Judge — May 17, 1884 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

THE JUDGE. awkward, but fortunately it was all in the family, and an explanation set everything right. It was all their fault, he said, for MacOprtic’s Ipga or Yes. not knowing their own minds, or rather how to give expression to their minds by the facial muscles. They knew better now, he added; und he begged me to take his word for it, that ‘faces will converse more freely and fluently than tongues in the near future, and more reliably, for the face will not lie as readil the tongue—except, of course, women’s faces, and they never tell the truth anyhow.” ‘These are MucOptic’s words, not mine. —_— “Tris very strange, that about John L. Sullivan's néw baby,” exclaimed Stubbs, as he looked up from the paper he was reading. “What is there strange about it?” asked his friend. ‘* Why, that they should allow him to follow the trade of his father.” “What! Youdon’t say? Why, howdo you know?” «Oh, Iam confident. Even now they are initiating the little fellow into one of the very first degrees of the prize ring.” “I don’t understaud. How have they done it?” “They have made a bottle-holder of him," replied Stubbs. — Bradford Sunday au, 5 Courtship. I—sxrnaisi On, stately little maiden, So thoughtful and so true, I sce my blissful Aiden Within your eyes of blue; My heart is over-ts With longing love for you, Oh, sweetest little maiden, So thoughtful and so true. len I—rrorosat. Were I your husband, dearest, And you my ‘little wife,” We'd be to each the nearest And dearest friends in Our days would be the c Of clouds and weary strife— Were I your husband, dearest, And you my darli fe. est The Tide of Affairs. My dear children, I shall open this highly influential discourse on The Tide of Affairs, by telling you all about the Domestic ‘1 Mrs. Abijah Bijinks accosted her bet one clear May morning as follows: wish you’d come home in good season this evening. I have some little work about the house which will require your assistance.” “All right, my love ; ta-ta;” said Bjinks as he tripped ‘down the steps blithely, flinging a kiss back ashe went. Poor man! Little he knew of the terrors which awaited him upon his return home. His soul wasas calm asa plate of pork and beans, and he wot not of the multifarious calamities which the next few hours should bring forth. Upon his return home, his wife met him with a beam- ing countenance and a smile. She locked her arm through his and led him into the parlor. ««T want to take the carpet up to-morrow, and i¢ must be taken down to-night.” Bijinks had read about these things, and he eaid it was all an infernal lie. It was mere foolishness for a to lose his temper over such a simple affair. Me dragged a chair out, and leaving a towel upon it to protect the brocade satin, got upon the chair and —the frail thing’s legs wabbled, cracked and gave out at last. Mrs. Bijinks helped her hub. up, and rubbed the back of his head with arnica. “It’s nothing, my dear, only a bump—” “T tell you I feel my blood and brains running down my spinal column,” cried Bijinks. “Oh, love—that’s only the arnica—”” “Get me the ste ladder and a hammer,” he interrupted. ile crawled upon the step- ladder, raised the hammer to smite the thing apart when the hummer flew off its handle and crashed through a $250.00 mirror. He flung the handle from him in anger and it landed upon his faithful spouse’s nose. “You hateful, ugly thing you! You’rea perfect maniac when you get mad. You've cut agash in my lip,” she cried, mopping her face with a 840.00 table spread in her excitement. “Broken bones or not, gashed noses or not, this measly thing’s got to get down or TV'll know the reason. When Abijah Bijinks gets upon his car—something’s got to part,” yelled the tyrant. He clasped his arms about the thing and tugged until he pulled himself off the lad- der. There he hung in mid-air with his long legs dangling: to and fro, and with hia arms wound round the thing, hanging on like grim death to an African. he'll be killed— “Oh, oh ! he'll be killed, come quick, some one—” “Shut up, woman; I'm monarch of all I and more too. I'll explore this up- per regions if I have to sacrifice every insur- ance policy on my hide. You just take the back room and give the elephant room to swing his pins. Toop la—look out—here I come! The spirit of determination rang in his he hung there like some acrial cir- r. He skinned the cat two Drew himself upand chinned ht or ten tim nd sung out: “ Splendid, Bi ‘The thing’s giving way now. Keep it up and you'll have the thi down ; only mind, don’t kick off the alabas- ter vase on the—oh ! Lord, there it goes, and dear mother gave it to me—” “T wish it had been your mother instead out Bijinks, as he wound his leg over the thing and straddled it. “ Be careful when it comes dear, The rest was lost ina wild chaos of flying glass, china, bric-a-brac, pictures, wax flow: ers, stripped pants, sawing arm: mong all of which a battered nose, split lip, skinned chin, blackened eye and bloody ears shone in terra cotta distinctness. The oceans of arnica, and sheets of cotton batting, the quarts of glycerine and gruel and goft spoon victuals consumed by the victim were won- derful to behold. You ask what it was all about? Bijinks tackled the stove-pipe, that’s all. Diary of Patrick O'Callahan, Car- Conductor. May the furrust.—It’s wid a sore hed an’ an aiking hairt thet I set mesilf down to pin the lasht wurrudd uy me dhiary. Yis, me dhiary is indid, an’ me loife as a eair conducthor has come to’an ind, an’ that troo no fault uv me own. It’s all on account av the quanane thet oi’ve laitly been in the habit uv taikin, for the misery thet do be forivir in me brist. Maggie, me woife, culd nivir foind it in her phroud hairt to blaime me fur this, for if her sister’s furrust cousin’s husband, the aldherman, foinds relaif in the bitther shtuff, why shuld not I, his constitooant, take the same rimidy mesilf. Maggie says it’s the whisky she do be for- iver ehimellin on mo brith, bad cise to the dhruggist t! ame for pure quanane, and it’s roight oi’d be to prosacute the haythin apoticairy for the loss uv me cair an’ me position, at wan and the same toime. It was on the aivning uv the twinty-aith day uv the month just indid, that I tuk an exthra doas av me bitthers befoar I shtarted on me lasht trip for the noight. Me dhriver, Timothy McFudd, had a cowld an’ a cauf thet was loik to tare the liver out uv him, so he and I togither tuk occasional nips from the bottle thet I carried in me pockit, and az he sed the midicine did him u wurtuld ay good, it was not for Pathrick O'Callahan to denoy a sufferin fel- low chrayture the consolaition of a dhrop or two av a rimidy so hairmlias and safe. By and bye 1 notissed thet Tim was not payin’ the shtrict attintion to dhooty thet the law requoired and befoar we raiched thirty-foarth shtrate he hed run over a small choild, and chrayated no ind uv @ commo- tion. ‘¢ Wan uv the foinisht” shtepped oop, and afther shpakin a few wurruds hearristid me dhriver on the shpot. «« Fwhat’s to become av me cair,” says Tim. comicbooks.com