Life — June 25, 1885 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

OLD-PROBABILITIES. WHen lightning plays,and thunder rolls I sometimes wonder whether, The noises heard may not be termed Reports of stormy weather. M. M. G. EXTRACT FROM A LONDON EDITORIAL. “cs MERICAN advices indicate that much interest centres in the fall elections to be held in the United States. Mr. Robert Bur- dette, an American statesman and politician, boldly predicts that Mr. Cleveland and his cabi- net will not resign in the event of a Democratic defeat in October; but it is not to be presumed that the new administration would so far ignore the admonitions of contemporary events and the silent dictates of immemorial usage, as to con- tinue to hold office in the face of an adverse popular verdict. If the present administration resigns, it is probable that Mr. Blaine will be asked to take the Presidency, and that Senator Morton, of Indiana; Mr. Jefferson Davis, of Rhode Island, and Mr. Gail Hamilton, of Mis- sissippi, will have positions in the new cabinet. American politics of the present day plainly teach how vain and futile is the effort to inaugu- rate a reign of quietude and tranquillity by in- voking the malign forces of partisan contention and revolutionary disorder.” Missus, DO YO’ CAIAH 'F I REMODEL DAT SCAIAH CROW? COZ WHEN CULLUD GENLMEN COME BY DEY TINKS I's OUT IN MY EVAH DAY CLOES. : THE EMERGENCY GIRL. LAMP-POST. A peripatetic German street band. A horse. A rider whose cords and tops are more fault- less than his “seat.” Struggle between the band and the “Sweet Bye-and-Bye.” Victory for the latter. Misunder- standing between horse and rider. Success of the former. One round between a human skull and the lamp-post. Score one for the lamp-post. “Here's Dr. Perkins!" exclaimed a voice, as a stout gentleman elbowed his way into the group. Dr. Perkins bent for a moment over the prostrate form. Then he turned away with a sad face. “I can do nothing here,” he said, pushing his way out of the crowd. “I know him. It is Arlington Clarendon—he's an allopath. He would never forgive himself or me if I were to bring him to homeopathically.” . . . . * * * “Celestine,” said Miss Albertina Van Spuytentuyvel, de- scendant of the proud family of Van Spuytentuyvels, from Spuytentuyvelville, Europe; “Celestine,” she said to her French maid, “is my emergency bag ready ?” “Have you tied that little pink bow on the hypo-dermic injector—and_ put the cocaine in the cut-glass bottle—and have you filed the cross-cut saw ?”” “We, Mumsel "—from the maid. “Then I will go to walk,” and taking the silver-mounted bag, the fair girl swept from the room. She looked a god- dess and she walked a queen. She looked a gentle, lovely woman, and she walked a determined creature with an emer- gency bag and a purpose. . . * * . “Make way, gentlemen, if you please!” The crowd about the unconscious sufferer parted right and left as a tall lady, trimmed with fur, pushed her way to the insensible form. Hastily removing her gloves, and spreading her lace hand- kerchief upon the curb-stone, Albertina seated herself beside the sufferer and placed her muff of Russian sable beneath his head. With tender hands she forced apart the jaws clenched grimly together. One glance at the throat revealed the worst ; the right leg was broken in two places ! For a moment the face of the intrepid girl paled. Then with determination and the lancet, she knelt upon the sense- less patient and deftly severed the useless member from the trunk. Bare-headed, the crowd stood about the courageous girl. And up the long street, borne on the zephyrs from the German band, was wafted, as a benizen upon that heroic woman, the strains of that incomparable masterpiece : “Saw my leg off—short.”