Life — October 9, 1884 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

- LIFE: Mr. JOHNSON opened a window. Mr. WHIFFLES was dis- posed to call. “Goferim, goferim !" whispered Mr. WILLIAMS; “ wuff- less niggah, he ain't got no mo 'n a flisk—goferim !" Under this advice Mr. WHIFFLES raised five dollars. Mr. WILLIAMS winked at the Rev. Mr. SMITH, and that gentle- man raised back ten, Mr. WHIFFLES went down in his bootleg and pulled out another wad. “T calls,” he said, putting up the money. no cyards.”” The Rev. Mr. SMITH took two cards. Mr. WHIFFLES bet one chip. The Rev. Mr. SMITH raised him ten dollars. “| ain't god no mo’ spondles,” said Mr. WHIFFLES, aghast at the magnitude of the transaction he had been drawn into, “I’se god up my room rent, an’ wages, 'n all de clections fer de boss in de barbah shop now.” “Put up dem notes,” whispered Mr. WILLIAMS. ‘em off on de ole suckah.” Mr. WHIFFLES put up the I. O. U.'s he had from Mr. WILLIAMS’ last game. “Whad am’ de quotation on dese yar’ bon’s ?” asked the Rey. Mr. SMITH, examining them curiously. “ Dey goes at pah,” said Mr. WILLIA’ “ Den took 'em up,” said the Rev. Mr. him again. Mr. WILLIAMS extricated twenty dollars from his hat, three from his vest-pocket and two from his trousers, and took up the notes. “ Whad do yer do now, Cy?” asked the Rev. Mr. SMITH. “ Doan’ want “Work “rise yo’ de balans,” said Mr. WHIFFLES, who was per- | fectly willing to bet away Mr. WILLIAMS'S money. “ Rise yo’ ten,” said the Rev. Mr. SMITH. “ Ain't got it,” said Mr. WHIFFL “Borrow from Toor.” Mr. WILLIAMS advanced the money, and Mr. WHIFFLES called. The Rev. Mr. SMITH winked at Mr. WILLIAMS again, and showed down a king full. Mr. WHIFFLES fainted. The Rey. Mr. SMITH poured a glass of beer down his back | to revive him, and then, to Mr. WILLIAMS'S horror, paid him back all the money he had won, except that which had been put up by Mr. WILLIAMS himself. “Whad yo" doin’ dat for?” demanded Mr. WILLIAMS, | aghast. “ Doan’ want ter rob dat sufferin’ moke,” said the Rev. Mr. SMITH. “Didn’ yo’ wunk at me?” asked Mr. WILLIAMS, “ an’ doan’ dat mean er square divvy on de winnin’ ?” The Rev. Mr. SMITH was silent. “Did n’ yo’ wunk at me ?” yelled Mr. WILLIAMS. The Rev. Mr. SMITH put his feet on the table and leaned back. “ Toot,” he said, sweetly, “I ‘se got a sty on my left eye, an’ it wiggles. Dad muss have given yo’ de wrong flip. It am ag’in de prowishuns ob rule sixty-fo’ ter wink at de mem- bah doin’ de bettin’, an’ ef 1 déd wunk, it was ter remin’ yo’ ob dat rule.” MITH, winking at | 203 “Gin me back dat thutty dollahs, den,” said Mr. WILLIAMS, in a tone of war. “Cawn't,” said the Rev. Mr. THANKFUL SMITH, “ bud | Brer WHIFFLEs hes god thutty-six dollahs mo’ in yo’ papah, and ef he's hones’, he 'll give yo’ ten of it and call it squar’. Mr. WHIFFLES gave Mr. WILLIAMS another $1o I. O. U. received from him the week before. Mr. WILLIAMS took it in sullen silence. “Dad 's swindlin’,” he said, as he rose to leave the room. “No, sah,” said the Rev. Mr. SMITH, with the air of one inculcating a lofty moral, ad's pokah, Toot. Dere am two rules yo’ didn’ membah, Fust, doan’ bet on anudder man’s wink, 'n de: of all, ‘doan’ take back yo’ own papah at pah.’"” Mr. WILLIAMS went home, de wisi THE WRECK OF THE SHIP. 1860. Awres DLY ship sails forth from port, All in her robes of white ; And glideth past a blazing fort Into the starry night; Through fair or foul this ship of state, Whose course dispelleth fears, Doth carry naught but kindly fate For four-and-twenty years. 1884. ‘The craft is now a- phantom ship, That floats a spectre bare ; Tossed like an idle painted chip By every sea-sick air; Strange faces peer from o'er her side; What figures can they be? Have all the men that manned her died ?— Or is it piracy ? But see! a storm breaks on the deep; The wind it blows a gale! On toward the rocks with fearful sweep The thing begins to sail ! She strikes ‘mid shrieks of wild di Mad waves dash o'er her deck— The morning sun belolds her there, Alas! a sad sea wreck! WARD ERNEST SMITH. pair ; Laptes’ bathing dresses have been offering us all the in- delicacies of the season. ROBESON TAKEN THE STUMP.—Dadtly paper. Whose ? HAS COMPARISONS are odorous, but who a few days since could help saying over gently, Hot: Hotter: Hottest. Hottentot: Hottentoter: Hottentotest. Hot as blazes: Hot as blue blazes :—hot.