Judge — November 18, 1882 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

4 TO MY PARROT. On, bird of plumage glorious and rare Swinging with lazy motion to and fro, Dost thou not pine to breathe the fr Of thy rich tropic home of long Dost thou not long to Thy worse than orphaned fedgelings, Mourn bitterly thy sad and cruel fate In a luxuriant island far awa Or dost thon not, since thou canst not be free, Dany subject give a single thought Content to munch the succulent gober-pea And mumble o'er the quips thou hast been tauzht * ‘oor captive !—Dut I'll grant thy 8 nd with emphasis— re thy love-lorn mate, who t The Retribution of Crime. BY JOHN BLACKBRIDGE. HEY met on the border of a large and ominously dusky cloud, on which I failed to observe a silver lining; quite on the borders of planetary space. ed appearance, and evidently were not py. You might have thought they had be fired out of or from Democratic Primary, or had come in from an unsuccessful study of President) Arthur's policy, or had been betting on the wrong side in the Oho election. pamons in misery, and, as such, they soon began to exchange cond “The rules up there, They wore a disappoint. cannons, bounced They were com- ices, said one of the crowd, ‘are much stricter than they used to | be. Why, in my grandfather's time St. Peter used to exelude only the very toughest such as had figured as defendants in breach of promise suits, and brag; four-pound trout. My grandfather! was an army sutler of the worst kind, and he got in, and no questions asked. My father was a sewing-machine agent, and he got in on con- ditions; but here [ am, bounced, an Peter has warned me not to apply again for a hundred years, ‘till the foul deeds,’ ete, (see Hamlet). And yet my trifling. “What did you do?” asked the crowd, ** 1 was an advertisement solicitor for the Trombone of Independence. We printed one copy for each advertiser, and several others for the proofreaders and editors, besides a dozen exchanges; and the crime for which I am now shut out from the golden gates was that { stated the circulation as a little less than ninety thousand copies. This, St. Peter says, under the new Code, is a felonious mal- versation of philology in the first degree, and { get a hundred years of waiting in the brigorific planetary spaces for this breach of the statutes. ‘Ignorance of the law excu: ne,’ says St. Peter, ‘and since Governor Cornell failed to veto the new Code, we must be bound by it, Call the next case.’ And so I lit out, and here I am.” “Your lot is indeed a sad one,” said a loud-voiced party near him, “* but not so as mine. aes, St sins were no Iwas an auctioneer, and gave heavy bonds to the State, signed by my por- ter and office-boy. My specialty was rare oil-paintings, bric-a-brac and articles of vertu. When I put up a cracked blue teacup I never called a first bid short of ten dollars, and was about catching | THE JUDGE. sure to knock it down to some wealthy lunatic at fiteen, The first bid was fictitious, of e¢ but that is only a harmless Hightoftancy. St. Peter, it seems, thinks ditfcrent- ly. He has had a special statute passed just such hereafter if | cer expects t the R. H., he must wait for straight-out, square opening bids, Meantime [have got a hundred and twenty-five years of go- gainst doings, and auction- in at xet ing, going, among these damp and disagreeable clouds, and no prospect of a lively, | rattling sale during all that tim gone, up A profound silence now fell upon the motley as- semblage as an individual struggled up who appear- ed to have lost his last friend, aud on whose linea- ments despair sat throned. en” am eternally | ished, and it se right, too,” shricked | wretched outcast, absolutely no While I survey from afar the shining plains, stud- ded with perennially v dant groves, — through which walk the good and the incorruptible anti-monop ohsts, ail the defunct Judges of the New York City District’ Courts, 1 must eternally bosom of ban- rves me the There hope. happy comic editor clasp to my vip the gnawing A NEW remorse, and - clank the everlasting chain that binds me to infamy. M = indeed a crime of the deep- dye. You remember that at a certain all jokes on the mother-in-law and the Chicago female foot were called in. The world had had along, long, weary pelting with them, Lit was demonstrated that either this must stop or the planet would rush frantically from its orbit. ‘The poor old jokes, too, had fared badly and nec far back in the lacustrine pe antiquarians insisted, in the s when man lived in caverns, and had nothing to | read but the N.Y. Evening Post, they had been handed down from century to century, from Rameses to Pharaoh, from Pharaoh to Toth, from Toth to Cambyses, from Cambyses | to Cyrus, from Cyrus through an almost infin- ite series, till finally they were called in and died, in a periodical not wholly unconnected with the Teutonic clement. Yet after that I madly, wickedly and feloniously revived these fearful jokes on the matters aforesaid, \ and dared to send them to a comic editor ! wa epoch . Originating nd, or, as some one age, PRINCH PLAT" IN SHANTYTC Can wonder that Iam wo inhabit omy realms forever, and that I realize that my punishment is just?” He ceased, and slid away into the oute darkness, but just as its s! on you doomed lowy doors wer him, the arm of the editor of Drawer” was linked in his, a called out into the night, “ Me singe * Harpe hollow voie Too,” and both the grizzly phantoms van ished. A THOUGHTFUL mind can but be impressed by the frightful progress that the disease called kleptomania is making. It pervades alike all classes and conditions of society, from the pagoda of poverty to the office of the million aire, and if we get a chance at the bow-legged son of an unrepentant buccaneer who got away with our best exchanges yesterday, w try to make it pleasant and Oriental for him, Hestise in the wrong cemetery for the head-stone of adeparted friend, would natu- rally be called a grave mistake. comicbooks.com