Puck — July 17, 1878 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

4 PUCK. THE LAMENT OF A POOR POET. WeN Fame beckons, heroes greet her, But the poet oft is bard, And must on the common metre, Or in someone else’s yard. At the gay soirees and parties, In the mazes of the dance, ‘The poor poet 1s neglected, And he never stanza chance. When the politicians glory In the enemy's decrease, The poor poets never enter For their little drama piece! But they wander, lone, forsaken, Feared by many, shunned by all, And their lines in pleasant places Never yet were known to fall. When at last their Ode to Nature Is repaid, they sink to rest, While the mourners say their poems Were Iambic an’ apest! J. F. Browne, ON THE BRINY. My dear Puck: Your instructions are obeyed. I am on the sea, and on my way to Paris, Ata moment's notice I packed up and made ready, doubting whether a sea-voyage were altogether the best thing in my present impaired health, but feel- ing honored by your choice of me as the one writer who would do justice to Europe, and Paris, and the exhibition, and the other things too numerous to mention —the which | therefore omit. I feel proud that you chose me for this laborious task. I acknowledge, too, that the reason of your choice is flattering.‘ Perkins,” said you, ‘‘do you know where Paris is?” And when I replied that I could not tell a lie, and therefore confessed my belief that it lay somewhere around the Jarding Mabeel, you ordered me to go and find it and report on it truthfully, Now, veracity is my trademark! Look at my name, signed hereto!! Could a man with a name like that lie? Impossible! Lunpossible!! Doubly Impossible!!! (N.B.—Private to Editor of Puck. Please see that the compositor sets this up in three lines, “follow copy.” It makes a fat take, | know, but it swells my bill with slight exertion of my brain. I adapted the idea from the French of old Damas.) And now { am launched upon the rolling deep —it isn’t very dee yet, for the pilot hasn't gone ashore, and it doesn’: roll much, [ am glad tosay. Not that I fearsea-sickness. Oh, no. Far from it. I have a specific. When you, Mr. Eslitor, kindly came down to see me off this Wednesday, you pressed into my hand a copy of Puck, three hours before publication. ‘Tat is my specific! Puck! No tellow can laugh and be sea-sick at the same time! (Patent applied for. All rights reserved.] So, you see, [ do not fear the demon of the deep -the foul fiend which delights in dis- locating the interior of the unwary passenger. I walk the deck bravely —that is, I was walking the deck bravely, but semehow it seeins a little as though the deck were walking around me, just now. And there are advantages in being on board ship when you are out of sight of land: You have no newspapers. [N. B to Editor of Puck: Would not this You have no news. be a good head-line: yee have no interviews. INTERVIEW WITH A FACETIOUS ()FFICER, ‘ou have no politics, You have no P. [. I think it would. Of course suggestions like You nave no weekly feuilletons. these from me are really editorial work, and You have no more reviews of ‘Fantasy and | must be remunerated accordingly.] Passion.” ‘The waves are rising rapidly. ‘They are You have no more of Mrs, Tilton’s patent | Very irregular in their movements. Tney are reversible confessions. not at all as well behaved as the waves you see You have no Count Joannes, at the theatre, going smoothly side by side (if You have no Uncle ‘Tom. they are profile waves), and tumbling about In fact, you may have all the cabin to your- | gently here and there (if they are boys under a self. sea-cloth), ‘The waves here, the waves off- You have no excursions, or shore, have no manners. They interrupt you Awful accidents, or in the middle of a moral reflection. Horrible holocausts, or They cause a great perturbation in my inte- Anything of that sort. nor. And who shall say’ that to be spared from | ‘They cause me also to make a solemn vow. these things is not a blessing? If I once set foot on shore, I will never go I for one will not say it. Indeed, just now | to sea again. a as I do not teel very mueh like saying anything, That is, [ will never return until Edison in- for the pilot has not left us, and the vessel seems | vents some way of sending a fellow over by to be behaving