Judge — September 29, 1883 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

uchers also miss f idlesse lit sail Fiddeless, wk shirking— Udazs igh for ame neh sor teachers! th May tempt thent all But summer he nd» And 1s back tow walkl time ing An Essay on Music. NOT AT ALL BY Di. STAINEH. Lave heard, or Pve read ach person resi a musi Though ignorant of music, I This statement to put to 4 ps I'm studying musie by pniar a You'll hear the result ina very: sl These semibreve nims T feel for the children, poor haple With their poor little brain While try The nents of tr 1 could distract There are flat notes ands and low * Accidentals ” Bat I think I've Which the musical But not . A wretchedly low and u And my knowled T must Wh or ebe somebody wrote a ving my best tical test; Hine time. [vers; and crotehets and qua. young shavers! ars in a muzz! to master so complete x puzzle le and plac Arp ones bigh ones . one’s nothing, | know; ¢ must be that A Flat.” wer, liscovered my no on Id soon make n rung semiqu fast to an end, ver: s com all my notes to am fro sical friend, «sweet melodies driv my poor weary soul ry crochet and quaver, and give me t In one al strain, like a swift-running rill, Which flows, rises and falls, at her own happy will, And I lose the distinctions of bar and of Ii But I know this, the key note ‘The music is in her, the air and the time, And it falls on my ear like a sweet, tender rhyme; And loving the gift that her bright nature gave her, Tat once forgot every crochet and quaver. “Ocn, if yez war ar only boardin’ hotel, Biddy, ye’d hay’ the foin crame at ivery male,” said one | another. “Och, Faix ¢ whole nd mine, ever mine, at our vice 's maid to n’ is it only oice crame yez hav? thin we hay’ billy ant on our all the whiles; an’ it’s shtutl’d wid aiten’ em I am.” shure “Wits vex be afther takin’ yer pertaters lyin’ aisy (Lyonnaise)?” asked an Irish wait- er ofa guest of the ationality, ata Rockaway hotel table. Yis,” replied the latter, indig “ shure it bain't shtirrin’ about I'd be em, ye spalpeen!” ane ntly; niten Witat is most productive of mal-aria? squeaky-voiced soprano. THE JUDGE. BACK TO SCHOOL, At Twilight. ntle breath ste and wreathes its sober With frisky grace and when the leaves in mi rt eo wit over th inien in rippling smil it whi tree they danc while the tuneful birds re music, ‘The lazy boats tide seem scarce to move ness Is on every side, as if from ont the sky i had fell, and firmly bound nits languid spell. all life. But mes forth, her a-crab net in her hands ant her head, her above her knee walks alone, and heed- not the evening’s wanton breeze, she wides the shallow depths along; anon her net flaunts, cares the preda erabs from out their hidden haunts. ( What’s that? A seream! Another, She move. ts! Her hat flies off; down goes the net; toward the shore she darts! “What dire distress? What monster It is not that? Ah! no. A hungry has hooked its claws upon her tender toe kM. conc chirpi the ebbi pon the sands a ma Wie Woes ol Her big straw hi she ory Sev Ir is rumored that Wendell Phillips is writing a war song in commemoration of the Federal triumph in the last rebellion. he has done nothing but grant and growl at our institutions and their methods ernment ever since he was old ¢ grunt and grow], the country will have to accept his Phillip-pen present with as much grace as possible of Noul der SINCE the ment to the w zone any change, genus. Whereas "> comfort in a dove, most of his nowadays find their greatest lark. time 1 man’s attach scondants comfort in « Wurat special shell do tourists bring home from the sea-shore? Satchel. but not good- id after strapping his heir to bed. «Goon night, fathe: Many a pious mariner don’t anchorite. | An, days of tender in How clearly Tren How certai Wo And The idling of vacat Would bear its fated fr Of frequent Huetuati 1d open yw, with equtal certainty, “term” A Farewell to Death. nof old we With a sweet though When we knew the tears that started, Each for each, should dry again; Not as when the blue sky Held apart our waitin Ah more dark and lonel Death’s dark wave—between us rolls. arted, udsome pain, Not in garments have they decked thee To pursue rthly track, From whe > we might expect thee ‘To our fond hearts coming ba Ah! there speaks no home retur In thy folded robes of snow: Quenched must be the chlight’s burning In the death-mist dark and low, Never, through the mist of Shall my fond words come to thee, Nor thy heart, on sun-lit pay Send a greeting home to me. Oh! to breathe one word of sorrow To thy spirit far awa Oh! to sce thy face to: morrow, Even as it looks to-da ges, Farewell, now!—there’s no c: In this heavy gloom and fed Fond embrace and farewell ble Sink in doubt and darkness here. God be with thee! lost and dearest, While I struggle here behind; on to me thow'rt still the nearest In my midnight dark and blind. “ MENRY MORFORD. ing Fashion Notes. <Wurte is We have shirts. “Shot silks and satins will rage in the full. will shot hats and shot guns, ¥ for women have been re- havea * faint ” objection to this. ut shoes and slippers, a dark red is the prevailing color.” It has sup- planted * crushed corn * The latest Brooklyn Br Bridge Horror. «Belts are worn narrow.” The cireum- ference dey nds on the narrowness of- the wearer’s mind.” CHAS. F. LUMSUS, very much worn just now. observed the same fashion in our ts vived.” “In | re in design of the Ag Another » ** Brooklyn comicbooks.com