Life — September 25, 1884 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

| Big bre Of ach wag the Asef Mouglache. ond a han, ome f T moustache. and 45 ace, i te Fs Mi thought hed each his child fo fleet H Alas he found to his digmay dest oe twas ty ¢ to part, " ec Wa! all Shed robbed Fim of BS West aw: Kb THE BITER BITTEN. CHAPTER V. WO years glided away. It is a way years have of doing. Verbena Cecil had celebrated her third twenty-first birthday on the night before, and was slowly recuperating from the nervous exhaustion consequent upon the discovery | that the elaborate cheque given her at the reception had acci- dentally been drawn by the old man on the wrong bank and was not negotiable. But she still had her banjo and her pug, and St. Vernon De Silver had sent word that he would call at 4:30. St. Vernon De Silver was the latest, and Verbena had been instructed by both Mummer and Popper not to turn him loose. But somehow her heart wandered back to the time she had given her plight to Albemarle. She wondered is he had accomplished his end—was really king. At this moment the French maid entered with the morning paper. eyes and auburn hair, a5 “the farmers daughter, hy How fe ie and use her eyes ad ever Taught hey. imof hig hear! 179 MRS. SPRIGGINS ON THE NEWSPAPERS. “ SEED in the paper this mornin’ that the Cantelope seizin’ was pretty near over,” said Mrs. Spriggins as she seated herself at the tea-table and began pouring her beloved’s tea for him.“ Thinks I ter myself, pretty near over! Wal I guess so. Over long ago, judgin’ from the doin’s of these fellers an’ gals we read so much on. 'N I don’t see no use in kickin’ up a | rumpus because a gal marries a coachman. They didn’t raise no | row at Sairey Smith's weddin’ an’ | they said rite out that she married the Groom 'n thet's worse 'n a coach- | man. 'N Jim Binx wasn't no groom neither, but he mout as well have bin for all what Perfessor Jag calls the hoi pollys knowed ‘bout it. This yere exporting lies for the newspapers oughter be sat on to, I say. More tea, Joshuay ?” ME FOR THE Fawn. FITTING Cos SOCIAL PARASITE. A STORM-SCENTER—The Signal ! Service observer. inkers So WanteED—An official blue book of the Jones family in politics. A Simp_eE Contract—Wager flirt, | between two fools as to which is tt the greater. THE BipLe CLass—Clergymen. “ Plaze, Miss Verbeeny,” she said in those low, sweet tones of the south of France, “yer maw sez ef yer donn’t kem down, yer'l git no lunch.” So saying she went out and softly slammed the door. Verbena knew her mother better than to give way to her. So she unfolded the paper, and read the following dispatch : Waco, TEX., May 8th.—At nine o'clock this morning, the noted desperado, Albemarle Van Bumblebug, who for two years has been calling himself “ King of the Cowboys,” was tarred and feathered a mile from this city by the Vigilance Committee. for inducing a young man to wear a collar which in one half-hour had decapitated him. Van Bumblebug then confessed his crime and was hanged. . Verbena started and instinctively bit her lip. But she at once saw her error and haughtily crushed the paper beneath comicbooks.com