Judge — November 22, 1884 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

id= ra the her the olay or t of iar. nce us] an nce and use tion fter ler. n of y do » he nd- the- ci for Forethought. I rary would wander through the park As twi-light throws the shadows dark Across the leas; I fain would stroll with foot-steps light, Alone within the pale moon's sight, Beneath the stars that sparkle bright In heavenly seas, And so, I prithee, sir, prepare A poultice with the greatest care Of Kraukkopf's bark; And fetch me yonder pistols twain, My coat my loaded cane, My dirk and billy, for I fain Would seek the park. And mind, sir, that you do not fail To have on hand, fur y bail, Th’ requisite cash; For if a pecler should appear, And 1 yard oF so too near Vi—well.—1 will, 1 Do something r reatly fear, bh | So hand me yonder sabre bright, And yonder bomb of dynamite, For in the dark T fain would stroll, with footsteps 1 Alone within the pal moon's si Beneath the stars that sparkle bri In Central Park. a MeCietLasy The American Jubilleneum. WHAT UNCLE ABE JOHNSON THINKS OF IT, Mr. Jowxsos had just finished spitting | on his hands and aged in rubbing them together preparatory to resuming the maul for a final attempt to drive home the e in the refractory gum log, but for- ve the newspaper man a glimpse of his political views. Ye e ‘lection am done an’ de times seems us flat as biled possum tow at dey Tkin work heah all day now an’ nary wite man stop fur to ax me wedder I'll hab a drop; an how’s de ole woman an’ de childer, an’ want to put my name down fur wice president at de big stump meetin’ nex’ week. Dere was lawyer Bellows he runned furde legislater, he come down frew the hollow an’ sing out ‘hello, Uncle, you’s de bery man what I’se ben sarchen far high an low since airly dis morning. A intelligentle man like you ob course understan’s all about de terriff etter nor us lawyers, but dere’s neighbors of your’n what habn’t got your brains, bring em roun’.? Den he guy me two quarters an’ a look out of his two eyer dat as good as say ‘dere’s a five, or mebbe a ten, back of dis. Keep yer upper lip in hit’s place, Uncle An’ dere was Jedge Mason, de longest head ole coon you ever seed—one of dem kine kin lay on de soft soap an’ you doan feel it. ‘Uncle Gabe,’ says de Jedge, ‘I’se come express fur ter borry a chaw of dat onequable natchul leaf dat growed in yer own lot—General Grant nebber ed de likes of it. An doan yer son William (de Jedge illude to our Bill, kin read amost frew de alphybet) want ter be a clark in de White House, in case de ‘lection go all right? Wich by de way, Uncle Gabe,’ says de Jedge, as ef I didn’t know he war driven’ in dat di- | rection from de fust start, ‘itam boun’ ter go all right ef de high tone collo’d folks like de Johnsons sits a good sample to de common | lot,’ and den he hand over de bottle, fur de Jedge he always say you never cotch de ole A CAUSTIC CONUNDRUM. AuNT (severely) —‘ Don’t you know it's wicked fo make such ugly faces?” Littte Nie sojer out without his weepon, an’ I pulled at ,den de Jedge guy mea silver dollar and says, ‘this twixt me an’ you, and de persim- mon tree. You understan’ Uncle Gabe?’ An’ I say, yes, Jedge, I understan’, An’ young Waterat he come an’ argy and argy fur more’n a hour dat it am aeberlastin’ shame fur de freman ter gave his wote to | patternize de low-minded rum hole and de gilted saloon, and dat it hab cost more to git drunk in dis yere God-forsooken state dan would buy all de shirts fur de childeren uf Africa; wile down in Maine yon can’t git nary drop of de lickid pisen, not ef you was a blest preacher ob de gospel. Den he only shooked hands and left, and I y to myself I wouldn’t guv free cents fur a wagon-bed full of sich oninterestin’ argy- ments. Candydate Cormick, he only say, ‘Mr. Johnson, it am time fur de African race ter make derself felt in de gubberment of dis kentry—hab some, Mr. Johnson?—proud to hab yer wote an’ influence es one ob de le: ers ob de party,” den he got. But General Firebrick, de squarest. man dat I eber sot my eyes on; he didn’t got out of his buggy but stopped jes on di de gully and yelled over. ‘Hello you, Gabe Johnson, you black rascal, you, what'll you take fur your own wote an’ fur wat you kin pick up frew de Hollow—here’s a ten of greenbacks you wooly-headed rascal, an’ ef you come down wen we raise em, I reckon you kin git a bag uf potatoes, an’ mebbe one uf de spotted shotes, ef you feel like cotchin’ him. De Firebricks am a powerfal rough family on de outside, but de Firebricks cusses hab brung more blessins’ into de poo’ E (innocently) —* Was God wicked mhen he made yours?” man’s cabin den all de gammon ile fur ten miles roun’, An’ so, de lawd only knows wat I tuck from all de candydates de’ warious promises dat I guv ‘en, wile de only eandy- e dat I doan disrember for shiah dat I n't go back on was de General. de n afore de ‘lection was like iy of de jubilleneam dat I hab hearn about up to de church, but Wednesday mornin’ afore last de cole wave sot in an’ now it’s a awful dry spell fur de niggah what hab lain up no stamps fur de rainy day; fur now decol'd 1 mun count fur more je wagon, or de on- t dis chile n nor de hoss behind ¢ uralize Dutchman. If feel down in de mou It haint de fust time yer Uncle Gabe hes bin frew de mill since the wah, an’ wen de flattery with ndydate come roun’ he find dis fellah citizen eber ready ter took his wiskey and his greenbacks, bit de soft soap hab no more show to git frew dis yere ole hide dan a dose ob Carter ile kin. pe ite into de roof of a snappin’ tortle borned in the last centuary, nor a pine wedge split into de heart ob dis yere contwisted gum butt. But all de fool Young niggahs what hab no experimence in de wanity ob pollyticks and war singin’ an’ yellin’ and kickin’ up deir heels at all de Stump meetins like de tender lambs in de grecn pi feels like de young alligator wich cotched himself one morn tun’ in a dried up swamp. Hold yer horses till itam neum hab come fur to stay | MACKHOWLY. rtin de jubille- Fatt. <A good chestnuts are ripenin, comicbooks.com