Judge — September 15, 1883 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

Dastsnrs! sean t Melon-pateh where 1 Hairle which your mo Tions whirl in a vertigo: Eyes to which the lo Cheeks which take “apt tes grow; hectic glow ties: From your ordered wt Go for baldheads, girls—go, got comes in sure enough, for Larry's dhuc-an- sh (the Oirish for parting-drink) h pons so often of an evening, that be the time the raal one come round poor Larry is as full tick already, and scarce able’ to swally put he iver and ys manages, by hook or crook, to git it down anyhow, and then to see him thrying to make a short cut for home (for ‘tis said that the longest way round is the shortest way home) would make a man laugh himself hoarse almost, afther berring his mother-in-law, for he cuts more quare and crooked capers and figgurs than iver our ould tacher, Manus O’Keeffe O’Madigan, whin lecthuring us on jomme- thry long attimpted to figgur out with a lumpof chalk on the clay floor of the little hedge school-hou Ballyflanders, And, more betoken, that same ould peddagog, n—God be good to his poor sowl, 1 and berrid this many a year was jist as well able as meeself, ‘Tim or Larry Hoolaghan, or any one ake a gorlogue of potheen, or moun- tain dew, morning, noon and night, and yit for all that, he lived to be the three score and tin, aceordin’ to Schripthure, and might have lived half as long more, by all accounts, but the ould man’s hart was broke whin th inthroduced their new-fangled, so-called honal school sistum of edycashun into the ould ¢ that they did it to 1 thraitors of the rising ginirashun of Oirish; and sure enough, faith, although as I said before, ould Manus hag been in his grave this many a year, his words have since come out thrue, for luck at the big crop of mane, con- niving thraitors and cut-throats that have rose up in the ould dart since then, and most, if not all of them, have been e in villany and rascality in those Inglish shunal schools, bad luk to ‘em, and may the ould boy himself, with his hoofs and horns, soon and suddent fly away with the govern- ment and their thraitor-breeding schoc blackboords and maps, and everything belonging to them, barring Oireland hersilf, which niver rightfully belonged to the spal peens anyhow. Ah, an’ thim were the fine ould jolly times, before the poor ould coun- thry iver bi ainted with their mis- forthunate s: larning, for thin the hers—like bro- unthry, for he was offen heard to say | Protestants and | THE JUDGE.’ EXCELSIOR.” Ty the limetight’s et Stand the ballet in a re bv fair damsel p On her al just so prehensile toe, in the stalls below dude to serve as beaut But e'en dudes may wiser grow Shake their empty heads—" no, no! | whin both tacher and scholars had nothing | else but sods of turf to sit upon, and an ould weather-beaten thatch roof over their heads, and sumtimes, be my soul, no roof at all, but the roof that God himself made—Glory be to Him!—on fine summer days, in the | dark paynal times, whin some hedge school- masters were hunted like wolves from place | to place, and had to impart nowlege and pathriotism in saycrit places where the so- Jers nor peelers couldn’t catch ’em napping. Sure its little their nashunal edycashun had to do with bould Shane O'Neill, or Red | Hugh O'Donnell, or Emmet, or Wolf Tone, | | or ould Brian Boru, the Brave, himself— God rest all their sowls this blessid night. | And thim wor the min who wor the pathri ots and the fighters, and hated the murther- ing furreners, the Inglish—barring ould | Brian Boru himself, who was before their time, and hated and walloped the Danes in- stead. And God be good to the anshint hedge-tachers also; for they helped to make the hayroes of thim days what they wor, and | no mistake. But going back to Larry Hoo- | laghan, who we left far behind us. I have | ivery rayson to fear that poor Larry is going the very aame road as. ‘Tim Flahartys and | that thru the spreeing and the trubb'e, he will yet, before ong, be brought up with a Now, you Henry Clay, Jr.t H. Cray, dn., Decidedly)—No'p / short turn, and more’s the pity, for the dear- est hope of Larry's hart is, that he will niver be called to his last account ’till he has a chance to strike one parting blow at the bodagh Sassenach Inglish Governmint for the freedom of Ould Ireland. And_now, laving Larry where he is (in some Cherry street sheebang, be, instead of in his bed like a sinsible man), [ will ind this chapter of accidents and other things, jist asauddent as I comminced it, and subscribe myself yours very muchly, THE O'CALLAGHAN, Get a Divorce. Iy my simple tribulation, Dear Jupce, T come to you In search of consolation, And to know what I should do. ‘This summer, when the sunflower Was budding en the dude, Down by the sandy se Where bachelors ar I met an artless maiden, Of tender years and ¢ Who became my theme for dreaming, And the nucleus of my joy. We tittered at the tuble, We caroled in the hall, We clam’d along the beachlet, And hop’d around the ball. At length, one lovely evening, When my head was rather soft, I pop’d the big enigma that fools have pop’d so oft. My little cream proposal Was just the gush of wine, Yet the silly maid believed me, And promised to °. w, the reason why I write you In this trouble of my i sk what is my next move, dear JepGe, T have a wife. Ir you do not bridle your passion it will with you, and you will ride to per- dition. Ir a beggar abuses you do not mind it, for it is only a vague-rant. comicbooks.com