Puck — May 1877 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

PUCK. MY CIGARETTE ‘OU may talk about your pipes If you please. There are poets chant of swipes, Limburg cheese, ‘Sauerkraut and various things: ‘To his taste each rhymester sings. And I carol of my pet Cigarette. You may puff up your cigar If you choose. But it savors of the bar, Tobacco juiée Squirted free on sanded floors; Your delight is manish, coarse. But there’s something about mine Feminine. If beside the pipe, your weed Is a she: E'en if this much I concede, It must be Like a buxom widow's bus, Somewhat too splendiferous. As a maiden's first coy kiss Seemeth this. Sometimes at its flavor sips, Daintily, Some sweet pair of laughing lips, On the sly. If half-through the fire go out, From the soft mouth in a pout You may take it, with the right To relight. . . . . Hallowed by the honeyed breath Sensuous sweet, (Sweet of such a draught thy death ‘Thus to meet!) Of the languid Spanish girl Round whose form thy faint wreaths curl, All her latticed chamber’s gloom ‘To perfume; And invested with a rare Naughty grace, From thy use by ladies tair In the face, But a shade too fast in style, Who in French boudoirs beguile Hours in smoking thee, my own; Not alone; And endeared in sorrow's hour To the heart, By thy strange consoling power, Soothing art, Hear me swear, on thine own fire, ‘Thou shalt sole my song inspire, Even till Death, at one fell bout, Put us out. DP. O'Hara. JONES JUNCTION JOURNALISM. HE editor of the Jones Junction Gazette has been made the victim of an outrage apparently unparalleled in atrocity since the days of Julius Cesar—who had the reputa- tion of being the boss bulldozer of his time. The last issue of our esteemed contemporary says: “The reason why we look up on William B. Russell as a carrion disgorgement of the turbid whirlpool of political filth, whom it were flattery to call Scum, is not only that we have had oc- casion to say so before, and that we wish to preserve unsullied our reputation for consis- tency, but that he has chosen to reply to our strictures upon his baseness in an entirely un- professional and anti-journalistic manner. The wretch who responds in private to the public criticism of an unbiased and _unterrified press, which must ever be the chief palladium of a nation’s liberty, forfeits all claim to con- sideration. On Thursday, the seventeenth of May, just as the sun was sinking behind the Western hills, William B. Russell entered our office, and there conducted himself in a manner which for das- tardly fiendishness has, we will venture to say, no example jin all the blood-stained records of crime and treachery. He rushed hastily, and with an assumption of anger, (although the brand of shame and self-abasement was plainly visible on his brow,) into the outer office; and without waiting to learn that we were out, as our office-boy would have told him, he pushed his way into our pri- vate sanctum, and confronted us from behind. We were sitting abstractedly dreaming of the happy home to which we were about to return as soon as our devil could find a piece of rope to tie up the office door, Fond visions of con- nubial bliss fleeted through our mind, and only gained an added touch of realism from the twist of his hand in our hair. It was, therefore, with entire surprise and a bosom unprepared for such perfidy, that we re- ceived the first intimation of his presence in the shape of a terrific blow directly under the left eye froma ponderous instrument. What the weapon was we do not positively know; but we judge it to have been the Bullock press from the Advertiser office, whose rascally editor un- doubtedly connived at and abetted this felon- ious and unmanly assault. But the day of retribution will come. Guilt may sleep for a while in peace, but vengeance in the end overtakes it. It is unnecessary to state that we resisted with herculean strength the attack of the prowl- ing assassin. ‘The tones of our stentorian voice must have been heard at leasta mile away; but the thunders of the combat so awed and para- lyzed the inhabitants of the vicinity that not one man stirred to our rescue. How long we struggled, or whether our foe still lives, we do not know. At an advanced | stage of the combat, mistaking the door-sill for our adversary, we dealt it a blow that would inevitably have been mortal had it hit him, | with the back of our head, and sank into un- consciousness on the ground made gory by our | carnage. We have reason, however, to believe that the outlaw sccompished his nefarious purpose, if the total wreck of a gold-headed cane, princi- pally on the small of our back—which was pre- sented to us as a testimonial of respect and es- teem by a select committee of our fellow-citi- zens when we were in the fancy-goods business in Memphis, ‘fenn.