Life — April 8, 1886 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

- LIFE: A WOULD-BE FASHIONABLE WEEKLY. NE part of pruriency, one of lubricity, . All the stale scandals of London and this city ; Becoming each week just a bit more salacious, With a maw for divorces extremely capacious. Gossip of ninnies anent a new gown— A fair sample copy of Slops of the Town.” 201 CARELESS. HAT is it ?” asked a waiter in an uptown restau- rant, as he contemptuously poised a dime, which a gentleman had just given him, on his index finger. “What is it? Why, it’s a—— Well, I'll be hanged,” said the gentleman, interrupting himself and putting the dime - back in his pocket, “if I didn’t think I gave you a twenty “cc It will equal ere long, though it has not come yet, In wealth, as in tone, the (Police) Court Gazette. TWO FOR A CENT—A couple of bloodhounds. dollar gold piece ! ac S. I beg your pardon. It's my mistake.” R. MARY WALKER was never known to give her seat to a lady in a street car. We suspect that Dr. Mary Walker is no gentleman. HE HAUGHTILY BECKONS A SHRINKING CAPITALIST, WHAT AILS US, ANYHOW? RIAN O'SHAUGHNESSY, a cold, sneering, laboring man, puffed up with power and swelling with the pride of position, haughtily beckoned a shrinking capitalist to approach and rub his boots with clay. The serf obeyed, O'Shaughnessy condescendingly chatted with the poor millionaire—unbending so far from his position of pride and artisan arro- gance as to ‘* chaff” the unfortunate one. “D'ye remimber,” said he, ‘how yous fellys used to make our b'yes shoine yer boots ? Bedad! that day is pasht an’ gone. Anny man ov standin’ an’ anny laidher av the paiple wears the boots av him shoined wid mud the day. Luck at me coat, wid me arrums out at the elbows! Sure that's proof that I’m not a mane, thricky capitalist, wid a bank account an’ a fartune!” “Sir,” quoth the millionaire, giving an extra touch of mud to the heels, ‘ do hot un- | duly oppress us. We have wives and children | wearing out a wretched existence in our dwell- | ings on Fifth avenue. We seek to meet your views, but the terrible power of labor makes our task very hard. We try to be patient in our spacious mansions, we strive to thank heaven for even terrapin and canvas-backs, but our lot is not easy to bear, and the un- feeling tyranny of the laboring classes—grind- ing the faces of the rich—makes us regret the day our ancestors came to this country.” “ Faix I” said the man of power, “ your an- cisthers kem over a throifle too soon. Last come, first sarved. Thim that kem first must place !”” “Then, kind sir,” answered the trembling millionaire, ‘‘ where do the Chinese come in ? They are later than the excellent gentlemen from Cork, the elegant nobles from Hungary and Bohemia—even later than the glorious patricians from Italy. Are the Chinese to dominate because they began to flock to our stand back an’ give the last arroived the top | unhappy land later than our other foreign masters? Not that it matters to us—we, | alas! are slaves to all.” “ Yous Amerikins is the lowest bastes iver I saw,” growled the proud Knight of Industry. “« How dar ye talk of Chinayse! Didn't we ordher them out ov the counthry? Phwat right have they to come bechune us an’ our worruk? They ‘ve no arrganizashun—no pol- lytickle inflooence. Did iver ye see a bastely Mongolian leper an Aldherman, or arum-mill kaper, or even an agitathor or a sthriker ? They have no inergy, no religion, no ram— only jist worruk all day for wages and go to slape quoitly o’ night—savin’ money and doin’ | phwat they ‘re paid for. Wud ye be ruled be the loikes ovthim? Ah! ye ‘re a lowlot, yous | Amerikins wid money! I don’t know what use can be made of yez, exceptin’, mebbe, to pay taxes an’ to vote forus. Ye have a grate | dale o' money and ye talk a grate deal; but, | begorra, yez have n't the power of arrganiza- shun—ye 're always quarr'lin’ wid ache other comicbooks.com