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

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

| | | THE JUDGE. THE THOUGHTS OF SPRING. r'S FURNISHING GOODS 1232! The poets say, in Spring time the thoughts of young hearts lightly turn towards love. We do not wish to disagree, but the thoughts of the average young person now-adays turn towards the above necessaries. those games here, as they go through my head.” My grandmother's favorite joint was a baked loin of mutton, as she had a special partiality for the tail end, when nicely rowned. She always carved this joint her- self, and commenced by cutting off the afore- said dainty morsel, which she then handed to her trusty old butler to be kept warm and crisp in the plate warmer, while she served the remainder to the party. How careful she was to have her choice tid bit done to a turn! “John have you my tail in the plate warmer?” “Yes, mam.” “Tg it browning, John?” “Yes, mam, browning elegant.” “Take care of it, John,” and then finally, with a sigh of relief that spoke volumes of hope deferred, ‘* Now, John, you may bring me my tail.”—— Dear grandmother, how I shall miss you, your quaint sayings, your pleasant smiles, your plaintive sighs, even your gentle little reproof and lectures. “Dear Charles, I hope you have not learnt to chew cigars, and smoke that horrid tobacco, and play with the poker, as I hear fast men do; not that I could ever see the harm of it except that you had a shocking habit of doing it when you were a child, and it always made me nervous and came down with a rattle, and you liked it better than anything I could get for you, even nice religious games, and a set of apostles for playing with on Sunday, when you wore such a sweet, dear, good little boy, and used to say that nice hymn: *T must not steal on Sunday, For that would be a sin; But I may steal on Monday, On Tuesday and on Wednesday, On Thursday, Friday, Saturd: “Till Sunday comes again — and all Dr. Watts, besides, and I don’t know how many more.” Yes, my grannie is dead, but I can not let her memory die, so I hope from time to time to record her many generous sayings and doings, so that her name may yet rank, as it deserves, among those of our celebrated women. Some Presidential Points. Cox: too much point on his tongue. Hendricks: too much point, no point. Gen. Sherman: too much West Point. Gen. Hancock: too much disappoint. John Sherman; the boys think too near the freezing point. Bayard: at the wrong point of the com- pass. Randall seems willing to strain a point to make it. Thurman has no visible point @appui—a cardinal point. Logan can point with pride like no other, and aims at the nomination point-blank— considerable points. Holman’s strongest point is a mero Sun spot, and there never were more than two naked eyes that could see it—a vanishing point. Butler sometimes carries things at the point of the improbable, and sometimes fails at the point of success—unknowable points. ‘Tilden’s backers do in part believe that he has developed altogether too fine a talent for losing the game after making all the points —not a telling point. David Davis leads them all in embonpoint —always a great point. An Ode to Summer. ‘Tue wind is sweetly blowing, And the rivulet is flowing ‘Through the shady, shady wood; While thestorm that is brewing does the old farmer good; For he knows that the rain that is coming Will make things come up a humming. And onions by the dozens To feed the city cousins, Who feel that they are duty bound When the summer comes around To leave the city dirt, And come out of town to flirt With the gay country lads and lassies; And as the lightning flashes As we are standing here, We know that summer now is near. A.D. SUREWsuURY, Wuy does the foreign manufacturer of epigrams fail to rise and tell us that city government in America is a despotism tem- pered by riots and cartoons? Do shell-fish sweat? If not, what in hay D’s is meant by a “clammy” perspiration? And if they do, why has not some inventive genius given us a lobstery perspiration? Tue thrilling story of the dude who was overcome by his trousers and fainted in a Philadelphia street car, together with the learned medico’s explanation that ,it was a case of pressure on the ‘oles visectori ” something, has been printed in innumerable newspapers, but these papers seem to have forgotten that it was their duty to informa non-Latin public that a dude’s trousers pressing on the olexii vivisectori is simply a case of pressure on the brain. comicbooks.com