Judge — October 13, 1883 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

Fair Play. Tue dusty stagecoach through the mountain vil lage lumbered And halted half way up the bill’s inclive; By June’s soft langor overcome, the hamlet slum. bered, And to the strangers gave no welcome sign. No sound came upward from the drowsy village: Our grizzled driver nodded in a doze— There at our feet, the fruit of constant tillage, The whilom wildwood blossomed like a rose; And with the tassels of the green corn growing Down in the vale, the mountain brevzes played; A winding stream down through the fields went flowing, A thread of silver in a green brocade. ‘The sun's bright rays down on the town were stream: ing As sat viewing the bright landscape I woke the driver from his drow And asked of him the name the vi He first, by whip and words the team cajoling, Started the Then as th ch went upward s Thus told the story of the sleepi up the steep road winding down cc sly rolling Well, pard, when first I mined thar‘on the bar with Johnson, In’51, they called it Camp Luray Since Brown, of Montezuma, blew a hole through + Thompson, They've changed its ns Play P| d call it now Fair ™ You see that boulder through them alders loomin’, | Down in the bend thar by the river's « ‘Thar's whar Brown's claim was when the camp was boomin Whar he shot Thompson, in May, pre; “The two were pardners, and their quarrel, bein’ | human, Was caused, as usual, by a pretty face; \ For since that snake had business with the world’s | first woman, They've allers played the Devil with our race. “The year before, they mined on Montezuma Dig gins And Thompson, like most husbands, bein’ blind, Went down the trail to Frisco with a chap named v And left his pardaer and bis wife bebind, * But soon, down to the Bay, thar come to him a | rumor That sent him trav'lin’ home, you bet your life; | For Brown, his pardner, had lit out from Monte- zuma, | And turned up missin’—likewise Thompson's wife. | “Of course it kinder riled him when he found the story He'd heard in ‘Frisco, was a solemn fact; He swore he'd set Brown clim’in’ up the stair to glory— | And Thompson war a man that never backed. “To make a story short, he tracked ‘em a tight year From camp to camp, but never caught his game Until one day he corral’d Brown right here, And got him foul, a-workin’ in his claim. | “ When-Brown saw Thompson had him’ trap'd, he squealed — Held up and yelled, as Thompson told him ‘ pray!" * Don’t kill me like a dog, for I ain't heeled— | For God's sake, pardner, give a man fair play! | as He had the drop on Brown, and mought a-filled him Chock full o' lead, ‘thout givin’ him a sight; | “And so he said, *T hy None would Right thar and thea—but, stranger, Jim was white if believe you're Ivin’; But, howsomever, I'll give you a fair show; Light out for camp, and come back with your iron Quick, before I kill you! D—n you, up and go!” “Brown struck for camp as if the Devil chased him; | You can bet your pile he didn’t travel slow— Froze to his barkers, and come back ani faced him | With iron cocked, and sung out, * Let her go!” “Jim's iron snapp'd —Brown’s didn’t; and when he turned his loose, Shot through the head, Jim Thompson be went down, That night Brown, bein’ feared the boys might cook his goose, Struck for tall timb>r and dusted out o° town— | “And six months after died, of Devils dreamin’, Whar he war minin’, in Yuba over thar; For mor'n a mile che boys could hear him screamin’, And named the camp Delirium-Tremens Bar. “And she? In 53 heard from Baldy Briscow; She lived a life of shame a year or more, ‘Then blew her brains out ina dance-house dive in Frisco, Spang in the middle of the ball-room floor. | The whitest man in all the mines, by half; That stream-worn boulder, that’s his monument to- day— | The camp's new name—well, that’s his epitaph. | “Though Jim war white, he warn’t much when it | come to prayin'— He'll roast in hell, the gospel sharps all say. T think, when Gabr'el comes, on bis old horn a’ playin’, That God will see Jim Thompson has * fair play.” CLARENCE Lapp Davia A River Item. Why, William, where have you been? Your hat’s knocked in, your coat’s torn and your legs are as weak as'a baby’s.” “Ti-ti-irred out, wifey. Been working hard, you know.” “What have you been doing to fatigue m like this?” “Helping some schooners off'n the bar.” “Poor boy! What a good soul you are. Now let me help you to bed. You are in need of rest.” A PARMER living near Reidsville, N. C., brought his little boy to sce the circus. The child had never seen or heard of an elephant, and when he came in sight of Jumbo he screamed to his father: ‘* Lordee God, pap, look at that great big thing that’s got a tail on both ends. ‘T'ake me ousen here fore I’m kilt.” “How-pEE-poo dis mawnin’, Tobe?” “T’se only moddrickly well, brudder Joe. brudder | © Poor Jim lies buried thar, in what was once Luray; | How is your health?” “Tse just reasonably well, tank you. Las? night de ole:’”oman got drunk an’ was outen her senses, 80 she gone an’ stole Miss Mat’s dress and wore it to meeting; now she’s in de callaboose.” Up to snuff—The nose. i comicbooks.com