Life — January 14, 1897 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

UU HAHN TRIUMPHAL ENTRY OF DONALD MACSLUSHEY INTO THE CITY OF BOSTON. A TOAST. ERE'’S to the man who loses — If his loss be another's gain; For bad luck sharpens ambition, And success, after striving, heals pain. Here's to the balm that’s a blessing, To the lover whose love has grown cool, To the maid who regrets her decision, To the other man—he was a fool. Here's to the whirl of Life's wheel, Which spun out the fates of all three; To the fool who won, the lover who lost — To him, and to you, and to me. Gypsie. DONALD MACSLUSHEY IN BOSTON. THE ATHENS OF AMERICA HAS YIELDED TO THE POPULAR ENTHUSIASM, ONALD MACSLUSHEY | is there, and ever since his ar- the Hub, including the adjacent country, has abandoned its usual occupations and thrown itself at the feet of Donald. Even the whist tables are deserted, temporarily, and it is estimated by conservative experts that over two hundred thousand Bostonians are drunk with dialect. Thousands of volumes of Emerson have been burned upon the Common, as the most thorough and impartial search among the utterances of this former idol have failed to reveal a single sentence of Scottish dialect. Mr. MacSlushey’s lecture at Music Hall was a marvel of eloquence. His subject, he All-Round Superior- ity of Scotland,” electrified the big- gest audience of modern times. In the course of his remarks he said: “And why is Scotland so far ahead of all the rest of Christendom? She has never produced a great painter, sculptor or musician. Her climate is cold and damp, while the salient fea- tures of her national costume are a scanty skirt and naked knees. Her music is the bagpipe! Her language, if you can call it such, is the harsh- est that ever shattered the tympanum of man. Yet why, why, altho’ Amer- ica, for instance, is swamped beneath a tidal wave of Scotch—of Scotch author: ‘otch literature and dialect —why is it, I ask, that we never tire of it?” At this point a voice from the rear of the hall answered : “But we do.” The words were no sooner uttered, however, than furious women threw themselves upon the brute and tore him into fragments. MacSlushey Clubs are forming throughout the city, and six evenings a week are given to discussion of his works. Trinity Church, the Public Library comicbooks.com