Puck — June 18, 1879 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

PM BETA ae PUCK. PINAFORE IN ITS SECOND CHILDHOOD. . & We promised we would Never say anything more about Pinafore. But it was a hardly ever Never. We wish to mention that it is dying a natural death in the Nursery, and that there is no new variety of performance to be looked for unless we have a Cemetery Pinafore, done with a full chorus of corpses, to the music of the bones. PAT’S THAN KS. HURE, docthor, it’s koind that yez are 5) Koind to the wretched and needy, Ready to help a poor man, Though his coat may be ragged an’ seedy. Yer profession is killin’, I know, But yez have a good heart to offset it; An’, though docthors are harder nor stone, Yez an ixciption—an’ don’t yez forget it. ‘Tis nothin’ but thanks I can give ye For the favors ye've done for poor Pat, An’ “(thank ye” is such a shmall thrifle I'm thinkin’ yez won't care for that! But take me good wishes ‘long wid it— May yez allers have plinty to do— An’ as fast as yez cures all yez patients, May the ould ones make room for the new. If yez sighin’ for work to ingage ye, An’ foind bizness poorly an’ slack, Pat's the b'ye—his shillelah is ready To hit some good frind a foine whack! "Twould be hard for the b'ye, shure, yer Honor; He'd not loike'it, on that I'll depind! But to do a good turn for the docthor I'd e’en tap the skull of a frind! So, good luck an’ success to yer Honor, Wheriver loife’s fortunes may take ye— An’ may Hiven’s chice blessin’ descind On the home an’ the loife ye may make ye. May yez pathway be covered wid flowers— An’ the storm-clouds iver be few— If throuble must overtake ye, May it fall soft an’ loight loike the dew! Marie FLAACKE. We are glad that Miss Emma Abbott has raised the money for a new trial in the Ben- nett-Smith case. Wouldn't her original remedy of a concert have been a leetle worse than the Jersey justice disease ? Tue Third Avenue Surface Road tried its new steam motor the other day. An elevated locomotive took fright at it and ran away. HORRIBLE DUEL!! ONE OF THE PRINCIPALS KILLED. WHEREABOUTS OF THE OTHER UNKNOWN. i AM dead. I've been killed. On the morn- at ing of May 11th, four days after the inter- view of the Committee of the Irish Histo- tical Society with Hon, James O'Brien had been published in Puck, I found the following note in my mail: Werrumty's Hotuen., WASHINGTON, May tin, 197ate, Misther Evins: At the dicktashin av the Hon. James O’Brien, I beg lave to assure you that that gintleman spakes Inglish as well as the nixt wan an a grate dale betther; that he niver had no inter- view noware wid no mimber av no Oirish His- torical Society, an, to the best av his belafe, there is no such organizeashin, Unless ye im- magetly rethract yer vile slanthers agin him, he expects satisfacshin. Ye know what that manes, dont ye? He wants to foight a jewel. Respectably yours, P, GiLHooLy, Private Skitherary. In this trying situation I resolved to call on George, the Count Joannes. A delegation of eminent citizens thronged his office. They were urging him to accept the nomination to the Mayoralty which they offered; but he pos- itively declined until they pledged themselves to have a morgue fitted up, adjoining the May- or’s room in the City Hall, as a receptacle for those persistent place-hunters our future muni- cipal magistrate may be obliged to dispatch in the conduct of public business. I found the nobleman affable and polite, and he told me that, as the challenged party, I had the right to name the weapons, Ina note to Mr. O’Brien I magnanimously waived the right, and re- quested him to select the instruments of death. His reply consisted of one word: ‘ Shillalehs.”” My heart for the first time failed me, and I tel- egraphed to my opponent that I would prefer swords. The following morning I received from the ‘Private Skitherary” a long com- munication, the pith of which was that ‘we moight cut aich other with sourds.” After much correspondence on the subject we com- promised on Gatling guns. The following were the conditions of the duel as agreed to by the Count and Mr. Gil- hooly, acting for the principals: Principals to meet at eastern side of Mount Shasta, California, June roth, at 6 a.m. Seconds to toss for positions, Principals to face each other, with the moun- tain between them, The principal whose cannon-ball strikes the mountain first to consider himself killed. ‘The eventful morning came, and all the pre- liminaries were speedily arranged. I took my position beside my weapon, the fuse in my hand. Prof. McEdison, with a telephone-tube at each ear, announced, from a point midway between my antagonist and myself, that Mr. O'Brien was ready. When McEdison sent up a Fenian bomb as a signal to fire, the Gatlings blazed and roared, and, by means of the telephone, he ascertained that my shot had reached the mountain before that of the Senator, and I was accordingly dead. O'Brien galloped up on a charger, and said a number of hard things about the de- parted that did not remind me of the soliloquy of Antony over the body of Brutus. I gave the statesman to understand that, if theoretically as dead as Daniel O’Connell, I was practically as lively as Conn the Shaugh- raun when that gentleman was made the sub- ject of awake, The Count gently reproved me for acting in a most uncorpselike manner. He requested me to have some respect for appear- ances. Accompanied by my second, I hurried back to New York, and I am now actively at work in securing endorsements of his nomination for Mayor. Whither O'Brien went I do not know; perhaps, as Childs would say, he has gone to meet Dennis Kearney. Curran Evans, Tirrany is getting up a Correct Kibosh Vitriol Vaporizer, with patent jewelled fountain and chased silver handle. It is a very neat and tasteful article, well-suited to the most pressing need of the times, and should be in the hands of every maiden with a recreant lover. comicbooks.com