Life — December 3, 1903 — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

HOME (To the Faitor Washington, Sept Sept. 14 reports th rived from the P FROM THE PHILIPPINES. The Chicagy Chronicte) 15,—The New York Wott of army transport Kilpatrick ar- ippines, 340 officers and men of the United States Fifth Infa and twenty-six wo- men on her deck and 302 soldiers dead under the hatches. The voyage was a very merry one, for all bad agreed to dismiss sorrow the day they sailed for home. They stocked up with liquors at Singa- and indulged in a “Dutch dinner,” which would not bear repetition. There were two bands. They had suppers, dances, and balls, punctuated with varied revelry, and the last Thursday night got up a masquerade “which surpassed the fondest expectations of its promoters.” pore She dipped her flag to the farewell gun In the shade of the mango trees And turned her prow to the setting sun On the swell of the eastern seas, And faces pated as she westward drove In the light of the afterglow— Three hundred stalking the deck above And three hundred dead below. Now let's be merry!" the captain said, ‘We laugh at the skipper’s curse The living must live though the dead be ¢ So here's to the flouting hearse! And here's to the dying that huddle in crowds Where pestilent breezes blow, ad, And here's to the ghosts that grin in the shrouds, And here's to the boys below! “Of course we are sorry for those beneath— No mourners sadder than we— But say what right bas the tyrant Death To stifle the shouts of glee? Then bring forth beer and the Pommery sce Aud the tipple of ancient Crow, And drink to the fellows awake on deck And the fellows asleep below ‘They hear the brazen band rejoice As the veterans homeward come— And piccolo's pipe and cornet’s voice Mr jel ORS AT NvLLv And flute and fiddle and drum— They sing of treachery, torture, love, And plunder and raid and woe, And a wild shriek comes from the spars above, And a wail from the hold below. Now form quadrille!* is the merry call; ‘They sway as the prompter bids; “Now swing your partners—balance all!” Just over the coffin lids. The shrouded Hsten beneath their feet And whisper “A masquer’s show ! And groans from above the dancers greet And a laugh from the dead below. —W. A, Croffut. A FeMAaLe child approached me not long ago on the street. An air of refinement and good breeding attended her. I paused and pleasantly observed her. “Hello, grandpa! exclaimed the child. anybody seen our cat?" I made no reply. Speak up." said the child, “if you don't hap- pen to have amputated your voice. I've lost a kind of a tall cat, done off in a tortolse-shell finish. Her feet don’t track, but she's sound and kind, city broke, stands without hitching, and answers to the name of Laura Jean Libbey. Where Is she?” “Young woman,” said I, “I am not aware that I have the honor of your acquaintance,” “Don't let that cause you any insomnia, grand- pa.” said the female child. ‘I'm not trying to make a bit with you, her you've seen my cat or you haven't If you haven't, we'll part in a friendly way, with no clothes torn; if you have, I'd like you to produce, dig up, and relinquish the cat. Is ita go? Is there anything doing in the fellno way?” ‘0, said I. ‘Then, so long,” sald the female child. This, sir, I presume Is the result of our system of educational and home training, allowing children to develop along the lines of least resistance — Syracuse Post-Standard. “Has ATTORNEY-Genrnat, KNox was visiting bls new farm at Valley Forge, Pa. An old resident of the Lire 1s for sale by all Company, Bream's Batiding, ¢ quaint old village was showing bim the sights—the ruined mills, the Washington headquarters, the old cannon balls, the secret passage. Finally the villager led Mr. Knox down to the | old ford. He pointed out a large stone, and said: | “This stone, sir, marks the old ford. In the | old days the people judged the river's height by it | They did not venture to cross when it was sub- merged. We have a story about a blacksmith of the past to the effect tbat he once painted on the stone a warning to strangers. His warning read like this, sir: “"Take notice: When this stono ts out of sight it 1s unsafe to ford the river.’ "—New York Tribune. A ROUND OF PLEASURE. The Philanthropic Lady sat In the midst of the McFadden family, expostulating with them in a pained voice on the frequency with which they chased “the festive can’ around the corner to the nearest liquor saloon. “You ought to provide some kind of whole- some amusement for your family," safd the Philan- thropic Lady, sternly, to the abashed McFadden. “You should do something to lighten the burden of living. Every life needs a little sunshine in it.” “Oh, missus,” spoke up Miss McFadden, aged thirteen, eagerly, ‘we has plenty of fun. There's | always a fight or somethin’ entertainin’ goin’ on in the tinimint. Why, oney last week a gentleman cut a lady's throat and drug her past our door.”— incott’s Magazine. One afternoon during a lull in the bathing de- mands on a certain trans-Atlantic liner, George, the youth who had charge of the five bathrooms used the saloon passengers, decided to take a bath, so be locked himself in one of the rooms used by the me Suddenly he was disturbed by a rap at the door, an heard a woman's volce: “Honey! Honey! Are you there?” No reply coming from tho room, the lady spoke again. “Honey, are you there?" As an ex- planation was needed, George spoke: “Beg your pardon, lady, but this ain't no beeblve; this Is a bathroom.""—Argonaut ‘ewad alers in Great Britain, The International N hancery Lane, London, E.C., England, AGENTS. IF GENUINE WILSON WHISKEY, THE WILSON DISTILLING Co. Baltimore, Md. Always the Same! 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