Judge — January 24, 1885 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

And with my note-book in my band, I wandered round the plice. T had not walked so very far upon the golden street, When, turning by good luck 1 | Tto meet A beautiful blonde cherub, who looked up with sil “Ob, hang my book, talk to her a while.” round a corner, chanc And I thought, * Please, Miss Cherub, will y a walk with me And show me the celebrities I've come I stammered “With pleasure,” said the cherub, ‘* what sights do yor Political?—Angelical?—the former I infer.” So tog prefer,— ther very leisurely we strolled from street to street, And many an old acquaintance I met and stepped greet T saw was Burchard, who com about his win! And told me (confidentially) he thou: te The first lained | it them horrid | thi There, too, was Roscoe Conklin, sweet and bland, A curl upon his forchead, a harp within his hand, | with expression I very clo his heels a smaller a flew, | for ashe passed, T heard him. say, ‘me too, And there were I an blithely playing on a harp, And Grant was smok ar, and Chandler | looking sharp. Ben Butler was counting silver spoon: While cock-eyed old And Sheridan and Sherman were practicing hymn tunes. “But where is Brother Beecher?” [asked my little “Why, Becker's no Republican!” she angrily , replied, “Ben Butler is not cither, and would not now be here, wcracy last year. If he bad not tried to overcome Den “But a Democrat could enter, who is both good and wi I ventured to remonstrate, but I noted with sur- prise That the cherub looked sore puzzled, then shru +A Democrat that's go, there such a thin, ged her wing, — she sai Chet, Whitelaw Reid, and Edmunds, and Evarts too, I saw,— But Peter wildly waved his keys (the cherub said he, swore) *Look here, young man! I your time is up, Just take the next cloud for the Earth—you'll be in time to sapt? ub murmured, Why, you'd come to stay a little Thope 1 will ome day,” Bat I mast not tarry longer, or Tne June surely frown. So I pressed her left wing gently, and hurried back to town. Hanes THonse, And loudly cried The pretty chy T tho And 1 said: angel, win | Orr on a toot—the cornetist out of town. Prope used to wonder at Charlie Backus eating three fries atone mouthful, but times have changed; many persons now carry plates in their mouths all the time. heard No. 2 office i pretty well acquainted — must hare wh Imperitment, Trifling Tidbits. Waterproof gaiters—alligators. scrap-book — the History of Prize nts, Men of penetration—tunnel constructors. The last knell of Republicap presidents— Nell, Arthur. E young man in a new suit of flanne atch, scratch From my Ab, the tender Will it ever cor ratch— lers down t bof the ec back to me?” my kne t Traveler. Likewise the girl who has discarded flan- nels: atch, seratch, scratch alder down to my kn © buck 1 on met" From my st Ab, the awful rash from th That this winter's broke at cakes, A suit of mail—the post-man’s uniform, Great on the ‘ cod ’—practical jokers, and Massachusetts fishermen. Prince Collonna’s fiancee will donbtless Mackey good wife for that blue-blooded nobleman, “Getting Hon, in the world,” as the fel- low said who had just been elected to Con- gress. t's" with “dots” o'er “i.'s, careless p Liw Little Make th Writi “crosses,” nman cer de A youth of great promise—the one who desireth to negotiate for a loan. “Tar en route to dispose of stolen plunder do not like to have obstacles put in their way, but they were never known to object to a ‘fence’!” (Translated from the Canadian of Mother Mandelbaum.) Oh, beantiful land where the dates grow ripe, Where birds in winter-time Where the white man’s joke dies out in a breath, Where the “chestnut” has no show, | Chicago Herald. Ob, bottomless pit where the fire burns hot, Where the sinner gasps and chokes— Where no water-pipes ever freeze up and bust, Where there are no “ plumber” jokes. ** Rut weean imag a hard time it No, 3. What terrible fate araite iif itahowld sande their editorials ; Well, it would evtell up and die,” it trikes Sun” edi. Democratic A man is obliged to curry favor with the woman he wishes to make his bride, before he can be-comb her groom. When it comes to feminine goodness, there is Nun other to equal that of a Sister of Charity. The soldier who won glory, promotion, his honorable discharge, and a pension, “ at the cannon’s month,” would gladly give them up to regain the eye, ear, leg, and arm he lost at the same place! The Reason Why. I was walking slong a country road, en- joving the mild winter air, and drinking in the fragrance of the spring flowers, which IT rather guessed would be along soon, 1 am a romantic sort of a fellow, and when busi- ness is not spry in the city, I sorter enjoy tuking a walk along where no one clse goes, When in town, Inv always reckoned a sharp, go-ahead sort of fellow, but that comes from among sharp people, which causes'me my tone from them, but way out in the country Pact like a young lamb. — Bless you, when I git out among the green trees and fields, I gits down-right green myself. tin? on that, of course, I could not poor man sitting half weeping by the roadside without accosting him Rind of piti- ful: * Old man,” says I, ‘ you're in a bit of trouble?” “St see nger, Tam,” said he. “Lost your father mebbe? “ Before I was born,” “ Your mother, then “Not lately,” said he, “Your wife?” said I. “Not much,” said he. “ Your Sweetheart?” said I. He shook his head till his hat and wig came off. “Keep your hair on,” said I, “would a trifle of cash help you?” “‘Tdunno, but it might,” said he, “but that ain’t the real trouble. Every man knows where his own shoe pinches, and its not every can understand my case. Stranger, yon’re an honest man by your face, and I'll tell you what my trouble is, that keeps me asitiing and a weeping on a cold heap of stones this winter day not having a shoe on my foot. Stranger, its corns.” ” said I. said he. ” said I. comicbooks.com