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Show T FOOD FOR THE CARTOONIST. The other day people on this side of the water were startled by a bulletin announcing an attempt n the life of Premier Coombs by an Italian anarchist. an-archist. Two shots were fired at the distinguished Frenchman, but both bullets flew wild. An hour or so after the first report came ihiother. The bullets fired were not leaden bullets. They were not bullets at all. Tomatoes were thrown at the premier's carriage. car-riage. Just to hurt his feelings, and not to harm his skin. Yet all the elements of sensation were present at this attempted assassination. The fellow who shot the bullets which turned out to be tomatoes answered an-swered to the name of Sanvaire Picolo. Musical enough for any hot tamale man to own; yet what's in a name? Now if those tomatoes had been real bullets, and Salvaire Picolo could speak French .without the Italian accent, to whom and to what would the credulous world assign the responsibility of the act? To some French religious, of course, in revenge for loss incurred through operation of the act closing monasteries and schools to certain proscribed orders. As it is, Premier Coombs is denied harsher measures of reprisal against Catholics by this childish act of an Italian fool. He is not an anarchist, an-archist, because an anarchist would have shot to kill. If he had the sense of an American he would have hurled eggs at the premier venerable hen fruit of stout odor. The whole tragedy is a comedy. The wonder is that it has not been sensed by our clever local cartoonist on the Herald staff. |