What induced Frank Leslie to attack the Milkmen? To make money from the sale of his nauseous pictures. And thus benificence flows from mercenary minds. Leslie is a British alien, and cares far less about American cows and milk, and poisoned infants, than the American dollar. The town is in a perfect uproar about rat’s bane milk, but all will soon be as placid as a summer sea. Gilded metal will soon heal the human palm of all its ills. We have witnessed these milk spasms all our days, and we lived near the Sixteenth street depot, many years ago, and nearly died from the poisonous atmosphere. Let fathers and mothers, and grandfathers and grandmothers assemble at these murderous depots, and saturate the guts of the proprietors with their bloody and scabby milk poison, and then put them in a pillory, and pelt them with rotten eggs, and then tie them to a whipping post, and give them a thousand lashes, with cow tails, until their hacks are raw down to their bone and marrow. And we doubt if even this terrible scourge would drive them from their fatal avocation. For years on years our most respectable citizens have petitioned the Common Council to destroy these poisonous milk establishments, but their proprietors have always united and bought a majority of the members of the Common Council to refuse their just and humane petitions. And where is Ex-Mayor Havemeyer, who has resided within a stone’s throw of the Sixteenth street cow establishment for twenty successive years? He, alone, could have released those poor dumb animals, and have saved the lives of ten thousand infants. And we had rather incur the perils of twenty murderers at the bar of God, than the mysterious and incredible leniency of Ex-Mayor Havemeyer towards the milk assassins, who have committed their deeds of hell under his very nostrils at the foot of Sixteenth street during a third of his mortal career. God’s wrath on him should and will be terrible indeed for his inhuman dereliction.
Can Mayor Tiemann or Peter Cooper inform us who originated the Ward Island speculation, through which the city has been and will be plundered till doomsday? We will bet heavily, that Tiemann and Cooper know more about the Ward Island purchases than they would like to disclose. We shall see.
We approach our career as a lover in the next chapter of our “Life.” We dread this, as it is nearly the only portion of the past that we review with sadness. But we must commence the painful task in the next number of the Alligator, which will elicit many a tear and smile from the curious children of Adam and Eve, but there will be more tears than smiles from us, as we record, for coming ages, our most extraordinary domestic history. The Turks and Mormons and descendants of the amorous patriarchs will wildly stare, when they peruse our legal relations with human divinities.
Who was the confidential friend of Joseph S. Taylor? Mayor Tiemann.—Who was forever prowling around the Street Commissioner’s Office in the days of Jo. Taylor? Mayor Tiemann.—Who boasted that he could always control the vote of Ex-Governor Tiemann? Jo. Taylor. And who always did control the vote of Ex-Governor Tiemann? Jo. Taylor!—O Moses!
A young scamp sends us a threat. His surname begins with K., which is the initial of “Knell!” Knave! Dost thou understand?