Puck — November 26, 1879 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

PUCK, 613 TO THE TURKEY. LL HAIL, proud bird of Freedom! ‘The people have risen again! ‘Thou art doomed, huge bird, to feed ’em; ‘Come forth from thy barn yard pen! O gift of the gods! ‘Thou'rt an angel with *sass!” ‘Thou suitest me better than a railroad pass! Thou art sweeter than a burlesque blonde ‘When flavored with sage and salt! Thou art mighty as the French Gironde, Accompanied by wine and malt! Though thy ghost may haunt us in unpaid bills, ‘Thou art Letter for health than a ton of blue pills! Oh! great men sit down before thee, ‘And dofi their high silk plugs; When the golden grease falleth o'er thee And thou art environed with mugs! Yea, thou diest the death of a righteous sage, And slippest down good in thy green old age! Cw. MR. MUGGINS PLAYS BILLIARDS, FOR THE CHAMPIONSHIP OF GOWANUS. eK ILLIARDS is my favorite game. There is manliness about it that you don’t find above any other game—except, per- haps, draw poker and seven-up—and, on that account, mainly, and because it affords ex- hilarating exercise, I prefer it to nearly all other games, I used to know Joe Geelong, when he kept a Billiard-hall in Montreal; and when I met him the other day, after an interval of almost a de- cade, he very naturally suggested a friendly tussel over the cloth of green. I had some misgivings as to my abilities, owing to my condition of rustiness after so long a period of desuetude, especially as I never played over a half dozen games alto- gether, and those during my early acquaintance with the billiard champion. However, I pride myself on my pluck; I think I have more pluck than anything else— unless it is cheek—and so I did not hesitate to match cues with the expert Canadian. We strung for the lead—my ball going back and forth about three times, and stopping dead in the centre of the table, Joe said he had won the lead, and as I had no umpire, I had to cave in and let him go ahead, e I chalked my cue and stared around while he rolled up thirty—following him about and keeping watch that he played fair—because I had no umpire. . Then I took off my coat, chalked my cue afresh, and prepared for action. I banged away, with a determination to pro- duce results, if they could be produced; and below Idon’t give you a diagram of my wonder- ful shot. ‘The paper wouldn’t hold it. But it was a well earned shot, and gave me one, amidst great applause, Joe, himself, clap- ping his hands with generous gusto, ‘Then 1 chalked my cue, and fired another broadside, It was a beautiful shot, and I came within a hair’s-length of making a count, which, by that slight mischance, I lost. Then Joseph took hisinnings. I will do Joe the justice to say that in spite of the fact that he does not display much muscular effect, he manages to have mighty good luck, for on’ his second bout he scooped in sixty points. Once more I chalked my cue; and then I played for safety—and missed. Joe'got the balls together and rolled up twenty more. I chalked my cue, and fired another blank cartridge. Then Joe scratched together seventy-five, and the balls froze. I chalked my cue, Joe played from the spot and counted. Still I chalked my cue, The game was to be five hundred points for the beer and the championship of all Gowanus. I chalked my cue, and Joe kept blazin, away till he got up to 140 on this innings, ani then he slipped up on an orange peel, leaving the balls in good form for me. My next shot was a massé, I am nothing if not scientific. I chalked my cue and let sliver. MY MASSE. I made the shot; but I masséd a hole in the cloth that cost me fifteen dollars, Expense was no object to me in my intense excitement. I was after the championship. Once more I chalked my cue, and was just on the point of making a beautiful shot, when Joe sung out— “No rail nursing!” “J ain't nursing anything,” says 1. you think I was a baby farmer?” Joe called in the purser of the establishment as referee, who decided that I must spot my ball and begin again. “I demurred; but Joe decided in favor of the referee; and, having no umpire, I had to suc- cumb, In my excitement I chalked my ball instead of my cue, and when I played I missed again by a mere hair’s-length, ‘This interference checked my career in the midst of one of the most interesting runs I had made in the entire game. I felt annoyed, but I chalked my cuestoically, and let Joe go to the bat once more. The game now stood— ME: 1—o—o—o—1 Joe: 30 - 60.—20 -140=250, It beat all—the luck that that fellow had! He kept walking round the table, making shot after shot, while I followed, still chalking my cue, till he had added 210 to his score. Then I tried a draw shot. To my astonish- ment my ball went about two feet into the air and then crocheted off under the table. Joe allowed that that didn’t count me any- thing, and then he started on another heat, down the home stretch. He added 30 points to his score, and then went to grief on an easy carom. . Now, it I could only make a run of 498, I should run the game out, and beat him after all. Summoning all my strength for a coup de force terrifique, 1 banged away with a tremendous plunge, but an unfortunate miss prevented my counting. About this time the chalk gave out, and I despaired of winning. In ten more whacks Joe ran the game out, and I lost the championship. I haven't the heart to figure up the average. ” “Did Af the chalk had only held out a little longer I might have won! Yours gamely, Epurat’ Mucoins. THE GAUNTLET OF HORRORS. ¥ the enormous sums that are yearly collected for the support of our charities were pooled and disbursed in a systematic and proper manner, New York would not be disgraced by such a spectacle as our artist has depicted on the last page cartoon. We have asylums, houses of refuge and hos- pitals for every species of disease or affliction under the sun and moon, We have institutions for the lame and the halt, the blind and the deaf, the idiot and the incurable; and how recreant-these establish- ments are to their trust may be seertalmost any day in the week by the peripatetic loathsome, deformed wretches that infest our streets and make a trade of their afflictions in a manner rivaling only that of the Roman beggars in the portico of St. Peter's. It is a profitable business, because the ave- rage foot-passenger is not fond of contemplat- ing human misery, and will give something— anything—so long as the wretched object will get out of his way. It is monstrous that such a state of things should be allowed to exist for a day in this great city. If a man is unfortunate enough to lose his legs and his arms, he is obviously unfitted to earn a living in the same way as a man who possesses these members, The duty of his fellow-citizens, through their City or State charities, is plain. They should take care of him, keep him from the busy haunts of other men, and treat him kindly, for he is a worthy object of compassion. On no account should he be permitted to flaunt before nervous women and good-hearted men his horrible deformities. It may be urged that to deprive him of his liberty, after the loss of arms and legs, isto pun- ish him for a fault which is not his, But this is the penalty he must pay for living in an alleged civilized community. A maimed individual, allowed to roam and beg about the streets at will, can only excite horror and terror. He isa nuisance and an eyesore, and as such ought to be quietly rele- gated to an institution where he can enjoy all the liberty he pleases, except the liberty to an- noy other people by his offensive appearance. Let our ‘Charities and Corrections” author- ities look to it. Let our streets be cleared of these pestilent beggars. But how vain is the hope of anything being done in the matter! When a judge and jury actually congratulate Mr. Captain Williams on his recent acquittal, why should such a little thing as a complaint against a few maimed and diseased wretches be heeded by the Commissioners of Charities and Corrections? FLING OUT THE BLOODY SHIRT ! ANoTHER SOUTHERN OUTRAGE, comicbooks.com