—is any evidence of his fur- | ther acts of turpidity. | But his time has come. Azrael already | spreads his funereal wings above the fated man, and when the grinning minions of Death shall have dragged fim down to the bottomless pit | reserved for unspeakable corruption, first of , high upon the seething scroll of black- | hearted infamy, the Recording Angel shall point | with unerring finger to the name of William B. Russell.” PUCK’S PERSONAL INTELLIGENCE. BY OUR OWN HERALD. Cronin is so-so. Morton is so-sore. | Garfield has finger-nails. |. Grins are occasionally grun. | Smilesare taken as often as ever. Dana was not born in Heliopolis. Phil. Sheridan has got the twinsy. Goethe was never Rex of a Carnival. Secretary Evarts doesn’t chew gum. Jim Blaine is a relative of Gail Blamilton. Gen. Banks winks with the left eye—when he wants to. Swinburne, the poet, makes virtue rhyme* with hurt you. Horatio Seymour skinned cels for a living, in his infancy. ‘The only drink that you can get on a horse- car_is bell-punch. Goldsmith, of the Hera/d, writes English like a house-a-fire. ‘The rumor that Alexander H. Stephens has twins is unfounded. Baron Kraus von Pumpernickel is at the Mackerelville Hotel. When a donkey throws his rider, he very often sheds a muleteer. ‘The surest way to cure corns is to put your foot under a horse-car. If you have hot weather this summer, re- member we told you so. Charles Francis Adams will go fishing this summer, in a bob-tailed under-shirt. ail When you see a boy squirting water with a hose, take the hose away from him. It isn’t safe for a man to experiment with insect-powder on his wife's canary-bird, Geo. Edgar Montgommery spells, his name with two m’s, He is going to cut a dash in the world—a two-em dash, ‘A heart bowed down by weight of woe isn’t half so bad asa head under a spout while the barber is shampooing it. It’s all well enough to chew a wooden tooth- pick in front of Delmonico’s; but when you swallow the tooth-pick, it ceases to be funny. | SUMMER RESORT JOTTINGS. 2» tf JUCK deems it his duty to post his read- OLS ers on the question of summer resorts, & and has made arrangements to signalize the current of fashionable migration during the season, for the especial behoof of his friends. N.B. (to hotel keepers.) No puffs admitted to stamps written on one side of the paper only. ‘rue Sublime Porte, after all, is Newport. CLAMBAKES will predominate at Ocean Grove. | Gowanvs has laid in a fresh supply of skim milk. Cape May will not remove inland, as_re- | ported. x sell LonG Brancu will stay just where it is until | further notice. Wuitesroxe, L. 1., has grown up with won- derful rapidity. “It has already a lager-beer brewery and a railroad ring. BERGEN Point has engaged a largeand com- petent corps of mosquitoes for this season; and will offer weighty claims to public patronage. ‘Tue Pigeon Cove House, Cape Ann, has the endorsement of George, the Count Joannes, without which who would go to Pigeon Cove? Nuacara will be especially attractive during the coming season. A fresh supply of hackmen has been laid in; and it is confidently hoped that’suicides will be proportionately numerous. | Coney Istanp will, as ever, continue to be | the resort of the conservative Knickerbocker | clement of our metropolitan aristocracy. No | matter who owns the land. It’s the water that attracts. SaRaToGA will be ornamented this year by the presence of the beauteous John Morrissey, and the New York gilded youth may wear some of his gilding off in John’s palatial halls, with as much facility as ever. this column unless accompanied by postage- | | comicbooks.com