Judge — April 26, 1884 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

THE JUDGE. THEY ARE COMING TO. Q\\\\\" 10) u.\\\ ry \ IN CASE THE JUMBO SCHOONERS GET ANY LARGER. “You ruffian!” I exclaimed. ‘‘ Well, I’m glad to know all about it, and very glad to get my watch.” “ Where is it now, sir?” he asked. “In my pocket,” I answered, putting in my hand. Gad, sir, it was gone again. The fellow grinned and showed it up, sayin “Should have another reward now, sir?” I couldn’t but laugh with him as I put back the watch, and then he went on and told me such tales of things he had done, that I never spent a better half hour, or felt at once more horrified and amused. At last I gave him % more, and sent him off. He was not two minutes gone, when I bethought me to look for my watch. Gad! sir, it was gone again—watch, reward and all—and I never set eyes on it or the fellowsince. And I guess I never will. A Specimen Bigot. I sap I wouldn't go, that I had not been brought up in that way; but at last I was persuaded to see Mr. Broadrib—alias Henry rving—and I wonder, not that he is so eat an actor, but that he is no greater. the news of “America,” as the United States is called in Europe, which is usually compressed into a few lines in the news columns and commented upon editorial lucidly as to secure the immediate rece; of the comments in the departments of our papers devoted to ‘‘ Fun for Everybody,” or ‘Jokes by the Way,” now swells out’ upon occasion columns long in the English all about Mr. Broadrib, what the critics say of his roles, what he says of how he feels himself for the first time so far away from home, what they said he says, and so on ad nauseam. England, from bishop to bootblack, is all agog to read the items of the great man’s success, Now, one who has been trained from his youth to regard the stage as an abomina- tion in the eyes of the righteous, and a play actor as having the smell of brimstone upon his garments and like unto the Man of Sin himself, with seven horns on his forehead, and each horn bearing acandlestick, may pardoned if he be dazed to see Mr. Broadrib pirouetting so complacently upon the top of the highest pinnacle of social success, and if he inquire, with anxiety, where the next attack will come upon the sanctities of his cherished beliefs. Bemp-rne-ar O1p Bor. In what tone does a ghost speak? Ina tombs-tone. Don't. “WHATEVER you're going to do, don’t do it.” That is always the directions I give to my children, and I generally find it works the best. ‘Tommy wants to salt the coffee, put gun- | powder in the candle, and pins in the seats | of the chairs, and cobbler’s wax in the backs. Kitty wants to empty the powder box on | the top of her mother’s best black Sunday go-to-meetin’ bang, and rou; 8 with her ma’s red paint. Why, even Baby herself wants to swallow my heavy gold chronometer, when she is most specially told she is only to digestion. "Whatever you're going to do, dont do it.” That is precisely what I said, in a solemn tone, to my wife on Thursday. Glad I did, for she told me since she was just on the point of cloping with Augustus Doolittle, of the 7th reg’t, but my solemn tones de- tained her. Glad I spoke. “Whatever you're going to do, dont do it.” She said it to me, nd I didn’t—don’t you mind what it was— and I know. “So poor Bill Stubbs is dead,” said a Louisville man on the train the other da “Yes, I understood so. happen?” “In Cincin “Did you learn any of the 2 a hing, except that he died a natural death “Ts that so? Why I was told that he was knocked down on the strect and had the life beaten out of him.” “Well, that’s what they call a natural death in Cincinnati now.”—Merchant Trav- eler. “WELL arrived Ameri “It’s a foine counthry, sor.” “Have you succeeded in getting work yet?” 0, Sor; but I havea friend in Wash- ington who is afther getting me a pension.” —Philadelphia Call. Pat,” was asked of a recently migrant, “and how do you like Accomodating. A TRAVEL-STAINED tramp called at the se of an old negr “Oh, yas. Dar’s de pile an’ yande’s Jes he’p yesse’f.” The tramp after chopping for about a half- hour went to the old negro and said: “Well, I’m done.” “Done chopped ez much ez yer wants ter, is yer?” «Tye chopped enough, I thin “Uh huh, but doan be no ways back’ard "bout it. Jes he’p yesse’f, an’ recolleck dat when yer wants ter limber up yer j’nts, here’s de place whar yer ken fin’ ‘commodation.” “But I want something to eat. That’s why I chopped the wood.” “Yer didn’t say nuthin’ ’bout dat. yer wanted to chop wood.” any time an’ git somebody to eat. Good day, sah. Recolleck, dar’s allus a ax heah at yer ’sposal, sah.”—Arkansaw Traveler. Said I ken go out THE HEAD-WAITER—a barber. comicbooks.com