Judge — June 7, 1884 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

The Light | of His Lifo. Into my life three years ago She came and took a place None else could fill. Ter step was slow And full of gentlest grace. ‘The tender grassblades scarcely broke Beneath her dainty feet; ‘Tho’ ‘twas not oft nor much she spoke, Her voice was low and sweet. Light of the soft eyes dreaming, Grace of the fair young head, "Tis but a cruel seeming, She cannot, sure, be dead. Beneath the ash they laid her; I have not smiled since that Sad day that death betrayed her, My own dear—pu —Cineinnati Newes-Journal. Brother Gardner on Politics. “ Wuat we want,” quietly began Brother Gardner as the meeting opened, “am a President who represents de majority of de people not only in number, but in senti- ment. How shall we git him? Let me gin you de programme: 1, Make a ring of fifty men who have cor- rupt plans to be furthered by a Presidenshul candydate. 2. De ring buysa sartin number of news- peers to manufackture a feelin’, Moncy am used to git de right sort 0° algae to convenshuns. If de delegates can’t git a higher price rf goin’ ober to de odder man, dey stick to deir candydate an’ pull him frew wid a great hurrah an’ sot him up for de people to worship. 5. Den each side starts out an’ proves dat de candydate of de odder party am mean, low-lived and dishonest. 6. By de use of lies, money frauds of de mean It de p8¢ ripshun, one of de candydates am fi y ‘lected, an’ he goes to de White House an’ sots up dar as represen- tative of de great majority of American freemen. “Of all de mean and contemptible things about de American nashun as a race am a presidential campaign. We lie, deceive, ribe, flatter, oppress, an’ if all dis succeeds we swing our hats an’ hurrah an’ call de at- tention of de world to our grand system of gur’ment. From de nominashum of a con- stable to de countin’ of de electoral wote for President we indulge in all dat am mean an’ low-lived, an’ yit we slant our hats ober our ears an’ talk about freedom ob de press, freedom ob de ballot, an’ a republican form | of guv’ment dat outshines de hull world! “Sir Isaac Walpole, if you am gwine to take an active part in de comin’ campaign, prepar’ yerself now by throwin’ to the winds all yer religun! “ Pickles Smith, resolve to become a liar! Judge Cadaver, git yer tongue limbered up to talk slander! Giveadam Jones, see if you can't fit yerself to be a fust-class bulldoze ‘Trustee Pullback, I look to you to bribe sich men as can’t be frightened! Lord Nelson Slabs, stan’ forth an’ tell me dat yer am pre- par’d to write abusive newspaper articles far s0 much money per rod! Waydown Beebe, you am detailed to hire free-born patriots to carry torches an’ hurrah for liberty at so much atorch! Dat’s all. Let us purceed to bizness.”—Detroit Free Press. , bulldozin’ an’ A pivokce lawer in this city advertises “Misfit marriages a specialty.” THE JUDGE. “Tue Lowell Citizen man says that “the dog is not so much below mankind.” He must have seen a young woman kissing her pug.—Phila, Call. BATHING suits more beautifully shocking than ever are announced for the coming season. Something must be done to attract people to the seashore.—Hartford Post. A coustn of M’lle Albani is a waitress in | asmall hotel. It is asserted that she an- nounces “hash” so sweetly that all the boarders feel constrained to order it.—Bos- | fon Post. Wuen is it that a bull rushes? it isthe same time that a mill-de' Hatchet. Where did the cow sliy where the dog sled, Ma Very light colors are chosen for gentle- men’s spring trousers, spring overcoats and scarfs. If some one will invent cloth the color of custard pie he will confer a favor on the sterner sex, now that the picnic season is near.—Brooklyn Times. Perhaps The % Just of course.— Through We have received a spring poem in which the talented author makes ‘ May flowers” rhyme with “whisky sours,” and he wants us to send him $10 for it. So far as out- ward appearances go an editor’s life is a lux- urious one, but he has his trials, he has his trials. — Philadelphia Call. Makrtaes by telephone are becoming fashionable. This a sound idea; particu- larly if the bride eats onions just before the ceremony takes place, or the bridegroom 8 ‘The osculatory feature of a wedding must necessarily be omitted when the parties are married by telephone.— Nor- ristown Herald. Ir would be a good plan for owners of ocean steamers to employ only blind pilots. A man who can see might recognize signals of distress displayed by some wrecked craft and be tempted to go out of his way to render assistance, and thus lose the golden oppor- tunity of making the quickest time on record. —Boston Transcript. Bigos—‘ Did you read that poem in the last number of Paimer’s Magazine?” Fogg— “You know Benzine, the liquor dealer?” Biggs—‘‘ Yea, but what has that got to do with it?” Fogg—‘«Everything. —Benzine sells rum, but never drinks any; I write poetry, but don’t read it. Benzine and | know the evils of indulgence in our own wares.”—Boston Transcript. A Woma Reaso: ent than woman! Look at my husband! his sister before his wife! Look at my brother! In all things he puts his wife be- fore his sister! When in both cases it ought to be exactly the reverse! Now, did you ever hear anything so absurdediy contra- dictory in all your life?” Sir Peter wisely gives in.—London Punch. —*‘ Man more con- Oh, no, Sir Peter! In all things he puts Ovrk ANGLoMANIAC.—He wears a high collar and carries a small cane. He wears tight fitting trousers and carries an _eye-glass on his coat. He wears a broad brimmed high ‘ Darby” hat and wears an expression of distress, He says, ‘ Aw, y-a-a-s, ye know, me boy,” and when he swears he says “demnition and “bloisted ” with an utterly English air that makes a straight haired American sick. We trust he will never so far forget him- self 80 as to make believe he is an American citizen and attempt to vote in this country. Hartford Post. She Didn't Give In. “T’ve had an awful discussion,” said a Boston wife, coming into the room where her husband was, “With whom?” he asked. “With a woman over our back fence.” “What about?” “The functions of transcendentalism; and we talked, and talked, and talked, and talked, and—” “Did she beat you?” “No, sir, she didn’t.” “Did you beat her?” “* Well—no—I can’t say I did.” “You didn’t giv id you?” “No, sir, I didn “You didn’t?” No, sir; I gave out, and I’m just as limpasadish-rag after a hard day’s washing.” And she hung herself over the back of a chair to recuperate.— Boston Courier. ” In His Wife’s Pocket. A frre broke out in a dwelling house the other night, and after the man and his wife had safely reached the street the latter said that there was $50 in the pocket of herdress, which was hanging in a second-story back room. “T'll go for it,” said the husband, and he plunged into the burning building. The flames raged furiously and the man did not return, At the expiration of an hour the fire was extinguished and the back building caved. Firemen groped their way up the rear stairs through water and blind- ing smoke, and found the man in the closet still fumbling at his wife’s dress, lookin for the money. He was nearly suffocated with smoke, but had strength enough to say that he thought he would have found the pocket inside of two hours. It never occurred to him to seize the dress and rush out with that. Some men get so excited and nervous in time of fire.— Norristown Herald. Now the urchin with a hook, Dangling in the babbling brook, Sits with an expectant look, Underneath the broiling sun; From the early morning light Till the darkening shades of night, Waiting for the fish to bite, And perhaps he gets just one. —Boston Post. 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