A Famous Knight of the Needle The death of Jelly Belly the Tailor, which occurred on Tues: at his shop and residence in Boone Road, cannot be allowed to" pass without the tribute of a few lines, from one who knew him only by the fame of his comic trade name. On first sight of this strange designation above his shop door we were prepared to make oath and say that a'Jack Tar had been sponsor at the christening. And so it was. The name offered in jest and accepted in earnest no doubt appealed with all the force of a delightful novelty to the Chinese of the old school, who could searcely be expected to ponder deeply upon its comic significance. He made it his trade name, and—believe—prospered, as was fitting in such an act of simple faith: an instance of treachery in nomenclature turned to triumph. So great was his fame that only a few years ago, we believe, he figured in the pages of "Punch."
Circumstantial evidence provides us with two indubitable facts concerning the deceased. That he was a man of ample girth the name obviously implies, and that he was a genial old soul—and a shrewd one—is equally certain from his quick adoption of the fantastic foreign name. There can be no more Jelly Bellies. The race of the genially illiterate must retire before the onslaught of the spelling primers and the elementary school. Like "Washing & Ca.," Jelly Belly belongs to a class now fading into tradition. Hence these few! lines to mark the passing of the gentleman who for some 30 years plied an industrious needle principally in the sartorial interests of seafaring men.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.