Puck — July 2, 1879 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

PUCK. ANODE. He: And I can never call you Kate? Sur: Never. He: What—never? . . ‘What care I for life or death, ‘What care I for wealth or fame, ‘What is there in hope or faith, If I can never call the name Of Kate? ‘What are lips, if they are sealed, ‘What is love, if cold or tame, ‘What are hearts, if unrevealed, ‘What is earth without the name Of Kate? ‘What is man, if dead or dumb, ‘What is work without an aim, ‘What are souls all chilled and numb, ‘What is it not to call the name Of Kate? ° if . Out all! out all! away, away! I'll venture this on Fate; T'd rather end it here to-day— Ob, may I never call you Kate? * * . She: Ahem, Well, hardly ever— Then, gently and softly, in the silver sheen of the glo. rious June moonlight, locking down into the upturned, speaking eyes, he sees that which impels him to go to the Ice-cream factory and order one dish and two spoons. W. J. Lamrron. RECOVERY OF THE HISTORY OF OFRELAND. id ILENT work is sometimes the surest. Al- though much excitement has prevailed among our readers, and many inquiries have been made regarding the very sudden ces- sation of the only true and reliable history of the Jim of the Say, we have said nothing. We knew what we were doing; we knew that our own special explorer, with a daring grander than Stanley’s, was knocking about the lofty slums of ten-story tenement houses in search of Professor MacBallywhack, Sir John Franklin is gone, yet the world breathes and eats. Livingstone has skipped, yet the world drinks, If you don’t believe this, go to Coney Island and see, But what would a hundred thousand Irish readers of Pucx do for the instruction of their childher in Oirish history, if Professor Bally- whack was lost? We sent out our special reporter well sup- plied. He carried with him a small Spitz dog containing a reserve force of hydrophobia; one bottle of carbolic acid; one policeman with a club; and $17.50 in cash, to be used for beer or distillery stuff, to secure the good will of the natives, Mulberry Street was the first point of ob- servation; and, though encompassed on all sides by danger, our Explorer passed through safely, thanks to the Spitz dog. Nothing: was found until he reached the Nineteenth Ward, in those breezy heights which overlook Black- well’s Island. Here MacBallywhack was found. The Explorer wished there was an elevated railroad from the front door to the lofty apart- ment of MacBallywhack. The latter historio- grapher was in bed; the bedstead of no par- ticular architectural design, rather, as it were, made on the installment plan. Two of its legs were propped up with bricks. The Professor was covered with a gray blanket, which bore the crest “ U.S.” and which covered him up to his chin. Nothing of him was visible ex- cept his noble brow and face, on the latter whereof he seemed to have been for some weeks cultivating a beard of red and white stubble, wherein the white evidently had the best of it. “Aha, me b'y,” he cried, as he lay like a mummy on his bed, “ excuse me shakin’ hands wid ye. Oi'm takin’ the Gearge Francis Thrain’s theory. Idon’t shake han’s—I lose me elec- tricity. So ye've come for th’ Histhory? Luk here, now, I’ve been sayin’ to meself these many days: ‘Quowusgue tandem, Puck, abut- ayre patienshah nostrah?' How long is it afore ye’re going? Fwhat’s that ye have in yer pocket—a bottle?” Before the Explorer could seize his arm, the Professor had whipped from his pocket the bot- tle of carbolic acid and had it at his lips. But the Explorer was in time. He seized it and sprinkled its contents over the floor and on the hall-way stairs, to the manifest improvement of the atmosphere, “ Bigobbs,” said the Professor, ‘I thought it was whuskey.” During this little excitement the “U.S.” blanket had become disarranged, and led the Explorer to believe that the great MacBally- whack had got into bed as he had come into the world—without any clothing on him. Sun- dry small pieces of brown paper, with cabalistic figures and dates upon them, with the words, “Boots, 75¢.; Coat, 1.25 H; Pants, 87; Vest, 153 Shirt, 25; Undercl., 30, were subsequently submitted to the Explorer, and the policeman, without his club, went to a neighboring store- keeper whose name was Moses, but who must have been an Oirishman, because he had a sort of shamrock, in three gilt balls, over his door. After