Judge — June 17, 1882 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

ne offen am to tell you dat it You ain't yot d a temp qualifications to il of it to expeet, nity tll “take to drink, uurse all this is ver! ems to demand, that Ore with no small degre an tion to thi about three weeks foolish, and it was ple re that I met well-established rule of exc to It was in the cafe of a prominent up town -1, where for the pod digestion t gentlen not exactly moment I was enjoying waits on appetit n, tall, thin, somewhat seedy, broke,” but sort. of up,” tapped me on the shoulde * broke and exelaim- “Why, m: i ized the salutation and saw jd friend MePhilter, his is 1 pleasure,” marked. “Indee before an unexpe he nided,, of ten years itmust be since I w you. How fat you're getting.” Well, no matt pout that. How ha you be ve you been? By the way, you look thin?” “Oh! no, no, you're mistaken, my b 1 fifteen pounds more than I did last fall, But come, let's take a drink.” I tried myself—just had lunch, didn’t like the practice. pon, bat it was of old times I broke the es, sir, whet to excu no use; for the sa ruk “By the | down the gl andkerchief 11 sain, “by the by wife How is she?’ MePhilter looke strange kind ¢ “TI tell you,’ take a drink.” dl, as T laid of a new silk dl bought that day at a bar- Tdidn't ask about your and made uss at me steadily, in a take dat doy aut nnpertect nny, AN your Mammy Hint My silk handkerchief again became useful. Mac looked for his in his breast-pocket, wasn't there. Dove for it unsuee his coat-tail pocket, searched puzzled and unhapp: ful when | le bi for it in his hat, for a moment, finally fished it st pocket of his ve “Til tell you, major, in confidence, but” and his voice sunk almost to a whisper-- a subject I seldom speak ot." “Why—why—you d —sihie lool but beeame ches out from the ins n't mean to. say she's ail, Mac, do you “No—no. Divorced, | Well, drink.” let's take a It scemed almost charitable to comply with stion. “Poor fellow," [said to anyself. Tn sorry I spoke about his old wife. 1 only did Hewill change the But he didn’t. | “TL thought you heard about that,” he com- | menced again. “It was in the papers— | Sam (this to the bar-keeper), just give us the | same. Yes, sir, divorecd—out and out, three | years ago. great ch the old By the ever notice what fools—what | men become who are so situat divorced men, and men sep: wives?” “Why, no, Mac, how's that?” “They take to drink--take to drink, Le! me see—I know twelve men, divorced or sep- ted—all took to drink, all except three, Puddleton, Beedlewix and Mopsley; no, they didn’t drink. They're in the Insane Asylum over at Flatbush—(Sam, you can repeat that dose.) —Well, isn’t it strange? | boy, from dtd you psolute idiots I—I mean wl from their ays. | L admired MePhilter—that | the: “T have notice practice you spea “The idea of a man endowed with brains, common sense, giving himself up to—to stu like that.” And he pointed contemptuously to the whisky bottle, but a moment later grasped it heartily and poured forth a liberal dose. 1 the fact, and certainly the k of is very foolish.” “T tell you, major, it isa great mistake to wrive way to trouble, And yet how many men there are who no sooner have domestic experience than they let it eru: them—crush them to the earth, and grind them to pieces. , that is not right.” And he looked at me very sternly, as if to seo if 1 would take a contrary view of the question, and boldly mantain that it right. was Of course I did not his view. his talk—he my view is, was alwa “Tha ys a good talker. ve my ideas,” he continued, “about © things, and I never fail to express then, I believe, sir, when trouble comes you should meet it with the club of common sense in your hand and knock it down,” And his fist descended on the counter with terrible effect, making the glasses hop. ‘The bar-tender looked at him rather depre- catingly. (That's all right, Sam, another drink.”) “Well,” I said, thinking I would say thing pleasant, “I'm glad you take the vi You remember what muetimes Ic Here, let's you do. says about our ange only that archange Now, major, now stop 1 one word against my wife. in ‘Lost in London,’ I’m continually ot one word agin h i she was an angel—you shouldn't spe: mn, let us have the § lent for a moment. [ma ful attempt to twist a toothpick into of the letter Q. MePhilter tapped er nervously on the railing and looked vaguely into the distance. Clearly Th subject, so T 1 an opportuni id, vather abruptly : to change the ‘Have you seen Jumbo?” “Oh, darn Jumbo,” he responded impatient- “Major, you don’t scem to understand me, Why, here I have known you for fifteen years, but you don't know the kind of man Fam. 1 mean to say I will not give up te th troubles. I see men all up, What do I do? hand on the ‘Job ly. around me giving I goto them. I put my shoulder, just that way, and I , itwon't do, Don't give up to this foolish idea of cheering the spirits up by pouring spirits down, It only makes matters worse—it is folly of the rankest possible kind.’ Sam, two more this way.”) Secing that he was determined to talk ou the subject, I suggested: “Bat, after all, a man don't care to look back on the old days.” “Oh, stuff an’ nonsense; m: to think—to look back; let him look forw'd; press right on to the great and glor’us futur’. comicbooks.com