Life — October 23, 1884 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

VOL. IV. 23D, 1884. 1155 Broapway, New York. Published every Thursday, $5 a year in advance, postage free. Single copies, to cents. Back numbers can be had by applying to this office.’ Vol. I., 0 cents per copy ; Vols. II. and III, regular rates. Rejected contributions will not be returned unless accompanied by a stamped and directed envelope. [HE day and the men are at hand, and by the glow of the watchfires each battle sees the other's umbered face. There have been mighty doings. There has been the blare of trumpets, the rattle of drums, the rustle of greenbacks, the slogan of Logan, the pean of Blaine. Butler has whooped, Tilden has sneezed, and Beiva has done her level best, which was n't much, but Belva tries real hard, and we must n't laugh at her. Well, the day is at hand, and soap is the word, and the boys are buckled up for the fray. Now the question is— Which ? . . AMES G. BLAINE of Maine is the most conspicuous J candidate before us. More mud has been thrown at Blaine than at any man living, and more of it has stuck. Blaine wrote letters—Blaine did—and Blaine has Little Rock and Pacific railroads and lots of other things to rattle | around him and make the welkin ring. If Blaine gets in, there is one thing certain—there will be precious little rascality afoot in Washington that he will not know of. . . . ROVER CLEVELAND comes next. Grover isn't liked by the New York Sua, and that certainly ought to lose him the votes of Ward's Island and Sing Sing. Grover has not only tried to be honest, but has been so, and that ought to settle him as a candidate in these days. Somehow, though, he seems to loom up, and it would n't be fair to omit all men- tion of him. G ERAL BENJAMIN F. BUTLER is third. J twenty odd years since Butler was a general. It cer- tainly will be sixty years before he will be a President. But it does his old heart good to stump around, and paint the town red, and yell for the workingman, and read the Sun and be hopeful, and it does nobody harm. Spoons and the governor- ship of Massachusetts were the death of Butler. So we look . * . Tt is on this as merely the old man’s playfulness, and so let him go. | . . . S*™ JOHN is fourth. St. John never drinks behind the bar. He will want to on the fifth of November. es ay rr en ee RS. BELVA LOCKWOOD is fifth. She might be sixth or ninety-fourth, and be just as happy. . . . HERE they are, with a sprinkling of Logan, Hendricks and others to fill in and make a glorious ticket. The American citizen never had a better chance. Principle and Honesty against Rascality and Machinery—that is the simple cause for which the ballots will fall. . . . T has not been a brilliant campaign. The air has been too thick with flying mud. But the sky is clearing more and more, and not long will it be before the great question will be decided, whether we choose our rulers through wis- dom, or through a blind spirit of party pride and imbecility. * . . HE 7imes announces that sixteen persons have died in Vermont during the past three years who were reputed to be over one hundred years old. This record is not pleasant to contemplate and considering the fact that Centennialism is a disease that can be most easily avoided, it seems to show that Vermonters are unpar- donably lax in their efforts to prevent an increase of mor- tality. . . * HE old Puritanical tyranny peculiar to New England is breaking out once more in Boston. By an arbitrary act of the Police Commissioners of that City the Police have been deprived of one of their inherent rights. The rule forbidding members of the force in the future from taking peanuts or fruit from the stands of street vendors without duly compensating the dealers therefor by cash is a direct blow against the time honored institutions which are the foundation of our national prosperity. Gentlemen of Boston, Beware! OW that the various collegiate institutions in the country have arrayed themselves on one side or the other—or on both—of the political contest, the Nation breathlessly awaits the fiat which shall go forth from the numerous Kin- der-Gartens, in which our land abounds. . . . OST: Somewhere in Ohio, 12,000 votes of no use to anybody but the owner. Especially valued as an heir- loom. The finder will be liberally rewarded by leaving the same with the undersigned on November 4th, between the hours of 6 A. M., and 6 P. M. J. G. B., Maine. comicbooks.com