Life — March 18, 1897 — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

AT SEGORS AT NLL A BALLADE OF BYGONES. Into what dim, unlettered night Do our romantic idols stray ? Whither has Trilby taken flight, And where does Ben Hur's chariot sway? The Little Minister is gray, No more does Robert Elsmere pose; Where do the favorites delay ? Nay, where is yestermorning’s rose ? Forgotten is the Manxman’s might; And what of Tess do bookmen say ? The Prisoner of Zenda's plight 1s one with Fauntleroy's at play. Mulvaney, Otheris. Where are they ? On Sherlock Holmes the shadows close; Why do their memories decay ? Ah, where is yestermorning’s rose ? They walked Romance’s flowery height, Nor Howell's self could them dismay ; Made all of sweetness and of light, For which Philistines loved to pay Now each his unlamented way To libraried oblivion goes, And on their tombs we toss a spray Of yestermorning’s faded rose. IN a Boston suburb, a priest of one of the churches announced that a collection would be taken up to defray the cost of coal for heating the church. Everybody contributed but Tim—, who gave a sly wink as the plate was presented to him, but nothing else. The priest noticed Tim's dereliction, but surmised that he might have left his money at home. A similar contribution was levied the following Sunday. As before, everyone gave except Tim, who looked sly. ‘The priest wondered, and after service took his parishoner to tash “Now, Tim,” he said thing, if it was but little “Faith, I'm onto yez !" “Tim! “Yes, father.” “What do you mean ?” “Oh, nothing. Just that I'm onto yez; that’s all.” “Tim, your words are disrespectful and require an explanation. What do you mean 2" “Oh, faith, father, a-thrying to pull the wool over thrying to make us believe yez wants the to buy coal to heat the church, an’ yer riverence knows it’s heated by steam !"—Exchange. “why didn't you give some- said Tim. A SERGEANT of a company of British infantry quar- tered in a Dacoit-infested part of Burmah a few years ago HARPER AND BROTHE! [he Voyage of the Rattletrap. By Hayden Cars The Green Room. By Maurus Jokai. Translates by Mrs. Waugh. Literary Landmarks of Rome. By Hutton. The Descendant. Book and Heart. ginson, v YORK, Laurence By Thomas Wentworth Hy America and the Sons: New York. Americans, Charles Scribsers time has come.” ‘* No,” replied the sergeant: “ta you see, | may happen to come across a Dacoit last day has come.""—Argonaut, whoe A WELL-KNOWN judge, noted for his tende plain things to his juries, expressed in a recent ¢ own ideas with such force that he was surprised jurors thought of leaving the box. hey did leave however, and were out hours. Inquiring the the judge was told one of the twelve was st against the eleven. He summoned the jury and rebzke, the recalcitrant sharply. Your honor,” said th y I say a word?” ‘Yes, sir," said the inc ; “what have you to say 2” * Well, what I 9 to say is, I'm the only fellow that's on yours: ENVOY, Prints, 'twas not yours the fate to stay With all the art the era knows, For fame in this decadent day Is but as yestermorning’s rose. ward A, Church, in The Bookman. wasa firm believer in destiny. One evening, when dress- preparatory to taking a stroll in the jungle, he was noticed by a corporal, a persistent opponent of the destiny theory, to slip a revolver into his pocket. ‘ Hello!” shouted the corporal, ** what are you taking the revolver with you for? ‘That won't save you if your wd ONDER if talents * Of course not Adam could have had an Poets are born, not made.” —Indianapolis Jou FUROrZan AGuNTS—Mesara, Brentano, $7 Avenue de l'Opera, Paris; Saarbach's News Exchange, 1 Clarastrane, May Germany, Agents for Germany, Austria and Swi For sale by all Newadealers in Great Britain. 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SFOODARD' ILLUS: S Watixers every new musi TRATED LES