Judge — December 13, 1884 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

THE JUDGE. MORE THAN ONE WAY TO CAN'T DROWN IT. KILL A CAT. MUSIC FINISHES IT. The Reverend Buckwasher Struggles | on the New Version de wite folks hes foun’ out dat de name fur de ole place am de ’ Laint goin’ ter objec’ perwided a de name ony an’ not the place what am changed, but ‘:t am onlikely; and ter gitat de main pint |. ‘ne interyuce a par- abory: About de time wacn I fust start out | for to jine de chu’ch an’ be a chile ob grace, | dere was plenty of opporchunities for to git adram of licker dat would warm up de inside man like a double-b: dis liker, as all de old were called Ole Rye. Bat in de present de stuff what am stood out hal de name ob benzine. Now benzine, like water, am un- doubtless all right in hits place, but de place am not heah, fur wile it hab de taste of bug pison it am so powerful weak dat, as [ kin tell by pussonal experimence, it takes mighty nigh onto six or seven pulls at de bottle fur ch wind from blowin’ frew you Jrove of scar’d shotes tearin frew acane bottom down on de Mingo branch, and de much mo’ ef de stummick am inflicted wid a spell obdisgestion. Now in dis yere benzine it ain’t on’y de name what ain’t de same; de | stuff hitself am indifferent from Ole Rye. De temperatarement hab sunk till hits as onery as water fur heatin’ apof de body. Now right heah breddren sticks de pint of de parab- ory wich Ise been drivin’ at fur to fotch out:— Ef dere’s sich lots of indifference between dis mis‘able benzine and de gennyine Ole | Rye, den I ax why not apply de parabory in | de case of hades, an’ de good ole place. Ef dere ain't no sich indifferance den I say go ahead buckra wid yer hades, but ef dere am | —ef dere’s bin a fallin’ off—ef de ole place, wen it lost de ole name hab also lost any of hits ancien’ warmpess—den for de sake ob de po’ collo’d sinner’s soul it am my duty fur to solemny objec’. Campaign Echoes. Give the angel her due. she could. Lockwood if Aw awful dry spell—-twenty-four years be- tween drinks, ‘Tur Democratic fair maid is in love with | the Otficial Count, Too thin for the average American stom- ach—St. John and water. Tue Plumed Knight, he made a gallant fight; but he was no match for the Official Count, However it may be with Blaine and But- ler, St. John knows full well thet he was licked by tine liquor. Tax American politician feels himself consumedly bored by the slow, deliberate | style of an official Count. Upper Dog—‘“ Well, how do you feel?” Under Dog—‘‘ Not well; howdid you feel when you were in my place.” Now that the election is done the white- washer’s occupation is gone, but cabinet- | making has received a boom. Tur Democratic managers have found that a Saintjohn serves their purpose better than a demijohn—and comes much cheaper. First Rerustican—“ Well, if we didn’t win we came within an ace of it.” econd Republican—‘ Yes, and that’s the deuce of it.” Tue truth is, Belva, that when an Amer- ican voter goes into the campaign in earnest, he seems to lose his habitual politeness and tender regard for the sex. ‘There is in our own political contest no place aux dames, unless they be the other kind of damns. Rervpiic was barely wo Democrat—‘ Yes, but for average pur- poscs such a won is as good as two.” *g sphere has, in the political per- va, been so shamefully flattened at <— After all, your victory | the polls, that it might readily be mistaken for a pancake. One Republican editor finds consolation in this bit of canine philosophy: “ Every dog knows that the sensation of being licked ig pleasanter than to be eternally licking.” Tue friends of Master Benjamin will be pained to learn that that once promising youth is not getting on well in his studies. n grammar, for instance, though he knows all about the nominative case, he seems in- capable of getting as far as the possessiv On the whole it looks as though he m never graduate at the electoral college. CLeveLanp—‘ Well, I’m surprised! But I suppose its all for the best.” Kelly—* Make the wake as lively as you please, boys; but don’t drink up all the whiskey. I don’t intend this funeral to be my last.” Butter — ‘Sic transit gloria mundi- tuesday. But I defy them totake my scalp.” Belva—‘‘ The wretches! Butin the words of the immortal—somebody, I would rather be left than be President.” 'Tilden—‘‘ Who would have thought it? If I would have thought it, Grover wouldn’t have got it.” Grateful Democracy (to St. John)—“Blest saint! you have fought the good fight. Name your price; you shall have all the fresh water you want. comicbooks.com