Life — December 15, 1887 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

FOOLISH RHYMES FOR YULISH TIMES. Cabled to Lire. by Mother Goose. 1 OW the thermometer slowly recedeth, 4 And the pneumonia swiftly proceedeth ; Man wears his overcoat on the hat-rack, “Twill take an eternity to get the man back. Me Mamma goes around the shops, papa goes to biz: And ‘mongst the bills that papa pays, papa’s present is ut. Hear the merry merchant's cry, “ Ho, the pretty ladies Come to see and not to buy! Doesn't it beat Hades?" UR esteemed contemporary, Mr. P. T. Barnum, always was a lucky man. He found three dollars in the stomach of one of his re- cently-destroyed elephants. . . . PROPOS of Aldermen, when Mr. Atkinson buys Canada, he should add $100,000 to the purchase-money for the ex-legislators who have flitted over the border. . . . NGLISH eulogists of American deceased come high, but it seems that we must have them. The terms of an eminent divine, now in this country, are said to be as follows: Simple exposition of deceased's career, with an appropriate moral deduced therefrom, Laudatory sermon, exhorting the hearers to follow in the foot- steps of deceased, accompa- nied by tears, Fs 4 : All-wool-and-yard-wide praise, with complete dissolution of speaker in grief for the de- parted, with tearing of hair, rending of garments and other accessories, as desired, . £300-500 £150 WESTERN Anarchist on hearing that man is 90 per cent. water, went into his room and blew his brains out. He could not stand the disgrace. CAUGHT ONE AIR. Jack: WELL, OLD MAN, HOW DID YoU LIke “Trista AND ISOLDE?” Unmusical Party: Uout Gor THAT IN THE BACK OF MY NECK, AND IT'S THERE YET. W HEN the Word is not sneering at the Suz's circula- tion, or bragging about its own, it is generally found waging a war of extermination on the expression “lady- friend.” We were surprised, therefore, to note the following in a recent issue of our contemporary: Mrs. Cleveland was accompanied by a lady-friend and her maid. ‘The lady-friend rose as if to leap from the carriage, and the maid screamed hysterically. Consistency is a jewel, Mr. Pulitzer, and we think, perhaps, the Sun is right and you had better move on. . . * OST men who have gone through the vicissitudes VI which have fallen to the lot of Jacob Sharp would hardly care to add to their trials. But there is no accounting for tastes. A man who would buy an alderman for twenty thousand dollars, when he could get a good dog for ten, isn’t governed by the ordinary rules of life. . . . WESTERN man named Pettis swallowed his false teeth, last week, and can't lie down without biting himself internally. . . ° AY GOULD'S autograph brought £100 in London last week. . It was at the end of a cheque for $500. . . . BY PROXY. 6¢ JOHN,” said Deacon Smithus, after vainly endeavoring to put a letter into an envelope two sizes too small, ‘is there a Dictionary of Pro- fanity in this house?" “Yes, sir,” replied John. “Very well, then,” said the Deacon, “go out behind the barn and read it aloud, from beginning to end, as forci- bly as you know how, and charge it up to my account.” . . . HERE is a man in a Westchester County lunatic asylum who wants to know which wrote Shakespeare, Liver or Bacon. R. HOWELLS has one of his uproariously funereal farces in Harper's Magazine, It is called Five o’Clock Tea, and is suspected of being (t) 00-long.—P-ach. No Goop, ONLY comicbooks.com