Puck — March 26, 1879 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

44 band, am organizing it. Helen?” “The what?” she asked quickly, trying to take him off his guard. “The ——,” he paused in time, and looked at her half angrily, half reproachfully. The enthusiasm of the man had been kindled as he spoke, and his imagination had almost betrayed him into forgetting his pledge. He turned to her sharply and said, “Go to bed. You must not wait up again. I shall be busier and busier and busier as the time for the Grand Stroke comes on. You must sit up no more.” In a reverie, and quite ignoring her: pre- sence, he continued—his one eye burning and fixed into space, the gaslight shining on the black glass over the vacant socket, and through the darkened glass a pool of livid shadow striking on his hollow cheek amid the scanty growth of grizzling hairs—‘* We have them all now, all we want—the Gas Stokers, the Horse- Drivers, the Postal Telegraph, the River Craft, the Wapping Seafarers, All! all!” He was not addressing his wife. He was un- der no delusion that he spoke to one of the meetings. He was simply reviewing for his personal gratification some fragment of his own creation and ordering. He continued: “I got them together. I brought them to see something was needed. Then I told them of the scheme I have had so long in my head. At first they were frightened and held back. But I worked on and spoke and spoke and spoke until they listened. And now it is going to be as I designed it. Do you hear that?” He brought down his hand with such vio- lence on the table that Mrs. Grame uttered a low cry of surprise. ‘Turning almost furiously upon her he shouted, ‘‘ Good heavens, woman, are you there still! Did I not tell you to go to bed?” She rose and crept from the room and went to bed in the dark. She lay thinking long be- fore she could sleep. While she lay awake she was afraid to cry, lest he might hear her sobs and come up; afraid to weep, lest when he came he might see her tears, At last she fell asleep; her reason no longer held back her tears, and they burst through her lids. And later still she sobbed in her sleep. He heard her, and came up softly and held a candle above her face, and listened and watched until he knew she slept. Then he blew out the candle, put it on the table, and throwing up his hands towards heaven whispered, through his set teeth, “My God! can I have let the secret slip? if so, all is lost!” Next morning his wife was stirring before he awoke. When he came down she looked care- worn and haggard. She moved about him with fear and a clinging solicitude. She watched every movement OF his as though he were a child waiking among sleeping snakes, At last when he was about to leave, he turned to her and said: “ Helen, I was talking aloud before I went up-stairs last night. It’s a foolish habit and a bad one. I was greatly excited and worn Did’ I then tell you what I am organiz- * ing?” “No,” in a faint, tremulous tone. “ Because I came up and found you sobbing in your sleep.” “Twas only frightened; I do not know what is going to happen, but I fear something dread- ful. Won't you keep out of it for my sake— for the sake of—” “ Hush! good morning, Helen; take care of yourself. I'll try and be in early to-night. Not a word of all this to any one, mind! rely on you to hold your tongue.” And he was gone. Do you hear that, (To be continued.) WHAT SHE KNOWS, Sue is sweeter than the clover Which the bee meanders over In the close. She really a sage is, And I don’t know what her age is, But she knows, She’s a resident of Flushing, And she’s equally as blushing Asa rose. That the lily is a flower And a bower is a bower Well she knows, Her foremost name is Clara, And she shades beneath her para- Sol her nose, And around her oft I hover For I love her, for I love her— This she knows. — MY. Star. Tuts is the walking year; the next will be leap year.—Camden Post. Goop news for goats—there is talk of hoop- skirts coming into style again. — Wheeling Leader. We have not heard as yet that the New York Herald has got out its war map of the interna- tional walk,—Derrick, Ir is now that the small boy forgives his fa- ther for not buying him a pair of skates last Christraas.