Judge — April 19, 1884 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

IF INVITATIONS THE JUDGE. THE MODERN INVITATION. TMU FOREGOING ME He sat him down upon a stump, And drew the bridegroom near; And then spake on that aged tar, ‘That bleareyed marin “The Peggy, she was tight and trim, And steady, staunch and true, As any craft that ever sailed Upon the waters blu lown the river's winding stream, All blithely did we drop, A-past the schoolhouse and the church, ‘The mill and blacksmith shop. The sun came up out of the Up from the east came he; It queer had been, now Had he rose differently? Th Had he set otherwise, I think my friend, it sure had been A matter for surprise Id it not, n went down into the west; By night we reached the lower bay, And water bar,” Thus spake the ancient funnyman, ‘That venerable tar, Which shivered every mast we bad, And blew away each sail, The waves arose like mountains high. y roar, And then the pelting down, es, how it did pour! up our little craft, Some useless things were cast Into the waves, then other things Did follow them full fast les and chairs now overboard Were quickly thrown, while we, As sick as any do; Our wittles in the sea. did heave What good w When there was naught to eat? We couldn't live upon our clothes And boots for bread and meat. e chairs and tables now, The water it was everywhere, And lots of drops to drink, H LARGER, G MEN WILL HAV HOD OF CARRYING THEM. RT TO THE But without food ‘twould be no good, Not much, we dido't think. Starvation stared us in the face, Or else a watery tomb, But hunger doesn’t trouble much Men marked for such a doom, Six days and nights we tossed about With rough, unsteady motion; It warn’t much like a painted ship Upon a painted ocean, A porpoise, it had followed us, Throughout each day and nig And gamboled round our vessel's prow, Ina merry, joyous way And it to me seemed very plain, The matter now stood thus A question whether we eat him, Or whether he eat us. So, with my long and sharp harpoon, I killed him him porpoiselay Some said it was a cruel thing, ‘That porpoise for to slay. But ne‘ertheless that sportive fish, We skinned from tail to jaw; We laid him out upon the deck, And then we ate him raw My friend, throughout li I've had hard nuts to ¢: But—blast my ‘The hardest ki checkered course, if he was not d of tack, But that next eve a goodly ship Full down upon us bore, To save us from a cruel death, And bear us safe to shore. That night a piercing wind arose, With mingled sleet and snow, Which froze us to our marrow bones; Great guns, how it did blow! My clothes with frost were crusted o'er, Which sparkled like a star; And that is why I call my tale The Rime of the Aged Tar.” The bridegroom then sped fast away, To wed his bonnie Kate, A wiser and a madder man ‘Than he had been of late. My Sunday Class. *TiLpA SMitH was the first to arrive the following Sunday, and as soon as the child saw me she burst out: “Oh, M Pinalup. here to-day. “Why, dear?” I replied. “We got a new baby this mornin! Pap brought him home from the club. Did you ever have a baby, Pinalup?” ‘* Gracious sakes, child,” I said, crimson- ing all over as I ght Mr. Shaver’s eye. “You must not speak so plainly before peo- ple. It is not nice in little girls. Why will not your brother be here?” 1p, he sent Hunky after the doctor, an’ I think he’s gone fishin’, cause the doctor come before I left hum.” “Well, never mind. Good morning, children,” said I to the rest of the class who had now mbled,” Who knows what the lesson is this morning?” “Paul preachin’ to the jews,” came ina chorus from all save Tommy Dinklemeyer, who was scribling something on a picce of paper torn from the fly-leaf of a hymn-book. “*Pay attention, Thomas. You must not mutilate the church property in that man- ner. It is sinful.” “Yes'm,” replied Tommy calmly as he carefully folded the scrap and then threw it across the aisle to a little girl with an affec- tion of the eyes, who sat grinning at him;” “Paul Pritch, the jew.” “No, it is not. It is about the good man, Paul, who left his home and friends to preach about Jesus to the poor and ignorant of other lands. Don’t you think that was good in him?” “Strordinary,” said Tommy, winking at Tilda Smith. “Say Tilda, my mother says she never saw such a homely piece of smutched dough in her life as that ’ere new babby over at your house.” “Smutched what!” shrieked Tilda, mak- ing a vicious dive at Tommy’s hair, at which Tommy looked frightened and got behind me for protection. Oh, Miss Pinalup, did you ever,” sobbed she, ‘ my dear, dear little brother.” «Thomas Dinklemeyer,” I said severely, “don’t you ever let me hear you use such language again. Don’t cry, Tilda, I will call and see your little brother.” «Tommy ought to be ashamed of his own father,” said little Susy Grimes; “my pa says if he ever ketches him stealin’ any more yellow-dock out of our lot, he’ll scorch him with buckshot.” “Yah,” snickered Tommy, ‘who guy’ rotten eggs to the dominie’s donation?” “There, there, children,” interrupted I hastily, as I saw Susie’s face redden, and eyes flash at some hidden meaning in Tom- my’s words, “If you do not stop such naughty talk T will call Mr. Shaver. - Now pay atten- tion; Paul——” “Dear me, suz,” suddenly ejaculated little Livonia Sparks, one of my very young- est scholars, as her face assumed the most scornful expression of which it was capable; “‘ain’t Tilda Smith jest too awful. As if no one else in the world never had no babies but her mamma, Tildy Smith, you jest understand that my little brother is nicer and sweeter than your little brother ever was, and don’t you dare to speak to meany more.” “You hush up, imperence,” rejoined Til- da, who had been detailing the virtues of her new brother to her immediate neighbors; “you just mind your business, Livonia Sparks. I never did see such a horrid little Hunky wont be comicbooks.com