Puck — April 30, 1879 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

[See cartoon on centre pages.] aor very many years certain self-con- & stituted “reformers” have been taking care of the health, manners and morals of their neighbors, and denouncing everybody who dared to disagree with them in language compared to which the outpourings of Capt. Williams's wrath may be considered as the gentle zephyr. ; ‘These “reformers” have sailed out into the sea of begotry under many names; they have been called “Washingtonians,” “Neal Dow- ites,” “Leaguers,” “Crusaders,” and recently “Blue Ribbon Men.” ‘Their one idea was that any man who sold liquor should be hanged; and that no man, whatever his physical needs, should taste liquor under any circumstances. That is, that a certain moral and physical measure should be made for all the sons of men, and if they did not fit it naturally they should be made to fit it. They had their patent medicine of Prohibition, which, like other patent medicines, was to cure the disease with- out any diagnosis of the case: asort of catarrh cure which never inquired whether the trouble was catarrh of the nostrils, throat, bronchial tubes, lungs or stomach. They laid down Prohibition as a law, and because it suited them, it must, willy-nilly, suit everybody else. ‘The result of which has been that during the past twenty years, at least, the manufacture, importation and sale of intoxi- cating drinks in this country have been steadily on the increase, until some thoughtful people have trembled lest we should degenerate into a notion of drunkards; and Rum, not Politics, burst this distracted Republic. Some of these thoughtful people reflected upon the matter, and felt that a great moral movement was not fitly carried on by a crowd of fanatical females, with their sisters, etc., kneeling before a gin-mill, howling hymns, to the great delight of the ubiquitous small-boy: nor by an Ex-Jail-bird tying pieces of blue ribbon in the male button-hole at a salary of $250 per week and his hotel-board. Nor did they believe that the closing of all the front dvors of saloons and opening all the side doors thereof on the “Lord’s Day,” tended toward keeping the Sabbath holy. But they did think that if men were reasoned with as men, and not as “terrible examples’; if the smart busi- ness man or the shrewd lawyer was told they were drinking too much for his health—and his pockets, ¢hen the evil might be checked, kept within bounds, until in the next genera- tion it might commence to disappear entirely. Hence this late “‘ moderate drinking " move- ment, wherein those who could never be touched by the professional ‘“‘femperance”’ shrieker pledge themselves not to treat or be treated, and not to drink during business hours. Surely this is a great thing accomplished. But isn’t it a little rough on our dearly be- loved brethren who practice behind the bar? If Tom ‘Tamper mounted a blue ribbon and withdrew his custom from the hotel of Pat McGinnis, Pat smiled the comfortable smile of confident anticipation, for he knew, in his heart, that Tom would come. back, after many days, and during a week's spree make up for lost time. But when Tom joins the moderation movement, and comes in of an evening, takes and drinks his own particular drink, and abideth Not to chat with the boys, to treat or be treated, then the heart of McGinnis sinketh, and he counted his cash at closing hour, with a groan at the small amount thereof. And when the swing-doors of the down-town “Sample” room do not bang as regularly as the big clock ticks off the seconds of ‘I'ime, then the be-diamonded Proprietor says he'll be deed if he wouldn’t rather have a thousand Francis Murphy’s set loose than one of these moderate drinking movements. Hard as are the lines into which the saloon- keeper seems to have fallen, there is a crushing blow yet in store for him, which Puck feels in duty bound to administer. Drs. Crosby, Cooper, LL.D., ete., seem to have forgotten it. It is the pledge against the early morning cock-tail. In mercy to the American stomach, in honor of the American breakfast, let us stop the matu- tinal cock-tail. If we must take eur lone drink before business hours, let us take it straight, without “bitters,” and after our coffee and muffin and omelette and salad are nestling snugly in our respective Stomachs, ready to receive the cocktail aforesaid and pull the sting out of it. But what will poor rum-seller do then ? INTERNATIONAL RACING. [See cartoon on first page.) We did—there is no use denying it—we did feel a little sore when O'Leary, instead of peg- ging away for the Astley belt, incontinently pegged out and left the belt aforesaid to Rowell and the glorification of John Bull. But now we can crow; the eagle and the whangdoodle (bird unknown to Audubon) can flap their wings and scream; for our American horse Parole has won three races from Mr. Bull. He has put his foot in the British pocket and ex- tracted therefrom many thousands of pounds; and the British lion feels very much like a British ass when he remembers that he wagered 4oto 1 against a horse that had the record