Judge — October 13, 1883 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

a aS “ May Tsay, Mrs. Ry finest looking corpse 1x “ You've a sweet spot in your heart, Mr. ever seen.” Summer Nobility. TALK of nobles, blue bloods, and every other type of self-s ristocracy—well, Long Branch took the ‘ watermelon,” as the coons say, for their “distinguished presence” the past season. Why, they were so plenty there that even the most careful chiropodist, mean- dering about the beach or hotel piagzas, could avoid the treading on their : cratic corns. At one special hotel in ron, there was a “genuine” English lord, but only the Lord knows how he ever be- came a lord; however, carried this title about with as apparent case asa jolly Teuton often does a half brewing of lager. Every one of the guests fawned on or about hit in short, life was as sweet as a roseleaf to his lordship until on 1 day he was rudely ac- costed by a Jersey constable with a bill from his impatient laundri one a cruel plebeian, whose wnappreciative hands and washboard had already rubbed out his blue-ink coat-of-arms from the spinal col- umns of his solitary white shirt, now in cus- tody of the const “Look a-here!” cried out the latter, gi bing the “lord” who trembled like a potato rind stirred by the earthquakic sneeze of a passing cartman it reclines in the mo- saic confines of a garbage barrel—“ if you FRIENDLY SYMPATILY i i) re, that your hushand Daniel makes the don’t settle at once for the washing shirt, I'leoop von in. quicker'n a w resiiirtche mol, the poor obility then ran his royal paw into luroy. frousers’ pocket and slowly wht up from thence what apparently | seemed to ancient. quid of tobace “There,” said his lordship with stu athos—three of his front teeth havi nocked out by reason of hiss at another hotel—“sirrah, instead o money, ac aw-pwesent to-aw m) laundw iceless little amulet which-aw-descended to me fwom a long line of my relations-aw,—old kings, you know- | “Old kings be scratched! It’s a wonder | to me, that a clothes-line of shirts never | descended to ye from yer long string of old kings. Strikes me t ful to ye than yer d Ilere now,”he continu mir plant out the corn for this yer shirt, or come along with m : “Oh! give me the lord. The proprietor of the hotel, who, together with a veracious New York Tribune report- er had created this lor me to his re: and settled with the cruel Jersey official, while a crowd of the lord’s ly admirers, ck my-aw-shirt,” wept | ighte , wearing Lang- ollars stamped hed the released shreds, and di- | souvenirs of their immediately sna it into small them for seen of this distinguished hotel advertisement he wes trying to beat his way to New York on the ** Plymouth Rock.” ADELE. i The Siren's Wedding Ring. | Wiere the river's mimic billows | | | Darken “heath the drooping willows That i With the water a Where th Casteth OF the leaflets yfully coquettin ithe | glimmer All the harvest kr Wooed her ly Fairer s Anc wssembling trembling. Day by day the But her eves we Day by day the ery omy hee tears it tribute drew— And. whene'er a wooer sought her, She would show the ny water: Pointing where a trans quiver, Like a diamond, sparkled throug Saying, “ Yor er rin st all pure rom the river ooze beneath. And each knight, his soul made braver | y the promise of her favor, | her siren whisper listenin , nan—and be wedded, imbedded, and glistening, ght t th, | Som Follo . nerved on by wild affection, | dd down the bright reflection; he amulet, and bore it, And the ring and swimmer sank, Still, they say, the stream ntin Where th Still our br maid doth linger with beckoning finger, water treacherous lustre shone; t come to woo her— Fewer now, and waxing fewer— For she sends them down to slau And the work of death goe ter, Pensive by the willows leaning, * nd. meaning, And my thoughts are dark and bitter, And ‘as chilling as the st ren whisper hearkenit Tho’ the waves above are darkening, Men still sec Iden And would rea dream. ©. u. sEssor. A TirrsitiNe machine—the old woman’s slipper. | Tne prize fighter is ple to produce strik- | ing effects. NX xopeny lock’s-myth—a woman’s hair. comicbooks.com