Puck — October 8, 1879 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

PUCK, DECIDEDLY— MORE ROOM WANTED IN OUR SCHOOLS. Orricer (at one end of Croton pipe): “Hi, what 're you boys doin’ in there?” Heap-noy (af ¢’ other end): ‘Well, there ain’t no room for these little fellers in the schools; so I’m teachin’ em suthin’, so’s they won't grow up in ignorance!” LEGS AND LUCRE. _ — aP> VERYBODY is walking. Not only the [4 professional tramps who travel ona track after other people's money; but every- body, from the banker who holds your capital to the baker's boy who leaves his loaves of “Vienna” at your area door every morning. It is a wonder that all sorts of centrifugal and centripetal forces are not put out of gear by this tramp-tramp; that the rotary motion of the Earth is not affected by it, as the mental equipoise of mankind certainly #5. One can understand, readily enough, the temporary mania which seizes upon an ent- husiastic people when some great man or woman—great in the arts or in those deeds of daring which make the heart thrill—come among them. ‘The veriest cynic can only set such a people down as silly; but the people who have encouraged the recent “walkers” may be fairly called mad. Very clearly and emphatically Puck ex- pressed his mind upon this walking madness, last week; very unmistakably he showed his horror at the brutality of the whole affair, But there is another side to these ‘“ matches,” be- sides their cruelty, aside which shows the asini- nity of the people who encourage them. It is very safe to say that in all which con- cerns Art, Literature, Music and the Drama New York is, as in commerce, the leading city of this continent; yet every artistic, literary, musical and dramatic interest in the city has suffered financially from the weary tramp of a lot of men, raked out of English pot-houses and off the tail-boards of our ‘ vendors"-carts. There was a tint of respectability in the whole picture, except such as was given it by Sir John Astley— baronet of an old English family’’—who has shown his respect for his lineage by mixing himself up with a lot of pro- fessional sports, and making money out of a “Belt” never paid for with his own money. In about a year, he with Atkinson and Rowell, his agents, take away some $40,000 of Amer- ican money for a tramp of two weeks—more money than many true and successful brain- workers can realize in a life-time of usefulness, And this (and much more) we pay to see how fast and how far a man can walk in six days, without grace or beauty, in a way nof to en- courage true pedestrianism among the people; and we gloat over newspaper pictures of dis- ordered stomachs, running sores, blisters as big as one’s hand, skinned toes and bodily afflic- tions which people of fair breeding never speak of out-side the sick-room or the doctor’s office. And the insanity of it all! This go-as-you- please tramp was painfully grotesque in the cases of Hazael and Taylor; and terribly cruel in the cases of Guyon and Panchot. It seems to be the grand idea of the “backers” to get aman to go “anyhow” the greatest number of miles in a given number of hours; and we therefore suggest that another Darwin should develope us backwards in our original species of toads and grasshoppers and kangaroos, who can cover ‘‘as-they-please" many more times their length than the average man as he is now improved. If, as the gambling backers say, “There's money in this sort of thing,” why not invest capital in a new breed of men who can hop-skip-and.jump thousands of miles per week? ‘The kangaroo-leap is far more graceful than the jog-trot of a Rowell, and covers more ground; and surely the spring of a lively toad is a thing of beauty compared to the blistered limp of a Panchot. While the backers are at it, they might make a cross between the average Ave- noodle and the Ass which would develope a fine breed of patrons for these walkings. In conclusion we may remark that it is very consoling to us New Yorkers to see how a half- dozen Cockney sporting men can capture us every time; can allow the “ belt" to be a/ways carried to America with a couple of hundred pounds of winnings; and then let the Ameri- can donkeys see it won from them, while they chuck thousands upon thousands of dollars into the bags of its Cockney winner. OCTOBER. Tis is the time of the year When lemonade ceases to cheer; When the sweet but seductive whiskey-straight Begins both to cheer and inebriate, And the Avenue toff Who's partaken thereof Stares blankly and blindly—bewilderedly at ‘The girl of his heart in a little round hat. THE USES OF THE BIBLE, rere the many millions of people who inhabit the earth’s surface, several mil- lions believe in the Bible; they don’t express by their lives any especial evidence of their belief; but they do—yes, they do—be- lieve in the Bible, Although they may play foot-ball with the Decalogue, and do all those things which the Bible tells them not to do, while they leave undone all those things they ought, according to the Bible, to have done most thoroughly—nevertheless, they believe in the Bible. Ask them, and they'll tell you they do, A big book-binding biz. is done in putting the Bible into fancy gilt covers, surpassing even those of Puck in gorgeousness, The Bible is sent, by millions of copies, in all sorts of translations, to savages who can’t read it, as they don’t know even their own lan- gaages; and generally use ‘‘ Genesis,” “ The Psalms,” ‘“ Habakkuk,” the “Acts” and the “ Epistles ” as gun-wads with which to fire at Christian missionaries, who kindly supply them with shot-guns simultaneously with the Scrip- tures. The number of Bibles in watered-silk, velvet and Russia-leather, heavy with gold foil, that the dear people believe in because they are a sort ABOUT TIME. Fonp MotHer:—“ See here, Joseph, I have been thinking lately that you are about old enough to dress yourself.” of Register’s Office of all the born, married and dead of the family, would delight the heart of a publisher who could get up a “corner” on Bibles and secure a monopoly of publishing them. But the Bible which is not a mere Sunday Bible, to be read for a dozen of minutes; the Bible which is in daily, almost hourly, public use, is the Bible of the courts, This book is a most venerable affair; although its powers of locomotion are nil, and it never moves except from a dusty shelf to the clerk’s hand, it wears the habiliments of a tramp; it is very ragged, and eke foul-smelling; it is greasy, and the va- rious culinary odors of very many families nes- tle in its covers. The buck-nigger and the retty girl who slings her skirts over a s'clock Broadway pavement; the bloated lips of Mr. Dinnis McSwillum and Mme. Takeitoffeasy of the Italian Legation, are alike forced to “kiss the Book.” ‘The poor child from a house be- ing disinfected from the remains of small-pox, gives place, in kissing “ the Book,” to the fee- ble consumptive to whom pure breath is life; it is the law, and those who believe in the Bible must kiss it if they go to court. We submit that if they who believe in the Bible—really or ostensibly—desire it to be held in reverence, they should remove it from the slobberings and foul breathings of the court- room, or else raise societies entitled, “Everyone His Own Bible Carrier.” Or rare perfumes might be sprayed from fountains over the kissee and upon the kissers before and after the ceremony. It might give court positions tosome Tammany men, to take them from their slumbers on dis- tillery barrels, and let them out,so much a head, to osculate the Bible (by proxy) for wit- nesses, jurors, &c., desirous of preserving their health. We suppose, of course, such sticklers for all that affects hygienic laws as our Judges Brady, Hackett, Gildersleeve and others of the Bench in New York, have their Court Bibles fumigated and disinfected and otherwise cleansed twice a day; but even this is insufficient; and we hope more heroic means may be adopted by action of our own and other legislatures. Suppose a man is merely sworn—just as he is now—to do his duty and tell the truth, with all the pains and penalties for perjury hanging over him, and no kissing of any book—don’t you think, you intelligent, enlightened Ameri- can citizen, you trusty reader of Puck, that the evidence in our law-courts would be quite as trustworthy as it now is, and justice be as read- ily and as surely done ? If you do, hold up your right hand, but— pon’T Kiss the Book. : comicbooks.com