Life — February 11, 1886 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

A WEIGHTY QUESTION. “cc OU look troubled, old chappie,” said J. Buck- ingham Stubbs, meeting his friend, Willie Willoughby Hig- gins, on the avenue. “Ah! youv’e stwuck it, m’ dear fello’. Am in an awful state,” said Willie. “Women, or debts, or both ?” “No—nothing sort—ah—fact is, I find it utterly impossible, don’t y’ know, to make up my mind whether I—ah—shall have the cape of my—ah—new top- coat one or—ah—two feet long,” «said J. Buckingham. “Two feet, my dear fellow— ah—two feet, by all means!" ejaculated Willie. “ Thanks—ah—thanks, awful- ly. You've taken a—ah—per- fect mountain off my— ah— mind. Haven't done so much —ah—thinking in years—no, dear boy, not in years. Ah, let's have a dwop of soda with —ah—a dash of bwandy. I feel —ah—all knocked to pieces— weaction, I suppose.” And they adjourned to the nearest café T is asserted that if old Ana- nias—“ shamed full oft by later liars on earth”—were to reappear in the flesh, he would She (timidly): edit a daily paper in Cincinnati. | priver? a He (fishingly): STAMPING GROUND.— The post-office. you THEN. I HOPE YOU ARE NOT A RECKLESS No, ALTHOUGH I WAS CONSIDERED QUITE RECKLESS WHEN YOUNG. She (naively): O, I aM so GLaD I DID NOT KNOW 87 A LITTLE HAND. HELD a little hand in mine, And eager gazed upon it, | Nor dreamed it would inspire a | line Of this brief, simple sonnet. And then I dropped it like a shot, And made no vain excuses, For who could hope to win a pot Upon a pair of deuces ? HE Chinese name for the devil is It Ching. From this it may be inferred that the term “ Old Scratch” is of Chi- nese origin. SALVATION ARMY squadron at Lansing, Michigan, advertised a “four days’ special attack on the devil.” We have not yet learned who came out ahead. SOAP peddler came near being mobbed in Chicago the other day. Chicagoans will stand almost anything but a personal insult. COMMON, BUT NOT COM- PULSORY. “cc A,” asked a little boy, “when a politician goes into office does he have to take an oath?” “Yes.” “And when he goes out of office does he take an oath ?” “Yes, but there is nothing compulsory about it.” SKEER'N DE OLE MAN. O POWN by de ribber— Down by de ribber I'se a-gwine ter a-bave a-my poo’ so’ feet, An’ ercross dat ribber, I 'se a-gwine ter a-walk a-on a gol’-dus' street, Down by de ribber. OOD LOR’! Wh’—what yo’ mean, chile, a-jump'n frum behin’ dat co’n-crib a-skeer’n de ole man fer ? Humph? I’se got er min’ ter tan yo’ brack hide, ’n dat’s de trufe. Jes’ han’ me dat club; de dzgges’ one,—a-jump'n out frum behin dat co’n-crib—doan’ yo’ heah me a-ax’n yo’? Humph? Dar wuz once’t er little nigger—not a han’ higher’n yo’ dar—'n he jump out wif er wile hoop like a In-jine frum be- hin’ de co’n-crib a-skeer'n ob a ole man a-chopp’n stove- wood, an’ a—a—no, dar wuz /ree—free ob dem,—free ob de bigges’ kin’ ob b’ars! 'n dem b’ars jes’ clumb’d right ober dat fence whur dey wuz a-wait’n behin’ er stump, de b’ars did, 'n dey eat 'm all up; dar wuz n't a toe-nail lef’. De ole man? Eat up de ole man? What yo’ a-tink’n I’se tak’n "bout ? Eat up de poo’ ole man! No, sah! deb’ars et up de boy; de boy whut cum’d a-jump'n out frum behin’ de co’n-crib a-skeer’n ob de ole man a-chopp’n wood ; an’ de ole man he et up de b’ars ; he a-mos’ choke he-sef on de buttons whut wuz on dat boy’s jacket, ’n he wuz mighty sick fur mos'a whole day frum a-eat’n so much b’ar 'n dem buttons ; but dat boy he neber say’d any mo’, “ Go down de street, ball-head,” ner cum a-jump’n out frum behin’ dat co'n-crib a skeer’n ob de ole man. B. Zim. comicbooks.com