelical campaign against that strong- hold of Satan, situated remotely in Texas and designated upon large maps by a fly-speck named Brackettsville. Bracketts- ville consists of twenty-seven saloons and a grocery, and the chief local industry is to supply reliable frontier whiskey to such gentlemen of the U.S. Cavalry as come over or pass from Fort Clark to whoop it up and paint the town red. Ther a Justice of the Peace in Brackettsville whose re- volver has a frolicsome reputation on convivial occasions, and a hotel man who has peopled one-fourth of the corporate graveyard and is otherwise a much respected citizen. It so happened that the Rev. Mr. Turner arrived on the 3d of July, which date had also been fixed for the arrival of a large and interesting circus, whose many attractions had been billed on the public square for a week. In anticipation of its arrival the hotel man and several other capitalists had erected an enormous tent and furnished it appropriately with saw- dust, a peanut-stand and seven circles of benches, and had notified the manager that he could spare himself the trouble and expense of bringing these paraphernalia along. By some untoward accident the circus had mired itself in a mud bank twenty miles below and failed to arrive, its place came the Rev. Mr. Turner and his mule. s ised and delighted to be met by a posse of distinguished citizens with the justice of the peace at its head, to be followed enthusiastically by the local small boys in tumultuous throngs, and to receive from the hotel man a warm welcome, and from the Brackettsville Brass Band a ser- enade, which made up in vigor what, from the fact that each member played a different tune, it lacked in harmony. “We've got the bossest tent in Texis,” said the Justice, effusively. “ Betcherlife ther ’s no flies on Brackettsville fer s sle the monkeys 'n spangles fer all yer worth, pard,” said the hotel man ; “whoop her up,’n we ’ll back yer.” These and similar remarks were somewhat incomprehensi- ble to the Reverend Mr. Turner, but he supposed it was bor- der enthusiasm, and could not take amiss the kindness of his reception. He was fatigued by his journey and the Brass Band; and, stating that he would gladly consent to hold serv- ices at 10 A. M. on the following day, retired to the best room in the house and sank to sleep with a feeling of triumph at the ease with which he had routed the devil. At 9 o'clock, when he arose, the Brass Band was doing its best at the tent, a block away, and the hotel was nearly de- serted, Ata quarter to ten he thought he would step over and open the campaign. The justice of the peace was selling tick- ets to Mexicans and soldiers as fast as he could take in the money, and the hotel man was running the peanut and pink lemonade stand with astonishing lung power and skill. A yell of delight went up from the crowd as the Rev. Mr. Turner entered the tent. It was packed from ring to roof, and every citizen had a bag of peanuts, a bottle of whiskey and a revolver, The Rev. Mr. Turner thought it a little queer, but stepped into the ring and signaled for silence. There was a tremen- dous round of applause and then a hush. He intoned a psalm, at which the small boys kept time with their feet, and the Mexicans, not understanding the language, giggled. At the end of it, however, the audience was cold. The Rev. Mr. Turner mopped his brow and gave out a hymn, but no one seemed to understand. At this juncture the Justice en- tered and leaned over the rope. “ Trot out the procesh fust, pard,” he whispered ; “ or give em a monkey ’n dog race ’n kinder warm up fer the clowns.” “T fail to—I—I do not quite—” “Let out the whoopla gal—turn her loose;” urged the Justice ; “ yar’s six hundred and forty dollars begawd, sir.” “But—” said the Rev. Mr. Turner. And then the Justice entcred the ring and held a conversation in whispers with him. It lasted a minute and a quarter, and then the Justice solemnly, but with the air of a man who is performing a duty, turned the Rev. Mr. Turner about, placed both hands on his shoulders and by a series of skillful kicks propelled him out the main entrance and half way to the hotel. Then he returned and said: “Feller citizens, the succus hez moved out, ’n the perform- ince is postponed on account of weather. Money will be re- funded at the door, and Jim Stoddard will perwide two buckets of tar ’n a feather bed for the afternoon swarry.” The Rev. Mr. Turner has some trouble yet at his Cairo home when he parts his hair, but whiskey, cavalry men and the Devil have doubled their hold on Brackettsville. comicbooks.com