Puck — July 23, 1879 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

PUCK. A HERO AND A MARTYR. OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. Tuov canst boast a noble mien, Chastine! Fairer form than thine, I ween, O Chastine! Never in New York was seen. Could those lovely features screen Projects base or thoughts unclean? Round thy head we see the sheen Of ahalo, No sardine Is Chastine! —W. Y. Chameteon, EXaMINED closely, Mr. Cox has a truly noble cast of features, and there is something in the curl of his hair which speaks of a nafre attuned to high and noble thoughts.—Daily Drumhead. Tue behavior of the prisoner was marked by that gentle dignity and that winning air of trustful resignation which have characterized his conduct throughout the whole of these un- fortunate proceedings.— Morning Flea. WHATEVER part destiny may have forced him to play in the deplorable Hull affair, it cannot be denied that Chastine Cox is one of nature’s noblemen.— Zhe Theorist. Tue record of Mr. Cox’s life, from infancy to manhood, is the tale of a life singularly ele- vated above the degrading passions and weak- nesses of frail humanity.—Daily Crosseye. Who is there, indeed, who can gaze on that pure and lofty brow, that mobile mouth, those frank and artless eyes, and that general expres- sion of simple and unstudied benevolence, without feeling an instinctive reverence for the exceptionally beautiful character which they so clearly indicate ?— Karly Gusher. Wuen we consider the fact that ever since his incarceration, Mr. Cox has made a practice of chewing tenpenny nails and standing on his head on the ceiling, it becomes evident to the dullest intellect that if Chastine Cox is not actually insane, that noble intellect is at least tottering on its foundations.—Morning Sympa- thiser, He did it, perhaps; but he never meant to do it.—Evening Apologizer. Ir is truly pitiable to see this strong man broken down bodily and mentally by a perse- cution which is, at the best, injudicious. Any- one who has watched him in the solitude of his cell, brooding over the half-forgotten nursery rhymes of his happy childhood, or linking his wonderfully beautiful hair in elfin knots, or vacantly sporting with the Tombs bullfrog, cannot but experience a thrill of holy indigna- tion against the men who have hounded down, through all these long weeks, the ill-starred Chastine Cox.— Afternoon Softy. Dip you ever notice the strange, sweet, wierd resemblance of Chastine Cox’s face to Raphael's Madonna della Seggiola? Sometimes, when, in the close and crowded court-room, my glance Tests on the plastic lines of his face, I feel a sense of uplifting, and my weary spirit is borne away to a higher and holier region, whence it comes back refreshed and strengthened to meet the trials and troubles of our daily life.— Female Correspondent of the Slabville Slobberer, Tuere have been worse men than Chastine Cox. Look at Nero, for instance; look at Cal- igula and George Francis Train; and then let him who is without sin among you cast the first stone at him.—AMorning Blaat, Sensitive to a fault, generous, clean, with no perceptible smell about him. And this is the man they are going to hang!— Daily Reapek, put yourself in his place. You go out one night, walking innocently along the street. Suddenly the idea comes to you to rob ahouse. You enter through an open window, You find your way to the back parlor. There you discover, unexpecte:ily, an old lady asleep. What business has anyone to sleep in a back parlor? She wakes up and interferes with your labors—rudely, brutally interferes. You tie her down to the bed, but she is deaf to re- monstrance: you put a pillow on her face, but she still obstinately refuses to view the matter from your standpoint. ‘Then you lean on her, quietly but firmly. She is fat. Is it your fault that she is fat? She cannot stand pressure. But are you expected to be cognizant of her little peculiarities? She dies. Did you ask her to die? You take her jewelry, and quietly, unobtrusively, leave the house. You go off for a little trip—simply to amuse your- self—to cheer yourself up a bit. Detectives follow you. Worse, the bloodhounds of the press put themselves on your trail. They find you out in your modest retirement, send for you to a church and interrupt your devotions, ‘They hale you to New York, load you with chains, and cast you into a dungeon. And for what? Reader, this is the case of Chastine Cox. Do not you, too, sympathize with the involuntary cry of indignation which wells up from his half-broken heart ?