which Parole made in this country. But there is a deeper significance in this than appears on the service. ‘There is a sporting ri- valry between this country and England, and we have always claimed the supremacy. We have tried in many ways to show the little is- land her inferiority. We sent over a yacht (the America) and she beat all England, hen we sent a man (Heenan) who certainly walloped her best man, Sayers. Then we sent a boat with half a dozen men, and Columbia won the honors of the English river. ‘Then, next we sent a man to walk against all England, and O'Leary brought home to us the champion’s belt. ‘This aroused all the energies of all England; the entire land was scoured to find a Man to whip America at our own game; little Rowell was discovered, sent over here, and he did the job. } But this was too much for Yankecland. Of course we had hundreds of human steam-engines who could go as they pleased at the rate of 800 or 1000 miles in six days; but a more humi- liating defeat was deemed necessary to utterly crush ‘aughty Halbion; something noble, yet inferior to a man, So Parole was summoned to the front and thoroughly flabbergasted Great Britain, not once—not twice—but thrice in three successive efforts, It took a little Man, with all sorts of legs, running legs, walking legs, cast-iron legs to beat America: America can and has settled England’s hash with only a horse. . It has long been a slur cast upon Americans that we haven’t any beer in this country, be- cause “they arn’t got the ‘ops, ye know!” We now retaliate, Our British cousin has no racers —they h’ain’t got the hops, you know. When they get a horse that can hop and skip over the turf like our American horses—then we'll send over a still inferior animal to knock the stuffing out of J. B. We'll send over a Mule, and even back him against an English Man, 115 PUCK’S PANTHEON. Vi. Tue Curcep Concressionat Cassar. We apologize to Senator Conkling for the long delay in presenting his portrait to the ad- miring gaze of the millions of his lovers. We use the last word in its Shakespearian signification. The heroes, such as Butler and Burnside, who have already graced our collection of im- mortals, are all well enough in their way. ‘They had something to recommend them in the mat- ter of beauty and intellect, or they wouldn't have been there; but Conkling, the Senatorial Apollo, rears his lofty head, surmounted by perpetual ambrosial curls, above ordinary public speci- men of humanity like what-d'ye-call-em amongst the minnows—the joke is a trite un— and Puck feels for once really unable to do justice to the subject. The great New York Senator can give Blaine points in pose, and double discount Bayard in courtesy, There is no foreman worthy of his steel in the whole Senate, When Burnside, the beautiful, attempted to measure swords with our glorious Apollo in a Senate committee room, everybody knows what followed, and that Senator Burnside owes the preservation of those luxuriant whiskers of his entirely to Senator Conkling’s magnanimity, who didn’t bring into play his reserve thun- derbolts, Many admirers of our hero had reluctantly formed an opinion that he had drifted into wishy-washy Democracy, and was but a weak-kneed Republican; but such ideas have entirely been dispelled by the ultra-magnificent oration delivered amidst all the grace and beauty of Washington, on the question of em- ploying troops at the polls. Senator Conkling’s methods are strictly histrionic. He always acts best with a full house, when thousands are hanging on his words. His mirror tells him he is fair to look upon; his barber gives him the private information that his locks are of so fine a texture that they make the silk-worm blush with envy when it thinks about them. His honied words are as pearls which are thrown, in his opinion—the proverb is some- what musty. Yet, withal, and it pains us so to say, Sena- tor Conkling is not happy. One would think that except being President of the United States, he had reached the acme of his ambi- tion, the observed of all observers, the admired of all admirers; what more could mortal desire short of being in Heaven's Cabinet ? Ay, there's the rub, Senator Conkling is not President; and if our judgment in politics is worth anything, we don’t see any immediate prospect of his fulfilling the desires of his own heart, It is unfortunate that so monstrously great a man should not be able to take a little turn in the White House, but it arises from the inher- ent weakness of human nature, which is apt to neglect the mighty for the commonplace. Senator Conkling is, so far, the most won- derful and most practical statesman that Amer- icaand Custom House patronage has produced —Washington not excepted. Ir had to come! ‘“ Pinafore” and pedes- trianism! ‘The two popular crazes combined! A “snap” company from this city struck an Ohio village where there were already three performances of the same opera in full blast, the manager left in disgust, taking his pocket- book with him, and the troupe purpose walking the entire distance back, just to show the versa- tility of true genius, comicbooks.com