Life — April 14, 1887 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

“While there's Life there’s Hope.” No. 224. APRIL 14, 1887. 1155 Broapway, New York. Published every Thursday, $5 a year in advance, postage free. Single copies, 10 cents, Back numbers can be had by applying to this office. Vol. I., $1.50 per number ; Vol. II., 25 cents per number; Vols. III., IV., V., VI., VII. and VIII. at regular rates, Rejected contributions will be destroyed unless accompanied by a stamped and directed envelope. CRYING want is a proper greeting for Easter. LIFE has a cheerful young friend who turns out of an Eas- ter morning in a shiny hat and with a bunch of violets in his buttonhole, and meets his acquaintances with the announce- ment that “ The Lord has Risen!” It is certainly a word in season, and he puts so much sunshine and urbanity into it that he needs no other greeting. But all of us have not his talents. It is the common way to let the natural feelings break out in apparel and flowers, but elsewise to leave them unspoken. A Merry Christmas! A Happy New Year! are recognized cries; but no adjective has come down predis- | posed to be tacked on to Easter, and we fear it is idle to try to invent one. Easter is not the only sign of spring. Any- thing, meteorologically speaking, may come at this season on any day. The weather may start in Florida or in Montana; in either case it gets here in good preservation, and a straw is a burden or a heavy overcoat a luxury merely according to where the start is made. But from the South come indis- putable proofs that spring has set in. The sea-serpent has been seen off the coast of Southern California, and nine persons were poisoned in Memphis about a week ago by ice- cream. of. Ice-cream rages even in northern latitudes the year around, but the sort that tastes of the freezer and strikes in is summer ice-cream and no other. . . . HE Washington physician who spoke disparagingly of the health of the President is getting no thanks. His professional brethren talk of eliminating him from their ranks, and though they will hardly do that, it is likely that he will not prescribe for Mr. Cleveland again unless he is regularly called in. not yet advised by any failure of his energies that he is not good for another term. He is busy with the work in hand, and not disposed to disturb his mind about his chances of being his own successor. Which is fortunate, for if he should undertake to keep track of the “straws” collected by the These are the sort of swallows that spring is made | The President declares himself to be sound, and | esteemed morning journals of this town alone, he would have no leisure for the duties of his office. Scarcely anyone who deals in politics seems to take less thought about the future occupancy of the White House than its present tenant. . . . HE man who said “ murder will out" seems to have had no just conception of the obscurity of life in New Jersey. . . . R. BLAINE, who is on a Western trip this spring, took occasion to upbraid the citizens of St. Louis for that they never recognized or commemorated the services of Thomas Jefferson to their town. Mr. Blaine says, and we presume it is true, that Jefferson bought the land on which St. Louis stands from Napoleor I., and he thinks the Missouri people ought to have raised a monument to their purchaser long ago. It has long been considered good Republican doctrine that Jefferson was something between the Bob Ingersoll and the Carter Harrison of his day, and it looks as if Mr. Blaine’s historical studies had upset his political judg- ment when he talks of monuments to the chief bugaboo of his party. . . . HERE are rumors, by the way, that Carter Harrison's glory is departed, and that the City Hall in Chicago is | about to know him no more. Good-bye, Carter. Don’t hurry back. It will spare your feelings to be out of town when the Anarchists are hanged. . * . HE rumor of the loss of the Scy/héa that disturbed New York and Boston ten days ago, remains un- accounted for. It was a very curious rumor, and about | thirty Boston reporters, who rode most of the night in the cars and walked several miles through slush, are anxious to know who started it. . . . HE Kissane story reads as though it might be “con- tinued” in the next number of The Weekly Hair- vatser. The Eastern public is still uncertain whether the W. K. Rogers identified as Kissane is the same who was lately private secretary to Rutherford B. Hayes. They will want to know very definitely about this before the District Attorney quashes that indictment. . . . S there no way of getting rid of the Fifth Avenue bus? A greater nuisance was never allowed to travel unchained. The ability of the managers to economize seems absolutely without limit, and we expect soon to see the noisy nuisances shaking up and down the street, with one horse and an auto- matic self-paying driver. comicbooks.com