Life — November 18, 1897 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

him, Say, he just dropped his pick, lowered his head, and came to meet me like a bull buffalo. From that time I have only a faint recollection of what happened until I found myself at the bot- tom of a precipice, with that fel- low standing against the sky-line yelling something that sounded like *Sis-boom-ah, Ya-a-a-le!'” “That explains it,” growled the mother; ‘‘ you had an interference with an ex-football player.” A Sudden Change. OW subtle are the reasons That sway a woman's mind; It varies like the seasons, Is fickle as the wind. For instance: once, when wheeling, Jack fell and hurt his knee, And Maud, with tender feeling,’ Shed tears of sympathy. But view her on the bleachers ; What ecstasy she shows To see Jack's bloody features And watch them break his nose! She screams with wildest pleasure When someone bites his ear, Enjoying without measure The best game of the year! She smiles to see him gory, And from her wooden throne She shouts when, all for glory, They break his collar-bone! 'Though blood and bruise can't stop her, She loves Jack just the same ; She thinks such carnage proper When in a football game ! Ellis Parker Butler, Hoot Awa, Hoot Awa! E have received a Maclaren Kalendar (Dodd, Mead & Company) for the coming year which dispels some illusions. Heretofore it has been thought that the sentiments from well-known authors which are printed in cal- endars in connection with each day of the year should have some sig- nificance. ». We have even been led to expect in Shakespeare calendars that some discrimination in the use of his sen- timents was eminently wise and de- sirable. With Ian Maclaren this is different. Every word he has written is so absorbing, and so pregnant with thought, that it makes no difference what is used. Here are some samples, taken at random from this delightful re- pository of Hoot Mon ism: A've been sure ye were ifelchin’ yir battle. I was a tramp myself once. Ye'll no want a hame, here, . There's naebody tae be lookin’ oot for me. Ma hert's desire is to see George a minister. Was a beadle ever a baby ? A’ luv her still. You's a richt mon. The hooting of an ow! made him start. He was already in the depths. For the first time in his life Domsie whistled. You're not away yet, Burnbrae. I'll read it till I die. He turned aside to study a hydrangea. A’m on gaird masel’, She lookit at me, and a’ lookit at her. We've had a gude lang day. A’hoddit the flooer, an’ a’ hev it tae this day. A fery nice speaker, and well pleased with himself. Football Fatalities. HE annual anxiety to save some of the football players alive prevails again this fall. In Georgia, where, sad to say, a boy was killed in a football game the other day, it is reported that the Legislature has prohibited the game. Such a remedy is worse than the disease. The enforcement of present laws ought to make football safe. The next time a player is killed try some one for manslaughter! Arrest all the accessories, players, referees, umpires, and college presi- dents if necessary, and lock them up over night or make them furnish bail. If it is made sufficiently disagreeable to kill football players the evil will diminish. Lock up the man who does the mischief. Make players responsible for their conduct, and they will either take care or quit the game. IRST ACTOR: The people of Toughtown have a hard reputa- tion. Seconp Acror: Very. I hear that this year eggs are to be sold at the ticket office to accommodate the patrons of the theatre. RETTY INGENUE (to golf hero): How lovely it would seem to be a strong, clever man! G. H.: Oh, but— Miss Jeanne, I'd rather be a dainty, pretty girl. Wouldn't you ? comicbooks.com