Life — November 25, 1886 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

A THANKSGIVING THRILL. ROUND the board The hungry horde Are congregated. The festive maid With sash and braid Is titivated. Papa, All smiles and smirk, he Carves the turkey. Mamma, In satin gloss, Doth pass the sauce, And all the child- Rens hearts are filled With thanks : The little girls are thankful because they think it good, The little boys are happy because of all the food ; Mamma’s all smiles with thankfulness because her last new bonnet Had five more birds of plumage rare a sitting up upon it, ‘Than any other hat in church upon that gladsome day. The maid is thankful just because her ribbons are so gay, And papa’s gladdest of the glad in all that gladsome fun, Because all appetites are fixed, and the carver’s work is done. * * * T= only thing the Wor/d's testimonial to M. Bartholdi lacked to make it complete was a sworn repoussé affi- davit that Mr. Pulitzer’s circulation is over a quarter of a million. M. Bartholdi will exhibit the freak at ten centimes a head when he gets back to France. * * * iA* old darkey on pension business in Washington claims to be the father of 165 children. He probably wants Congress to make him a state. * * * ye George Henry, the young lion is a welp. Oc- casionally you meet with a young society lion who is more or less of a puppy, but he is the exception that proves the rule. * * * M R. JAY JAY O'DONOHUE, who seems to be more or less smothered by the mantle of the late John Kelly, has been airing his views about Mr. Cleveland's policy. His general demeanor disproves the statement of one Jim Baker, made famous by Mark Twain, that ‘a Jay knows when he ’s an ass as well as anyone else, maybe better.” * * * ie begins to look as if Liberty would only enlighten the harbor in company with the sun. This is hard on the World. N exchange says there is nothing small about the Co/- umbus Herald. The election being over, it is frankly taking back its campaign lies. This is all right; the Hera/d may want to use them again some time. * * * BOSTON woman, by way of experiment, recently tied a pedometer to her chin, and discovered that she talked thirty-three miles between breakfast and lunch. * * * DAM and Eve, according to the Post, were born on Oc- tober 28, 4004 B. C. Ground was,'broken for the earth in the spring of 4003. * * * UFFALO BILL is to take his wild-west show abroad, The Indians evince much delight at the prospect of getting back to Ireland once more. * * * THE INTERCOLLEGIATE MUSS. Tis not likely that Ham/e¢ would have a chestnut bell rung on him if he should appear to-day and exclaim — as a travesty upon Shakespeare’s great tragedy, says he did exclaim: The world’s gone mad, curs'd fate that ever I, Was born to have a finger in the pie. If our statement needs proof, we have only to refer our readers to the tangle in which we find the venerable Doctor McCosh, Oliver Wendell Holmes, President Eliot, and certain other well-known men in the scholastic and literary world. Concerning the Harvard-Princeton trouble, we think Dr. McCosh was perfectly justified in shaking the dust of Cam- bridge from his feet when he did. Doctor Holmes’ hardly veil- ed allusion to Harvard's superiority over Princeton in the foot- ball field in view of Dr. McCosh’s knowledge that Princeton’s yellow-striped kickers were in fine trim and could lay out the red-backed rushers of Harvard cold, was little short of insult- ing braggadocio. If it had been decorous for the New Jersey president to offer the poet odds on the point he would have done so; but Dr. Holmes and President Eliot were in collu- sion, and Dr. McCosh being the recipient of no degree, was absolutely deprived of the opportunity to stand up on his venerable legs and take exception to the poet’s license. To finally settle the matter we trust that Columbia, or the College of the City of New York, will confer an A. B. upon Dr. McCosh and give him a chance to call Dr. Holmes’s attention to the fact that Where mighty Edwards stamped his iron heel, The great McCosh is bound to have his deal. And on the hill where old beliefs are taught, The latest score is fourteen points to naught, George W. Me. comicbooks.com