Judge — August 12, 1882 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

A SABLE PHILOSOPH a We al b truck doren yere, note how to keep ev TWO “LONELY” HEARTS. * ABSENCE MAKES THE Ut ART GROW PONDER” « Dearest Carter,” she wrote In her letter, +h, you don’t know how lonely I be Now without you, my fond little hubby, Asl er down by Lest you m And have not a friend nig) Through the hours you Wy My absence inade lone!” After mailing this dolorous missive, Then she rigged herself up in high style, d paraded a Lon plaza, Her itlumed by a smile, As she hung on the arm of a masher, And ba-babed, and lisped in his ear, + T've sent the old fogy a letter Telling him I'm so lonely down here.” i visa, th the shadowy trees that were waving— Lo! amidst Central Park's lovely spot— The “old fogy,” that * fond little hubby * Was out driving a pacer red hot, psconced by Ay, a blonde, bi as Tiffany’s gold, And he looked aught but + ill”—the old fc Or bereft of a “ friend” who console his side «at a maiden— Oh, this drive is 0. K.1" coed the b “It is just the boss pienie for me, And you bet it goes ‘bead of a trip to Any crowded warm roost by the The “old indorsed her opinio’ Sayi s the feast of his life; Then he lit a cixar for the blonde with A mateh and that note from his wife! —xorsin, z yes, “t Lolling in e Hammock. BY BRICKTO?. On, so nice! yum! How near heaven it is to lie off in your hammock, embowered by wide-spreading and low-sweeping trees, with the moon peeping down through the foliage in itregular patches of light, and the cool evening zephyrs toying with the hyperion locks of your bald-head, and the tuneful mosquitoes singing lullabys around you as though anxious to be one of In other words, yum, yum, THE JUDGE. the kindly combinations of nature and art to rock you into a state of beatitude and for- getfulness! Pshaw! I started out to make a poem of this: a bit of picturesque rhythm that should mark me as a favored son of the Nine, and cause my name to go thundering down several ages, but I find the subject too lively for me to wrestle with, too transcendental, so to speak. Some other favored son of a nautical cook with more sinewy stretch of the imagination will have to take it up and go thundering down to the waste-basket. But the reader is probably not interested in this, and as my great ambition is to be interesting, I will leave out the poetic part of this loll, and get right down to the hard-pan of the subject and make it pro: Without bein; that this lolling a country moonlight is something to be con- tented with, something away up. One can forget everything or cogitate, pro- vided the mosquitoes will permit him to do so. Probably on this account one might for- get or cogitate better if he lolled in a ham- mock during the winter months. But let me forget all but what is enjoyable. Oh, how gloriously calm! How gently back and forth the netted snspendary swings! ntastically the leaves dance before the nt sky at the irregular opening in the overhanging trees! a bit poetic, I can safely say in a hammock in the calm of What figures the imagi- nation casily pictures among those light- relieved branches! What a kaleidoscope—if you have only got the proper amount of imagination. The breath of flowers and other things comes to me on the evening zephyrs. A mutter from the adjacent hen-coop tells of trouble in the egg factory, or that some eckled matron is talking in her sleep. And those voices of the night! how they help to lullme. The crickets chirp some- where, and the shard-boned beetle with his y hums bobs awkwardly among the nches overhead, and fin down and crawling sluggishly around for somebody to step on. ‘Then the katydids and tree-toads burst into song, and a bleat from the sheep-fold, or a grunt from the porkery, or a lonesome lowing from the barn-yard, tell- ing of unrequited love or an unsatisfactory day's feeding, join in the chorus of these voices of the night as one hears them while lolling in a hammock in the country. For the time being forgetting the world, and by the world forgotten, how delicious is all this!’ How—confound it, there must be birds roosting in this tree!—but to resume. How much real comfort tothe square inch of anatomy can be squeezed out of a short hour in this suspended netting, and—I came very near swearing then, and I certainly shall if 1 box my nose so hard again while trying to change the shape of a mosquito. But to resume, If I could swap this for elysium I—what’s that? By Jove, a full- blooded, over-ripe cherry has fallen on my shirt front! My only shirt this side of my home in the city. Wonder if I can find a piece of chalk anywhere? Why had T not shes by tumbling been more open-mouthed bosomed? But to resume. How I am to be envied by those of my friends who cannot leave New York! Their mosquitoes are not half so large | as mine. Mine are large cnough to be rea- soned with. I reason with them by building a corn-cob fire under my hammock. They know at once that they are not wanted, and they go. Sodo I. Cob smoke always did disenchant me, and not so open- Dickie Got the Prize. A COUNTRY schoo!-marm, wishing to display her juvenile pupils, natural abilities and pr ress under her tuition, in the art of com- position, before the School Commissioners | and others who were to assemble at the finish- ing exercises in her school, so a few days | previous to the latter event she bade all the pupils sit down and write a nice short com- position on the simple subject, ‘* What I See,” which composition she announced would have — | to be read without being previously examined | or corrected by her, by the writers themselves, out loud before the audience. After she had finished delivering said order, a little tow- headed urchin popped up out of his seat and tearfully exclained: “1—I—c-can't write no conpesitching—so—I—I can't—I—I don't | know ho-ow !” “Nonsense !" cried the teacher. can, and you must! Haven't you got see 7” she inquired. “Yes-sm !" blubbered the boy. “Well, then,” she added, “just sit right down, and write about everything you look at | till you come to the end of your sheet of paper.” ‘The boy reluctantly set about to do as he was bid, and suflice it to say that his teach- | er’s regret at thus compulsorily testing his | visual powers, coupled with her state ofem- | barrassment, was superlatively awful when she heard him read on the day of the closing exercises, before the crowded school-room, in aclear, loud voice, his composition, which was spelled and written thus: “wort te “Lekos ise got 2 bigs ise. 1i bees abloo ian so | bee de udder. ie a bigy red bug, butt shaw, dair itts gon agin, butt no taint needar, fur now i ¢ it a krollin round de fr pw i dont ¢ datt bu; moar, but I doo ¢ mi teechur jump up | on har cet an scrattsh hur hoopskurt arfful! an mak red facis att de hull skoole jiste kos mibbie datt buggs a bitin har whair i cant c. ¢ hur hecknin ta nansie smitt tu kum up tu hur dese, an now i see nansie a chokin hor fistt cleen down inside off de teechars bak waste, an now i ¢ nansy a yankin up datt red bu all squashed ta now | kantt © no moar fur f billee hunksis bigg baks in fruntt off me “DIKKIE DINKA" “You pyes to ge of de teechurs dress. Notwithstanding his teacher's angry pro- test against Dickie getting the prize for the best composition, the School Commissioners — | and audience unanimously awarded it to him, ° ADELE. Tue book reviewer is always in a critical condition. | Newspararr rumor: In China gray shirt. | ings are unchanged, We always thought Chinamen a very dirty people. comicbooks.com