Judge — August 9, 1884 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

would exclaim, “Dear me, how very odd; I cannot remember my maiden name, and ‘no one can or will tell it to me. My dear Victor must think it so strange that I do not know my own name. I do think, Priscilla, if you had ever taken any interest in your poor mother, or in any one but yourself, you would know my maiden name—but ’ you could never forget yourself as I do.” Grandma was persuaded that her Victor was a most attentive and devoted lover—but it alw: seemed to me that, under the cir- cumstances, he devoted a great deal too much time to playing billiards and exercis- ing his trotter, and that grandma was even more than ever dependent on Aunt Prissy for companionship. When the end came Mr, Haughton was not at hand; but Aunt Prissy and I wero with her. We both felt her loss very keen- ly. But I think neither of us could help rejoicing when her Victor gathered up her many gifts, sold histrotter, bought a blac! band for his hat, and returned to England to shoot with the prince, to hunt with the empress, and to drive with the duchess. Grandma, at her own desire, was interred eside the almost irreparable husband, and the Hon. Victor Haughton is now 1 to the wealthy widow of a wealthy rewer in Bristol, and has presented her with the same betrothal ring that grandma wore. She gives musical evenings too, but she remembers her maiden name and has no grandchildren, so I have no doubt will suit him far better than grandma, Jenkins and Martin now openly rejoice in cach other's love, and rule the Fifth Avenue mansion, now my own, Aunt Prissy is high-church and esthetic, but very dear to me still, So I help her to strew sun-flowers on grandma's grave, which is very high art, indeed, the memorial tower being eighty feet high. “Rest quiet cat in peace,” My translation of the Latin inscription. ‘THE END. Monographs. NOVEMBER N Cleveland!” WILL TELL, the old inhabitant mused; And prithce tell me who is he, my lad? Methought I knew the country’s statesmen all, Men who have grandly towered in the nation’s all, And whose names are still synonymously used With ‘nit nd ability. But that name had A dull, unmeaning sound upon my cars. What say you, boy? He the “ coming m Away with idle prating! Talk sterling sense, Or, if purblind with folly’s teachings, get thee hence, * CLEVELAND! And ri Its n with the unsecing mole who rears tless progeny as best it can ar still others, who in turn rear more, Until the husbandman exterminates the pests, Removes their ugly traces from the lawn, And then, with cased mind and smiles reborn, Resumes the labor he enjoyed before. Thus, with upstart statesmen as with pests, ‘This land will deal—and here, I beg you, mark me well— November next will tell your unknown, untried Cleveland's knell. Marcus Aurelius, never tell your girl it is too cool for ice-cream. A lie has short legs and she may catch you with the perspiration oozing out from under your hat before you have safely passed the cream dispenser’s door, A WOMAN'S REASON, Latte Wire.“ Why don't you gather me in your manly arms and carry me into the surf as other men do. their darlings, but you never did have any manners, no-how [Husband wishes in vain for a derrick, or Lulu Hurst’s magnetic powers.] The march to the see—going to the circus, No, my boy, the size of a man’s foot does | not always indicate ‘he generosity of his soul. | ; | his is a stern chace, but I’m bound to beat!” exclaimed the irate parent as he pur- sued his unruly boy, shingle in hand. “Anger is often more hurtful than the injury that caused it.” ‘The man who gave birth to that sentiment never could have owned a corn and have had two-hundred pounds of human avoirdupois carelessly alight upon it. There are times, gentle reader, when only anger expreses the de profundis | of the soul. A young woman in an Ohio town has mar- ried her brother’s wife’s father, and, at last accounts, had nearly gone crazy trying to figure out whether she was her brother's mother-in-law, or her husband’s daughter- in-law, or her own mother-in-law, or her sister-in-law’s mother-in-law, or all four, and if so, what relation her children will be to her husband. “Where were asked one friend o “Out fishing.” “What did you catch?” continued tho first, his lips at the same time shaping them- selves for an incredulous sneer at the answer. W Absolutely, not a thing,” replied the y- ‘ow all day yesterday?” another. second candid! And then he was obliged to call a cab and take his friend home, the sudden shock of a truthful answer to the venerable question having proved too much for him. A woman at Erie, Pa., fell dead from over-exertion while whipping her daughter on Sunday evening. As all works of neces- sity are countenanced on Sunday, we hope no hungry moralist will get up in meeting and attempt to draw an awful lesson from that woman’s de: Nervous Old Lady (to addle-pated nephew) —‘ Now don’t, Clarence, don’t go out in that boat. You know you can’t swim, and if you're upset you'll surely drown.” Tronical Bystander—* Do let the young man enjoy, himeelf, madam." Me wasn’t born to be drowned. s 80 light-headed that a thirty pound shot to each foot couldn’t sink him.” [Clarence suddenly concludes there isn’t wind enough to go sailing, and takes a walk nstead. ] The Post wants posting. The Times still out of joint, The Sun is losing his heat. Truth—what is truth? The Press is flightier tha The Record is * pure, Harper’s still weakly. The Mercury is in tho nineties. The World, the Flesh and the Devil, we believe, are still doing business at the old place. the sword. 8 records go. Wuew do extremes mect—When they go to extremes, comicbooks.com