Life — March 7, 1889 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

- LIFE MY WISH. ASTE, Cupid, to my lady fair, This softly to her speak : No Easter offering I care, Nor Christmas gift would seek. No New Year greeting can bring glee ; For only this I pine: ’Tis that ma delle will give to me Her heart for Valentine ! AOE. W. THE REASON. EACHER: Why is it you don't learn your Sunday-school les- sons as you do those on week days? BaD LitrLe ToMMIE: ’Cause you can’t lick a feller at Sunday-school. ] Ti is the dog watch whose bark is on the sea. TOMBSTONE SOCIETY. DOINGS OF THE GAY IN ARIZONA'S METROPOLIS. (Special Correspondence.) ILL HIGGINS, of Whackerville, is in town—the price of whisky has gone up ten cents a glass. Ir is rumored that Limpy Jake is engaged to an Apache half-breed. Shake, Jake! THE engagement between the beautiful Miss Mollie Simp- son and Mr, Ed. Johnson has been suddenly broken off. Ed. was lynched last night by vigilantes. . SHORTY FRENCH and Rose Jenkins were joined in the holy bonds of matrimony at the residence of the bride's father, at ten o'clock, last Tuesday evening. The ceremony was followed by a reception, at which the “zte of Tomb- stone society were present. The gifts were numerous and costly. It gives us pleasure to announce that Rose will continue to take in washing. Our polite circles will grieve to learn of the death of “Slim Charlie,” who has long been a favorite in fashionable society. One of the ranch boys caught him with a super- fluous ace up his sleeve last Sunday, and dropped him. We mourn our loss. THE “Olive Branch” Chapter of the “ Arizona Benevo- lent Association” held its monthly meeting at Murphy’s saloon last night. Only three members were killed, although several were badly knifed. It is thought that President Pete Riley will not live, as his skull was smashed in by a billiard cue, on account of a decision on a point of order. We always thought Pete's skull was thicker than that. The billiard cue was turned over to the sheriff. THE ball at the Skinner's, last Saturday evening, was one of the most brilliant affairs of the season. Dancing com- menced at eight o'clock, and continued until old man Skin- ner came out with a double-barreled shot-gun and swore he would kill the next man who broke through the floor. Many of the costumes were beautiful, many had never been worn before, and many, it is hoped, will never be worn again. The punch was excellent, and as the recipe is a favorite one, we give it for the benefit of our readers: Take five gallons of good whisky (any whisky will do, if you can’t get good), strain through a flour sieve, and drink with a tin cup. This recipe originated with old Skinner's grandfather, and has been in the family ever since. The entire affair was a marked success, and we join in the hope that it may be soon repeated. We may remark, en fassant, that the body of the commercial drummer who tried to wear a suit of full dress such as is worn in the effete East, to this affair, started back to St. Louis this morning. Tom Hall. “Ir 1 caw COUNT 'EM LAMPSH I’M ALL RIGHT, Le’ ME SHEE (counting) : ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FI’, SHIX, SHEVEN ; 'AT’S ALL. T'LL GO HOME, BUT I'LL BET TEN DOLLARS TO A SHENT 'AT MY WIFE 'LL SAY I'M DRUNK AGIN—JUSHT LIKE THE WIMMIN— WHERE’SH MY HAT?” EASILY REMEDIED. HICAGO HUSBAND (at dinner): warm, my dear? CHICAGO WIFE: I don’t wonder, my dear, you find the room warm, - sitting there with your coat on. Isn't the room very “LOSING H’S HEAD.” comicbooks.com