Puck — September 5, 1877 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

4 TELEPHONOGRAMS. FROM THE SEAT OF WAR. FROM PUCK'S SPECIAL ARTIST-CORRESPONDENT, LATEST THe Stru N THE BALKANS. Russian Camp, Shipka Pass. By particular request of the Czar and Sultan I've just been taking a drive through the Pass to sce how things really are. I send you a few sketches, illustrative of life in the respective camps. Corporal Broadgrinovitch of the ‘Train-Oil- off Fusilecrs on out-post duty, He smiles and, following the example of Hayes, offered me most cordially his hand to shake. inovitch will be observed enjoying really capital fare—tallow candle He relished it so much that he felt supremely happy, and broke out in the well known natio nal war song: “Awfullykoff Awfulovitch.”” Now, could I drink hot blood, do such deeds, eét., and swallow a ‘Turk, slippers, fez, and all just like this—said Broadgrinovitch—if he'd let me. I then made for the ‘Turkish Camp. Was of course received, but. not with open arms by Private Harem Scaremusa, who was sitting on a chilled shot to keep cool; he couldn't help glaring at me. By giving the leg of a tough chicken out of my haversack I propitiated him, and he looked jolly once more. He felt drowsy, and went to sleep with his mouth open, and dreamt “ of breaches, ambus- cadoes” eé., then his dogs barked and he thought the Russians were upon him, and he said: ~~ “ By the beard of the prophet, I'll swallow the first one that approaches, although he is an un- clean animal.” I didn’t wait to see him do it, but I took a sketch of the threatened proceeding. I dined with Suleiman Pasha in the evening. PUCK. EXPERIENCE TEACHES. Se ALAD wooed her, softly woued her, 4 All that glorious summer day, SP And with fowers of fancy strewed her Sweet and virtuous way; But my passionate advances, All my tender, Were unheeded, and nm 1 felt gliding 5 glances chances away, If my love were lent forever, Neer my heart could more rejoice, 1 T made one last ¢ To decide her choic + Lustrous maid, with eyes of ti Kindl ‘Teach me love and love's desire igher, Thrill me with thy wondrous v ow to draw the ne, then propitious beaming, Stirred her heart and loosed her to On her lips, half wa sagerly TF hung Would L coldly be refused And into my much She breathed low, Words of px ng—dreaming, co Imused car "ve got the blues, dea ls her fancy strung! * rch perplexer, of the soul, When man's h Seeks to speak i 1 his eloquence or learning Kring him nearer to his goal? an's love is strange and moody, Strange, too, are the whims she serve ‘Though man were most knowing, could he ‘Trace her nature's curves? Let me caution each beginner, Whether sage or saint or sinner, ‘That the only way to win her Isto wateh and woo—her nerves. y ROSENFELD, WHAT HE KNEW ABOUT CALIFORNIA, TAX ‘TOURIST recently arti i i TOU recently arrived from Cali- Jw fornia thus mentions the varied attrac- «<*" tions of that State: “Yes, it is a wonderful country—wonderful —wonderful! ‘Tarantulas big asa pullet’s eggs, black, hairy—legs all around them, to crawl over you at night. Big trees—enormous—cen- tipedes, every leg a sting, stinging while they crawl over you—fifty legs—make 5000 stings while they crawl over your leg. Enormous crops of grain—when they get "em--once in two or three years. Wind in San Francisco? Blows a gale every summer-day, from nine in the morning until four in the afternoon. Sand and desert? No. Grit, gravel, and pebble-stones; and as for sand alone—pure sand—it drifts four feet-deep over the pavements and covers lamp-posts. Yo Semite? Grand, sublime, and a half-dollar toll every 40 rods. Rattlesnakes? Long ones in the mountains, short ones on the plains—short and thick look like Bologna sausages, and lying by dozens about the pud- dies, Country parched and dry as a brickbat in summer—no sod—no grass—and hot? Cook an egg out of doors anywhere. Cool in San Francisco? Yes; too cool half the time for comfort—and fog every day, morning and night —fog thick, damp, nasty, and clammy. Scor- pions in the country—sting with their tails— feels like a yard of red-hot knitting-needle run through you—they get into your boots at night, and start you out of them on the double-quick in the morning. Yes, delightful country: so much that is new to sce, feel, and think about all the time—especially fecl. ‘here’s the yel- low-jacket, a cross between the wasp and bumble-bee—settles on the table while you're eating—bores holes in a beef-steak, and carries off half-an-ounce at a load, and stings like fury if interrupted. Stocks—mining stocks? Yes. People are frequently bitten by them awfully— half the cases are fatal. Such a variety of the works of Nature in California. Mosquitoes? Yes. Going by river to Stockton or Sacramento clouds on clouds of them. Verdure in the country? Yes. Poison-oak—touch it and your head swells to the size of a peck-measure, with pimples and the itch. Great country for put- ting a head on you, you know. Old Californian? Old miner and 'Forty-niner? Grand, noble, generous, large-hearted Western man? Yes. Always drinks when asked—lives much of the time in saloons—trowsers ten years old, tied about the waist with rope-yarn—hat no rim, not much crown—came round the Horn in *49, hasn't. washed himself since—lives in a cabin hard-by, 9x18, on salt pork and flour— gray shirt, never washed—can talk of nothing else but the ‘ounce a day he made in the winter of ’s0—splendid type of manhood—and smells like a distillery. Wonderful country—garden of the earth—everybody calling out for ‘Eastern capital’ to come and develop our mines. Dust on roads? Yes, much fine dust, red like pul- verized brickbats. Land of gold, and every- body ready to take your greenbacks. Live there? Yes—when I can’t live anywhere else— good place to send men when they die, to punish them for their sins.” Ausweys for the Aurious. Cuis.—We will not. Rociester.—Go to Halifax. Haseutt She will try to. J. Laturor i —We had rather communicate d with your friend, Poxy,—When you get to be a full schooner, try again with your paragraphs. Wittiam Litty.—Do you take us for the Ledger? Don’t come to us with your candy-pull questions. Luonatnie.—We 're not made of * bloomy moon- + and we fail to drop, as it were, to your poem. rectly shine, G.G. R.—Your great grandfather was no doubt a very respectable man, but would he had died before he married your charming grandmother. We have read your poem. Francts.—Oh, that we lived in the days of the rack, and were a lord of the manor and you our vassal, and you undertook to send us such a contribution as “"Dig- ging Potatoes”! Jacixto.—' we had hoped that ou still live? We had hoped—indeed ou had long since passed sweetly and quietly into the Summer Land, taking your poems with you. Why don’t you do it now, Jacinto?” ‘The angels would like to read those poems, and we could spare ‘em. Don't trouble yourself to stay here on our account, Jacinto. PeRKINS.—IF it were not for your wide-spread re- putation for veracity, we should never believe you were the author of the following verses. ‘There is a certain air of cacographic cussedness about them which is not at all characteristic of your dignified and graceful muse. What is the matter with the old girl? Eli, you haven't been betraying her confidence and teaching her to drink, his free-and-easy kicking up of her heels is highly discreditable to her and to ‘Try to calm her down with a strict course of G. W. Childs, A. M.: OWED TO FRANKLIN Immense gigantic Franklin, We reverential bow etl "We give the glory—praze, brtopt hates and key ul yet of liberty a Sew st to Hewat freedom aad press unchained— eto the statied Wo: yet not ded but quick In sting brass--the Expense image of thy anshunt self— Immortal Warnass of thece glorious Tins Wien honest worth dacs not eckape reward. comicbooks.com