a commercial transaction, several pack- ages were conveyed to Professor MacBally- whack, and he appeared at the street-door, where the Explorer awaited him, with his hat cocked on one side, his elbow jauntily crooked, and a roll of eloquence upon his tongue which we are only too sorry could not be given to our readers. . After the bribe of many punches; after ex- perimenting as to which was the better, the Oirish whuskey, the American cocktail, or the German lager, our Explorer at last induced the Professor to sit down and take a good square meal. His menu was: 1, Deviled kidney, 2. Lobster salad, 3. Several hard-boiled eggs. 4. Some Deviled kidney, 5. Welsh rarebit, 6. Yorkshire pudding. 7. Pie (this in honor of America), 8. Some more deviled kidneys. During this little repast the Explorer was re- galed by copious draughts of Greek and Latin quotations, some Oirish and a little English, all tending to clinch the nail of promise which the Professor made, that suffering young Oireland in America should not do without its own His- tory of Oireland. We tremblingly await events. — Two numbers of “Around the World with General Grant,” by John Russell Young, comes to us from the American News Co. They are excellent specimens of typography, and the cuts and engravings are excellent. We would strongly recommend this work to aspir- ing third-term candidates, They will then know how much they ought to see before ventur- ing on such a campaign. FITZNOODLE IN AMERICA, No XCII, ‘THE ASTLEY BELT, Ya-as, Amerwe cans are again mak- ing a terwific wow, because a pedes- twian fellaw, wejoic- ing in the name of aw Weston, has been walking severwal hundwed miles in " the Agwiculturwal Hall, Islington, and has wegained a belt, or something of that sort, that the English fellaw Wowell won fwom some Amerwicans and Irwish who twied to walk against him he-ah and were widiculously thrwashed. ‘Aw ye know Astley was the orwiginal pwo- pwietah of the arwangement. I don’t mean to say that he evah wan or engaged in a pedes twian twial of endurwance, but he was the fel- law who had it made faw the aw walkah who could wetain it faw the longest perwiod, Ya as, ye see, a walkah named Bwown—so Jack says—had, it appeahs, a few bwief months ago, in Gweat Bwitain, made the gweatest time on wecord—some seven or cight hundwed miles, I believe, in two or thrwee days. Now aw Weston, an Amerwican who has been amusing himself faw severwal ye-ahs b parwading about and twaveling along Engli woads, twied to outswip this man Bwown in the wace, and aw by some wemarkable concatena- tion of extwaordinarwy circumstances, is said to have succeeded, And this fellaw Weston is to bwing this Astley belt back to this blawsted countwy. As a mattah of course, Bwown allowed Wes- ton to carwy this arwangement off, with a view to future pwofits, in the event of Bwown—who, by the way, is called a blowah”—cwossing the Atlantic and engaging in anothah contest he-ah, Aw I'm almost wearwy of this perpetual measurwing of stwength between Englishmen and these pwetended Amerwican sporting men. It worwies me—if it be at all possible for anything of such a charwactah to twouble me in the slightest degwee. It is a pwetty well understood thing by all individuals endowed with pwopah weasoning powahs, that undah ordinarwy circumstances it is utterly widiculous for Amerwicans to twy to aw compete with anybody in sporting mat- tahs who is born undah Bwitish wule. The Amerwicans must invarwiably get uttahly wouted when they make the attempt, unless, by some extwaordinarwy accident, the English fellaw bweaks down irwetwievably. Don’t know at pwesent that I have anything maw to say on the subject. I have no particu- lar pwedilection faw pedestwianism in any shape or form. It’s a gweat deal too much of a baw, Aw'pon my soul I was awfully sorwy to he-ah of the aw murdah of the ex-Empwess's youngstah, aw Louis, in South Afwicah. Quite anice boy fora Fwenchman, I always used to take some notice of him whenevah I found my- self in close pwoximity to him or his mothah —not ‘because he was a pwince, but because he was a wespectable, well-bwed young fellaw aw. ‘Tue blue-striped shirt which the fop now af- fects, gives him the appearance of a consump: | tive butcher in Sunday clothes; but he knows what he is about, for he says, “ Soon I will in- dulge in a fortnight’s vacation, and I need take no baggage along.” Ccomicbooks.com i | Z