Judge — January 10, 1885 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

ry ps nd es Ps, od 8 1 by cold min sus- if uc- they miet, f my blood; tested my liability to sunstroke by holding my head in the open door of a red- hot furnace-fire—to the severe detriment of my hair—and finally threw me down four flights of stairs, in order to judge how I would be apt to weather a railroad collision! acrons I was ‘‘a little disfigured, but still in the ring,” when I emerged from this ordeal, and sat down in Evans’ office to reply to a few closing interrogatories: Quesiion—* Have you ever suffered with ring-bones, spavins, or blind-staggers? If so, how often?” Answer—* Only one attatk of the latter, and that was superinduced on election night by ‘looking upon the Milwaukee beer when it was red in the schooner.’” Q.—‘* What was your age on the date of your birth?” A,—* Steen hours,” Q.—‘‘ Have you ever obtained a policy before.” A, Yes; No. 4-11-44.” Q.—‘ Aro you subject to fits?” A, No; not in ready-made clothing stores, at least.” Q.—** Ever been in the military service?” —‘‘ Served several years under General Debility. Q.—*‘ Married or single?” A,—“ One wife at present.” Q.—‘‘ Is there any constitutional peculiar. ity in your system—any hereditary family trait?” A, Nothing except the boarding-houso- wrecking Joslyn appetite!” THE JUDGE. Well, to cut this narrative short, I was adjudged a worthy person to receive life insurance, and, after paying some more uecessary fees to that wrongfully-named “Bee-niz” Company, my friend Evans, the agent—and mutilating assistant to the phys- ical examining M. D.—handed me a certifi- cate for a five thousand dollar policy. When, in the course of time, old “ Death on a Pale Horse” comes along and carries me off to stand St. Peter’s oral examination at Eden’s gate for admission to the angelic coterie, then the female relict I leave behind me on earth, I suppose, will collect the “boodle” on that policy, and grieve over my demise by dancing a lively * Highland Fling” of ‘sorrow (2), while en route to deposit her funds in the bank. Johnnie's Compositions. We had company. last Friday afternoon, and I thought I’d have something a little extra, so when my name waz called I came forrard with my mittens and overcoat on, and tole the teacher I waz reddy to operate onto my compozition, in ‘‘ costume.” The company laffed and she blushed and yanked the costume offer me in a minit an’ a harf, an’ I had to read it in a cardiken jicket an’ bare hands, I forgave her when sor how bad she felt, an’ red as good as I could what I had ritten on WINTER. Winter is that part ov the year what stuck out inter the cold an got froze, an’ though this happened millyns ov ages ‘ago, it ain’t got warm yet. Winter is the intervenin’ diffrence be- tween ortum and spring as is more neglectid ag any ov the sezuns. To uze a meter for; ole father Time gets ter dozin’ during the hot summer months and cole wether iz the result ov his neglectin’ bizness. When we had a sno-storm the other day, my little sister what hadn’t seen no snow, an’ consequently don’t no anything, tho’t it waz flour. I was delited. I like to shovel snow—till I get enuff to make a man ov. Freddy Fuller’s little sister’s got a brother named Hennery, (anyhow that iz what hiz muther yells when she wants him), and him and I (hopo theacher ‘Il notis I menshuned mye last like she tole us alwaz to) made a whopper ov a man what uzed up most all the snow in the front ov our house. We named it “Cleveland” and put a pipe inter his mouth an’ a ole stove-pipe on his hed, an’ then stood over side the schaveger barrel an’ fired everything we could lay hands on. Both our fathers voted for Mr. Blaine an’ we had to lick a little feller what tried to patch up the snow-man, coz his father waz a emocrat. Then Freddy got mad coz I wouldn’t help make a “Lockwood Monument,” (as if she hadn’t made a monument ov herself), an’ went home thretning to bild a fort and “bombard the stuffin’ outer me.” I ain't afraid coz my Jim can lick him with one hand behind him. Winter is a jolly sezen for invalids, coz tha can go ter Florida, but its hard onter poor people, father says. There’s a little boy next house to ours, who can’t afford to have his pants lined with tin or anything, and has to carry his sno-balls round in his ror hands’sted ov havin’ mitten protectors. I pitied him so I gave hima pair ov my ole suspenders. —————————————— II Jim laffed an’ said that waz Christianit; (I nu ‘twas ‘lastic, but I didn’t say so- Jim’s like father, he hates to be corrected). Way up to the North Pole the Eskimoz are furnished with winter all the time. Jim says tha pack it in ice, an’ in that way keep it the year round, an’ when they go to sleep the ice forms on ’em so thick that tha had to sit on the stove half the next mornin’ fore they can move ’round. T forgot to ask him how tha got onter the stove if tha couldn’t move. He also said that in hunting tha only to breath onte a anmul when it immejitly froze to deth. ‘That sounds tuff an’ hard to beleve, but I’ve heard mother tell pa when he comes home cold nights that his breth waz strong jane to nock a hoss down, so perhaps Jim’s right. There is two varietics ov winter; mild, and severe. In mild winters a feller can play marbles all the time, (if he didn’t have to go to school I mene), an’ in severe winters he has to get inter the oven to prevent bein’ suisided. Pa tole me that, one Christmas night afew years ago, a boy ’bout my size, open his bed- room window coz he thort he heard Santa Clause chaining his rane dears to the front gate, and his mouth froze so open that tha couldn’t shut it for weeks, ‘This was o severe winter. Mebby Pa found out I roamed round our house ’bout 3 hours last Christma, There is several disgreeble things ’bout winter what oughter be attended to ’sted ov botherin round ’bot “ sivil servis” so much. As it is a feller can’t go huckleberrin’, nor in swimmin, nor have watter-mellunz and strorberrys, an’ he can’t go to ‘‘ Larn Feets” an’ get heaps of vermiller ice cream, an’ play with the boys (an’ girls). But its pleasant to think how nice an’ warm next summer’s goin ter be. An’ I like winter coz you can thro sno- balls at the ole gentlemen what you don’t like, an’ say you waz a firing at a sno-burd. ’Course a feller can run away from school an’ “run bends” on the ice, but there ain’t any place to ring out yer pants when you get ducked, an’ I don’t fancy father’s way ov makin’ it warm for you alien yon get home. One ov the worse things about winter iz gettin’ up before daylight to go to school, tho’ I’m goin’ to make tho best ov it while its here. Ugh! “CLYDE.” A arrt—every girl has some antio— After marriage became so pedantic She set love at defiance, And only talked science Till she had her new husband set frantic. We have often seen a broken button-hole, but who ever saw a broken button whole? “Mr. Pannevt,” says our Irish corre- spondent, ‘‘is one of the most populous men in the whole country.” We don’t know, but we presume he means popular. Ir is said, ‘a thing of beauty is a joy forever,” but sometimes when a fellow mar- ries a girl because she’s pretty, he finds ‘a thing of beauty is annoy forever.” “My pear,” said her ma, ‘ you must read the papers, and keep yourself constantly well up in the tropics of the day, and always keep your brain furnished with subjects likely to come under concussion.” comicbooks.com