very strangely. It goes up, and | telephone or phonograph, or som.thing of that it sinks down, And when it goes up I keep | Sort. . still, but when it goes down it apparently takes | _[N. B. to Editor of Puck: I need not tell my digestive organs down with it. you how advantageous it would be for you to ‘And it’s no joke to have your digestive organs | have a permanent Paris correspondent, one on sink down into your boots. whom you could rely. Lama first rate hand But do not think Lam sick. Iam not, Far | at telegraphing war news. And I am sure you from it. Ido not even know what sea-sickness is, | Could work in a cartoon or two as a war-map. And besides I have my specific. In case you like the idea, we had better make And yet, the behavior of the ship is certainly | 29 arrangement by the year. 1 shoud prefer strange, and I begin to feel an annual salary to payment for space. Be- That long dash represents the rush of your | sides it would give me time for other things.] representative down-stairs to lunch, __ ‘The sea continues to rise—and so does my Eating is said to be a good thing on board | interior. ship. At least so the man next to me said. | Behold yon wave— , He looked as though he thought eating was a | — The time has come for my specific. good thing anywhere. 1 fear I am going to be sick. He had brought on board any quantity of | 1 take out my Puck. . private stores of all sorts. First the waiter | | No man can laugh and be sick at the same brought him private soup. ‘lhen he brought | time. him up some delicious asparagus. . ‘ ba * bd It was beginning to be a little rough, so I re- _ my fused to eatany asparagus. Somehow T didn't The specific is xo good. ' seem to care for food. I watched the owner t is true that no man can laugh and be sick of the private stores, and I watched the wait. | ** pre same time. ers. It is really remarcable to see how easily | Tadeed. sick esc ane augning. these stewards step around in the roughest wea | ape ig, ness Is NO ri ning-matter. ther, in the midst of the roaring wind and the | _ 2¢ SP°ChAE 1 RU hte “4 rushing waves, with their hands and arms full] y 3m 4n Situ Mretched man. of plates and dishes and so furth, and yet, how- am. sh am— ever great the motion, they never drop a thing * 3 * e ~save a casual H or so. 1. B. No. « i Diieic: i ‘The stout and sturdy owner of the private | ind idea of having the letters written 10 the afore folehed his asparagus. ‘Then the waiter | office just as the Hera/d does, was right after raea ar OP eed come Private | all. What need was there to send me here to Paitin Bec suffer like this? With a Buedeker and a Galig- ate de Rote (ras, nani, could we not have concocted letters much Champagne, more interesting and intellectual than those Cockers, which are cabled on Sunday to the Herald? geese Of course we could! rapes, Sea-sickness cannot be charged at column rates It is an extra.] And here the ship gave acudden and start.| NOmore,ohy nomore, | ling lurch, and the stout and sturdy owner of | material interior y the private stores made a hurried dive for the door, and brought up the rest of his dinner Tamever, without assistance from the steward. Yours emotionally, I go on deck again. The motion of the E, Perkins Munchausen, ocean is getting really unpleasaat, . = ——— [N. B. No. 2 to Editor of Puck: Just notice ~ this phrase —‘‘ [he motion of the ocean" —it’s Wuat consolation can you offer to the man poetry. I need not remind you that poetry | who promises his wife that he will sell, among ought to command more than column rates. | his business friends, a few tickets for a theatrical Please remember all these little things when | performance in aid of her pet benevolent insti- you remit me by cable the amount of my bill.) | tution, and who comes home at night with a In spite of the motion, I take awalk. [con-| vacant stare in his eye, and in his pockets verse with an officer who is facetious. He | twenty-five (25) cents in cash, and tickets for makes a joke. He tells me that the binnacle, | six strawberry festivals, four dramatic enter- the compass by which the course of the ship is | tainments, two barge excursions, three Sunday- held, is always lighted at night by stearin’ can- | school picnics, eight raffles, a clam-bake, and a dles. ; Moonlight hop ? * comicbooks.com