Judge — September 20, 1884 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

THE JUDGE. ] story before further trouble can arise between us.” And thus, gentle reader, the secret was at last imparted, and two great minds were set at rest. er i" gy GETTING THE DROP ON HIM. ‘ge! A YOUNG LADY WHO RBADS THE PAPERS. Ete (to George, who has just declared himself)—‘‘No; J cannot marry you. But please don't be frightened, I read so many accounts nowadays of rejected lovers shooting their sweethearts that I have merely come armed in self-defence.” Neighbor’s tongues, my boy, are more dan- | erous than a shotgun in careless hands. they can riddle you with more holes of imperfection, on less provocation, than could be plugged up by three ounces of bird-shot from the closest shooting-gun in existence. Twiss—‘‘ Had a good time this summer?” Worley—‘‘ No; deuced hard luck.” Twiss—‘‘ How’s that?” Worley—‘‘Oh! I got engaged to a girl worth $50,000, dropped her for one worth $100,000, and gave her the go-by to marry a widow worth $200,000, which turned out to be all in Confederate States bonds. Say, can you lend me five dollars?” Bat Twiss had vanished. “Here, gimme a glass of champagne, quick!” yelled a wild-eyed stranger as he rushed up to the hotel-bar. “Blaine or Cleveland?” queried the gen- tlemanly wine clerk. «‘ What the devil difference do my politics make to you, sir!” snapped the stranger. «None whatever, only those are our new- est brands of wine, and I simply wanted to know whether you wished a gentleman’s drink, or a starter on a regular all-night- lock-the-door-and-throw-the-key-out—of-the window-drunk!” He took the Blaine brand. 4 TRIUMPH OF GENIUS. Much flesh has its disadvantages. The other day, two of the most prominent mem- bers—in point of size—of the Fat Men’s Club met upon a street corner, and one of the gentlemen had a secret to impart to the other. How to do it without attracting the attention of the passers-by, was the puzzling question, Across the immensity of inter- vening waistcoats a whisper could not be heard, and the gentleman whose over-bur- dened mind required instant relief was reduced to the verge of despair by his futile efforts to make himself understood without raising his voice. Neither possessed a pencil where- with the mysterious tale might find expres- sion on paper, and thus they stood, facing each other, like the mountainous banks of a river, with no means of communication be- tween them. Just as they were about to turn sadl away, baffled and dejected in spirit, a bril- liant idea traversed slowly across the mind of the fat man who was yearning to become the recipient of the weighty secret. “John!” he yelled across the intervening expanse of cloth and buttons. “*Hello, William!” mournfully shouted the other in return. “Turn round with your back to me, and Tl fix it.” “John slowly wheeled his obesity into the required position. Then William turned his ponderous self until his back was oppo- site John’s. “Now, John,” he yelled again, ‘move backwards and I’ll do the same until we meet.” This order was obeyed, and slowly and majestically the massive bodies approached a union. At last they were snuggling back to back, with John’s mouth removed only about @ yard from William’s ear. “‘ Now,” said the latter ina fat and com- fortable whisper, and with a husky chuckle that made him tremble all over like a huge mound of calf’s-foot jelly, ‘‘let’s have the Only a Veto. Oxy a veto! That is all! Sneer it down, if you can; Only a veto! yet it took Rest from a tolling man. Kept him from his laughing babes Until the day had flown— Sixteen hours of slavish toil Out in the busy town! Say, what rights has a son of toll That Governors should respect? “I'm Grover Cleveland! look on me, Laboring man, reflect! “Luse my veto pow'r to please Monopolies, not you; Money has rights, and home bas none! Thold this sentence true. “Only a veto! still, I'd like To have your vote today; I'm a laboring man myself, I toil “till twilight gray. “Helping the rich to richer get, Grinding the toiler down— Sixteen hours of slavish tuil Out in the busy town! “Men must work, and women weep,’ Sung England’s bard, they say; And Governors must veto bills, So runs the world away. “What if my vetos, tolling man, Your happiness have killed? You'll elevate me to the chair By Garfield grandly filled! . . 8 Only a veto! do not say Twas but a Governor's whim; When gently fall November's frosts, The land will veto him! tc manaacon Summer Hops. Weexty Hops are an institution at the hotel where Mrs, Hamburg has been passing the summer. Every Saturday night Mrs. H. puts on her best front hair and adorns herself in a diaphanous robe of nuns veiling, or some fleecy stuff, and gracefully akipe the light and fantastic with almost anybody that hap- pens to request the pleasure of her company for the next ‘‘dawnce you know!” No matter if the partner happens to smell of smoke and beer she dances with him all the same. Young men are scarce in the country, and a creature that a fastidious woman would not recognize at home may, at a summer resort, place his arms about the fair female’s waist and press her to his bosom, if only there be a harp and a fiddle to squeak out a few strains of Strauss or Lecocq. Mrs. Hamburg is happy in the knowledge that she has more partners than any other lady in the house, and the married women are all jealous of her. This makes her happier still, and, as she whirls through the waltz, and extricates her- self and companion from the intricacies of the Saratoga Lancers, she occasionally wonders what old Hamburg is doing and usually concludes that he is at home and in bed after the arduous duties of the day. comicbooks.com