Life — March 5, 1885 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

A TRAGEDY IN THREE ACTS. I, URDETTE were funny if he would be, And Perkins would be if he could be, And Marcus Twainus ever should be; Why, then, by all the stars above us, And all the powers on earth that love us !— Why isn’t there a joke or two Every few centuries that 's new ? —LiFE. IL. And why does LIFE, a funny paper, Cut such an odd, fantastic caper ? Why not, if it wants something new, Grind out a new idea or two? Alas! the mote in some one else's eye Obscures in theirs a wood-pile twice as high. —Merchant Traveller, an Eclectic, Comico-Serious Weekly. II. Suggestions like the last are easy For papers with a wit that 's wheezy. We do n't give forth a new idea Because we 're seized with mortal fear— Perhaps we ought not to reveal it— The Merchant Traveller'd surely steal it. . . . UDGING from the number of repentant and bruised skaters in town, we have come to the conclusion that the old proverb should be revised to read: The roller skate gathers remorse. . . . NE thousand Anarchists have been expelled from Switzerland. The remaining dozen or two inhabitants will now be able to go about their business in peace. . . . RS. LANGTRY is said to have introduced the song, “Go To Sleep, My Baby,” in her performance of Lady Teazle. The innovation seems to have proved popu- lar with London audiences so we may soor. expect Romeo to warble “Over The Garden Wall,” to his Juliet and the Ghost of Hamlet’s father will close his remarks to his son with the effective little ballad, “See That My Grave 's Kept Green.” * . . “cs Wwe said Mrs. Spriggins in response to a remon- strance from her husband, “I got tired sittin’ up there all alone in solitaire, so I just went down and perco- lated through the crowd!" A POET'S MISERIES. (How he wrote tt.) ROM out the garland on her breast, The brightest flower she chose, And underneath the fairy stars I kissed the ruby rose. (As copied by a Northern paper.) From out the garment on her breast The brightest flower she chose, And underneath the azry stars I kissed her ruddy nose. (As copted from the foregoing by a Southern paper.) From out the garden on her wazst, The lightest flower she chose, And underneath the Aazry stars I kissed her muddy nose. (As copied from the foregoing by a Western paper.) From out the garden on her vest The tightest bower she chose, And underneath the dairy stairs I kicked her bloody nose. BEN Woop Davis. In Germany last year 15,607 works were published, being about eighty more than during the previous year.—Lewiston Journal. Of this number just six and a quarter were actually read and enjoyed. One book being read a quarter through by a man who mistook the title, “Revolutions in Germany,” for “ Revelations in a Nunnery.” GLIMPSES OF PARADISE, No. 4. B° Y, just arrived, who has recognized one of his heroes: Why don’t you have wings and fly about overhead as those angels do, instead of climbing around this way ? The Man, embarrassed : Mon Dieu ! One must know that wings are not given to all the world. Boy : But they would surely give them to an emperor? Man: There are no emperors here. Boy : Why, you just pointed out Charlemagne to me! Man, pinching boy's ear: 1 wish to say, little imbecile, that we cease to be emperors here, and are all equal. Boy: That seems unfair. But all those splendid battles of yours must count for something. The Man, shuddering ; En verité! They have counted. The Boy : Then when will you have the wings ? The Man: A long time from now. The Boy : But you have been here a long time already. The Man ; But, not at all. I just arrive. The Boy, puzsled : Just arrive! Why, it was over sixty years‘ago that you died. The Man : Yes, 1 know, but in the meantime I have been —er—somewhere else. comicbooks.com