Life — June 30, 1887 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

- LIFE: A FOURTH OF JULY EPISODE. Ma! Ma! here a great big roo- chee swallering up my fire-crack- ers fast as I throw them down. Booh! oh! ooh! Ma! Ma! I wantsanother roochee ! PROFITABLE WY. HERE was a young man of N. Y., Who ate his ice-cream with a fy., He went to Ia., Invented a ma., And made a large fortune in py. HE gambling in coffee has been so deep and continudus that proper people have had to discontinue its use. A deacon in Dr. Hall's church is on record with the assertion that after two cups of Rio he is irresistibly impelled to go out and buy pools on a horse-race, which shows how evil asso- ciation can corrupt a good brown berry. ExpefMfhents are in a forward state among some of the grocers to learn if the contagion has extended to chicory. A (K)NIGHT OF LABOR. (ERATOR: Madame, you can place two more words | in this message for the same price. MADAME: Aah, now! yew don’t sayh! how they was, and that we're wishin’ to say thim, and bring Mary and the twins.” A SEASONABLE STUDY IN EVOLUTION. Well, till thim | THE ELEPHANT AND THE MONKEY. N elephant who was feeling very lively after his midday meal began to caper around in the sunshine, roll over on the grass, and have a good time generally. A monkey who was laid up with the colic, and dared not stir from his home in the tree-top, observed the elephant’s frolic, and with a sour grimace exclaimed : “Tt is a pity that any one of your standing in the com- | munity should make himself so ridiculous.” “What !” cried the elephant in amazement, “do you sup- | pose the whole world must go into mourning because green cocoa-nut don’t agree with you? A few such fellows as you can destroy the peace of the whole settlement. Get back into your hole, and let me alone.” It is believed that this monkey was the inventor of the law divorcing music and beer. Hanson. ENNYSON is eighty years old, and can get up at six o'clock in the morning and chop out two poems before breakfast. THE PHILOSOPHY OF THOMAS HORNER. S swiftly from the corner, groaning, he emergéd, With crumbs and sanguinary stains on face and biblet, His diminutive form a-turning, a-squirming, a-writhing, His features distorted by diaphragmatic Pains—sadly distorted, but not beyond recognition— He cried aloud—Thomas Horner, Jr., the pie-eater— Cried with a loud, long, lingering wail of suffering : “T feel ill, I cannot sit still ; But I won't bother the doctors for diagnosis, Nor prescriptions of medicinal correctives ; For, without the shadow of doubt, I’m a gone gosling, And their medicines would only annihilate The taste that remains on the tip of my palate— The taste of that vanished pie, so sweet, so delicious.” B. Zim. comicbooks.com