Life — November 6, 1884 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

256 BOOMLETS, 5 | R. Blaine wears his initial in his hat. It is a sort of | Presidential B. . . . LUE” seems to be the favorite color in the Republi- can camp just now. * . * RS. Spriggins thinks that from “all she’s heard about Mitchell and them prize-fighters like Gilbert and Sullivan, the man Full-James has the most descriptive name.” . * . HE jewellers have swung for the Republican Ticket. Rah for Gem Blaine! . . * ] R. Beecher has paraded for some time as a praiser of soap. He now goes back of that and appears as an indorser of lie—Burlington Free Press. This is the first intimation we have had that Mr. Beecher endorses Blaine. y MAN has discovered the remains of a mastodon in | Moorsville, Mo., one of whose teeth weighs twenty- four pounds. ‘This is important as it proves that General Butler's lower | jaw is not unique. * . . * F T is respectfully suggested that should Mrs. Lockwood wear ‘“skirtaloons” she might run a litde better. . * * T HE most apt description of Massachusetts’ ex-Governor was that of a gentleman who pointing to Gen. Butler said ; * Do you see that vacuum over there? That's Butler.” . . . pant has at last consented to come to America. That ’s kind of Patti. Especially when America was so willing to go over to her. . . . E regret to observe that the chances of St. John in his contest with the Demi-John are not as good as they might be. . . . T is rumored that Mr. Blaine was so impressed by the magnificence of the Evarts menu last Wednesday that he has decided to have the eminent linguist in his Cabinet as Secretary of the Interior. . . . ITH Messrs, Grant and Grace running for the Mayor- alty we can confidently predict the winner. Of course our next Mayor will be Mr. Gra—, still perhaps we had best not tell all we know. . . . VALEDICTORY. HE melancholy days have come, ‘Tis colder than the tomb, For politics no longer hum And Boomlets cease to boom. - LIFE: DECEIVERS EVER. R. G. DE FOREST BRAUNE sat at the window of his club in Fifth Avenue meditating. S: He was the sole representative of a name which had with- stood the vicissitudes of five generations and still had three of the original letters left. He had just finished “doing " the continent extensively and was now returned with the fixed determination of making a last struggle for happiness by selecting the future Mrs. Braune. Four years back in his memory was the vision of a coy débutante who, upon the marriage of her eldest sister, had suddenly emerged from comparative obscurity and short dresses, as Miss Theodosia Livingston, and her he had select- ed. He did not want to win her hand, however, in the con- ventional way. His name and fortune would of course carry him at once to the bosoms of the whole family. So he thought. Mr. Braune was drawing his conclusions from premises of long ago. He did not know that ¢empora mutantur. Theodosia must be his by the simple means which nature and education had given him! But how to make a separate and distinct use of these means! Upon that he was medi- | tating. Mechanically, he picked up the Dazly Hear-All. A notice attracted his eye. It read: Wanted. A reliable coachman at three hundred and umpty- five Fifth Avenue. “ Three hundred and umpty-five,” soliloquized Mr. Braune thoughtfully.“ Why, by Jove, that 's her number.” We will take occasion here to remark that Socrates, it is said, once subjected his own mother to a critical analysis and then reproached her that the only good she had done in the world was to give him birth. This was the only point of resemblance between Socrates, Mr. G. de Forest Braune and other Europeanized-Americans. Upon arriving home, Mr. Braune at once began to note the characteristics and defi- ciencies of his mother-country. The coachman wave was just sweeping over the land, and he had been much interested in a study of its rise and hasty development. An opportunity was now presented for making a practical test of his theories. An earnest glance into the mirror relieved him at once of any fear that a betrayal of his identity would result from a too intelligent face. “By Jove, I will do it!” he exclaimed, forgetting himself in the excitement of the moment and slapping his hand vio- lently down on one knee, Then he looked furtively around to see if any one had ob- served an exhibition of feeling in such bad form. . * * . . In the 8 P. M., gloaming when night and day with locked wings were sweeping over the city, a smooth-shaven young man ran lightly up the marble steps of three hundred and comicbooks.com