—Sunday Bunsby, A Poor, untaught, ignorant negro, a wretch who never knew the distinction between right and wrong, a mere child, morally and intellect- ually, who shall say that we ought to judge poor Cox by the high standard of propriety which we would apply to the actions of a Stokes or a MacFarland ?>—Morning Wiseacre. Four hundred and twenty-seven ladies brought bouquets to the alleged murderer of Mrs. Hull yesterday. Mr. Cox received all his visitors with a courteous smile of welcome, and, at the especial request of one fair donor of an exquisite floral tribute, he imprinted a delicate kiss upon her proffered cheek.— Daily Detector. ‘Tue prisoner wore a white tie and a lilac shirt, and sucked an oblong, pale-straw-colored lemon. The popular feeling is growing more and more in his favor.—AMorning Microcosm. Wuere is beauty such as thine, Chastine ? Where is air so near divine, O Chastine? Pure and sweet as Baby Mine, Shall the cruel hangman's twine Jerk thy spirit so benign To the land where ghosts woodbine, My Chastine? — Weekly Bloomer. THE S. P.C. A. AT CENTRAL PARK. New dog-day duties devolving upon the keeper of the Polar Bear. FITZNOODLE IN AMERICA. No, XCVI. NEW YORK IN THE DOG DAYS. Ya-as, aw I quite expected to have witten fwom the countwy aw fwom Sarwatoga or New- port or Wichfield, or some othah varwiety of Spwings, but a bwothah officer of Jack's had wequest- ed him to arwange some curwious business forweign affa-iahs which necessitated Jack's we- maining in New York, so I pwomised to stay with him until he had bwought the mattah to a favorwable conclusion. I did it out of fwiend- ship for Jack, Am always wathah disposed to make a twifling sacwifice faw a fwiend—pwo- vided it isn’t too much twouble. But still it was a terwific baw having to we- side in New York durwing the beastly to: weathah, I weally didn’t know what to do with myself, I got wearwy of going to Manhattan and Bwighton Beach on a Coney Island. I went two or thrwee nights to a verwy wespectable concert hall where there are a number of musi- cians who play tunes on stwinged and othah instwuments, and fellaws of both sexes come in and out and dwink be-ah and othah beverwages, I have weason to believe the pwopwietahs of the arwangement are Custard & Veal. Aw and there’s Sedgmoor’s Gardens, which I descwibed at considerwable length soon aftah my arwival in this blawsted countwy. I wandah in there, too, It wejoices in a red- coated band and severwal vocalists. Aw, ye know, it's the place that has a miniature Nia- garwa with tin wocks, and is occasionally lit up with electwic telegwaph lights, which are ex- twemely blue and not always bwight. You can also dwink be-ah heah, and pwomenade wound the gwavel walks, aw sit down and look at the small twees and shrwubs which are the pwinci- pal decorwations of the place. But a fellaw cahn’t go to eithah of these we- sorts nightaftah night, ifhe has to wemain he-ah, and the d-d-devil of it is there is nowhere else to wandah into. Everwybody is out of the city, and there is plenty of woom to walk the stweets without wunning against anybody. Aw it is quite wespectably dull in town—I mean aw in London—aftah Goodwood, but, hang it, if something or othah wendahs it ne- cessarwy to wemain, a fellaw can find aw cer- tain descwiption of arwangements to contwi- bute towards his amusement. He can go to the Cwystal Palace and tosev- erwal places up the wivah, or to Wichmond and indulge in a wow, or to Gweenwich, or to Gwavesend and eat shwimps and watah-cwesses, or toa large numbah of othah quite decent we- sorts in easy and comparwatively close pwoxi- mity to town, So differwent he-ah, ye know. Twue, one he-ahs the names of an extwaordinarwy varwi- ety of villages and suburbs; the papahs ovah- flow with them. But then there is so verwy stwong a family wesemblance among them all, and they are invarwiably in so verwy wuinous and yet pwimitive a condition, that it isn’t safe to twy the experwiment of paying them a visit aw. ‘Aw shall weally be awfully glad when Jack and I can get off to the countwy and bweathe the fwesh air. Besides I am wathah anxious to wejoin Miss Marguerwite and the dateswestiog and uninterwesting membahs of the family. believe she’s wanderwing somewhere between Sarwatoga and Newport aw. comicbooks.com