Life — December 8, 1887 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

322 “LIFE: ‘on some time, but you've been so deuced offish these few years back, got no chance to tell you about it. Comparisons are odorous, but de Gilbert—well, the fact is, de Gilbert,was a little domineering. Excuse short letter ; tell you all about it when we meet.” Samuel Grassletree was not an accomplished whistler, but he whistled on this occasion, Then he raised an arm against the clock in question, as if to do it injury. But, instead of that, he only took it from its modest place in his bedroom, and gave it boldly the most conspicuous position in his apartment. After that, he sat down and reflected on the divers characters of the persons who had heard him tell that story on Christmas Eve, and particularly on the positive traits of Miss de Gilbert, He began to think it was time he was taking another European tour. WRECKED BY FASHION. ENEVOLENT GENTLEMAN (bestowing a trifte): So you failed in business, my poor fellow. How was it? TRaMP: On account of the rise in shirt collars, sor. It left me bankrupt. BENEVOLENT GENTLEMAN: What? Were you in the furnishing-goods trade? TRAMP: No, sor; but whin the judes took to wearin’ col- lars three inches woide, me ould woman laid aside the wash- board and shut up shop. Now Oi depend on the mershies av the could, could wor-rld. IFFICULT as it is to discover Henry George's views on any other issue, there is no doubt about his atti- tude on the money question. He is for the Standard dollar every clip. RESIGNATION. E lingered, somewhat loth to go, When Phyllis rustled in and found us ; The quaint old tiles, the embers’ glow, A witch's spell had woven round us. Gaunt shadows fell athwart the walls, And wizard shapes danced up the chimney, As in dim-lit, ghost-haunted halls, Where phantoms flit and greet us grimly. In crumpled silk and sibyl-wise, One tiny foot upon the fender, I watched her raise her dreamy eyes, And fancied that her voice grew tender. The twilight deepened into gloom, I sought her gaze and grew confiding ; We two alone were in the room, Save Love, amid the rafters hiding. I slipped an arm around her waist, Her cheeks were poppy-red—I kissed her; But now she signs her note, ‘‘ in haste,” And writes, ‘* Dear Paul, I'll be your sister.” Some think ‘tis best to roam afar, Or bury love in ivied cloisters ; Not I—I'll light a fresh cigar, And order in champagne and oysters. Harold Van Santvoord, DIDN'T HELP HIM A BIT. “cs HY, Pat, for heaven's sake what's the matter?” Well, sorr, I swallied a pertater bug; and although, sorr, I took some Parrus Green widin five minutes after ter kill th’ baste, shtill he’s just raisin’ th’ divil inside oO me, sor.” ISS JONES: Are you fond of grapes, Mr. Sissy? MR. Sissy: Oh, mercy! I never eat them. They're so intoxicating, dontcherknow. AS between the dude and his cane at this writing, the cane seems to have a trifle the best of it in the mat- ter of head. THE ADVENTURES OF A PROHIBITIONIST. comicbooks.com