—WV. ¥. Star. Mr. Cameron declares that he never dreamed of marrying the least part of her, much less Oliver.—Fhiladelphia Bulletin, ConcressionaL Roach powder was a most effectual vermin banisher, and the plague has subsidyd.— Baltimore Every Sat, Mr. Rowett plucked a fistful of feathers from the proud bird of freedom's tail. Are we to stand this ?—C/eveland Herald. Dip it ever occur to you coasters that the least sled the soonest mended? Excuse our inarticulate pronunciation.— Claude De Haven. A Funny Democrat called it “eating crow” the other day in a restaurant, while he was chewing the neck of a fried rooster.— Wheeling Leader, * ARCHBISHOP PURCELL never took much stock in the doctrine of infallibility,and his thorough and efficient failure shows that he was right— Chicago Tribune. Why is Henry Ward Beecher like H. M.S. Pinafore? Each is evidently a man-of-war- ship. No one ever heard this Punafore.— Cin- cinnati Commercial, Cot. Littteton struck a death-blow at the liver-pad business, when he issued his orders for fashionable dress at Ottawa.—O. P. Dildock in Toronto Gossiper. Tue Chinese encyclopedia, published at Pekin, contains over 50,000 names, and costs $7,500 per copy. ‘The religious weeklies of Pekin will not show much enterprise until they offer a copy of this book to each person send- *| ing two dollars for a’ year’s subscription.—Vor- ristown He lerald, THE MAD PUNSTER. BY EUGENE FIELD, A’cingle Barren loved aye made And woo'd her hart by Knight and Dey, Butt when knee begged she'd marry hymn The crewel bell responded acigh. Now at her feet inn vein he side ‘And tolled her of phiz offal pane— A lass, his mown touched not her sole— His ev'ry grown was awl in vane! “Owe, bee my bride, my deer, I pray, And here my size before eye dye— O caste me knot in scorn a weigh- — Yew are thee apple of my I!” She herd and new he truly spoke— He was of noble berth and bread Too lofty mean and hie renown— ‘The air to grate estates ’twas said. “ Ewe wood due bettor, sir,” she bald, “Two court sum mother girl I wean— Ewer not mice stile—aisle never share The thrown domestic, as your quean!” “Tis dun, O fare but Scilly won, Isle waist no father size on the!" Off to the nearest port he flue And through himself into the see. —St, Louis Timse-Journat. Lapigs wear gentlemen's scarf-pins as well as their collars, coats, vests and ——, but no! only a few married women wear the —— ahem!— Buffalo Every Saturday. Eur Perkins will lecture in Fort Plain this evening. ‘I'his announcement is made suffi- ciently early to have the citizens leave the vil- lage this afternoon for a day or two.— Albany . Argus. Mapteson and Her Majesty’s Opera Com- pany will sail for ‘ome on the sth of April. Her Majesty has fitted up fine accommodations for them in the barn chamber at Windsor.— Boston Post. ‘Tuere was never but one shirt-maker in this country who understood how a button-hole should be placed ina collar, and he died be- fore he could teach any one of the others,— Detroit Free Fress. Kino Cetywayo is the Senator Davis of Zu- luland. He hasn't seen his own feet for seve- ral years.—WV. Y. Com. Adv. He will perhaps get a giimpse at them soon, as his toes turn gertly upward toward the daisies.— Phila. Bulletin. AETER you have related a rich joke to a friend, and you expect to hear him burst out into uproarious laughter, nothing is more cal- culated to convince you of the correctness of the Darwinian theory than to have him stare and blandly inquire, ‘‘ What's the point ?”— Rome Sentinel, Miss Cary will sing at McVicker’s Theatre this week: No ne ver V'ot n’e ver Ah! d'li e ver, This is the Italian version of the “ Pinafore.” —Detroit Free Press. Tuo’ little Walter was forbade With certain tools to play, He got a chance, and took the hoe ‘And pruning-knife away; His waggish brother saw, and to His parent did complain, *O father! that Sir Walter Scott A-knife-an’-hoe again!” — Yonkers Gazette. comicbooks.com