Judge — November 15, 1884 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

— THE JUDGE. THIS WAS THE PISTOL, Confession of John Thomas Jones, Inside Man. I awa very clever man, though I do not | like to own it to every one, for the fact is, I made my fortune by playing the fool. Folks, asa rule, have a symyathy with fools, a kind of fellow feeling I’ suppose. I write these confessions to show what a simpleton my last mistress was, but I don’t mean to confi I my sins, at least not till | I join the Salvation Army, and if I ever do that, there will be queer tales to tell. Iam an inside man by profession, and I can get inside of most folks, I got inside of my late employer Mrs, Sparkins. You THE NAME OF HIS SWEETHEART, THE V1C- TIM, WAS RUTH, HE WASN’T AWARE THAT THE PISTOL WAS LOADED, see old Sparkins was not long dead when I came to her, and she thought his spirit hung ‘round the back parlor, and came down the chimney on windy nights. Of course, I humored the joke, and made the tables fly around for her, and pretended I saw old Sparkins every night. There was a painting of him in the parlor, so I’ easily described him to her—a fat, puffy looking old fellow, with white hair and a red nose. “John,” she would say, ‘do you see him in the flesh?” iota ee deal of flesh,” “Oh! ’tis he, ’tis he!” then. ‘in a great she would cry AND HE ONLY FOUND OUT WHEN THE DARNED THING EXPLODED, ghts the spi Thomas bill, some nigh would rap and et rit would tell her to mes a twenty dollar a five dollar bill, and he se so till sh ed him, that she always had to keep the change very handy. I made quite a snug thing out of t, but T never had real comfort ‘till she rithad entered at was prime, but then I began to into me. think it a pity there was no other spirit enter- inginto me. So one night the spirit told her as sort of chilly, and ordered her to || leave him a glass of strong punch every || night. Of course, she thought that very natural, as old Sparkins, it seems, liked the stuff well enough during his life. And it was a comfort to my conscience, too, for I can’t bear to tell a lic, and when she'd ask | me if I had old Sparkin’s spirit in me, liked to be able to say with all truth, “Why, certainly, it’s just entered in through my | mouth, and I feel it down to my toes, and through my fingers all a tingling. And when she would ask me how was it to- night, I would tell the very truth.“ Pure and strong.” I’d say sometimes, and some- times, ** Weak enough, I don’t feel much spirit in me to-night,” but I did not often have to complain, and she and I were as happy and contented as could be untilasus- picious good-for-nothing son of Sparkins, by | a former marriage, came and kicked me out the house, and she was a fool, and I was Vl No thanksto him, I have tten to her in these words: | “The spirit r departed husband to meet him at No, — Sixth Avenue to. pt, at the usual hour. My Sybilla do not fail.” a swindler, but I'll be even with him, get at Mrs. S. w ands I don’t give the number, for I don’t want any other spirits around, but I'll be there to-night waiting for developments, Tue T hank be deviled. iving turkey is not sent to PLeruorie pysrerric—‘t Doctor would you advise me to eat my beef rare?” Doctor—* will better.” | A CELEBRATED nch botanist, lately arrived in this country, is exploring the forests of New England in search of the tree that bears the doughnuts. Pouite Frexcuman--‘ It is a phrase there which in the English puzzles much,— What is this which you would mean, Mon- | sieur, when you say ta bad lot?’”” Brutal Saxon Well, I believe in French | a bad lot means Gravelotte.” comicbooks.com