Judge — February 21, 1885 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

1g ir d, st le. Us 18 ms Ca ed n+ ut he ke THE JUDGE. m the roof of my 2 two uncles what are bare- footed on top ov there heds, He never goes out when it rains, coz he wouldn’t know null ter go ina Hiz principal occupation iz | putting Inglish language out of joint. le says “2 nice for anything b’jove,” whe hez tickled, and ** Dwedfully orful,” when he’s scar ter deth, He lives the life ov a butter-fli, a important diffrence being he | never ths round under any circumstance an’ the hevyest thing ever known carry waza plate ov ic *blon: (that mens a gurl in Ais language) which he has fascinated. When be makes love (for he haa ter wake it), he calls it “ mashing.” After you explain a thing ter him az simple az you can, an ask if he understands, he says, “Tm fli.” nybody would think he waz one by the wa he crols). He usually rizes_ at 11 in the mornin’ and yornz hisself down stares, When other peo- ple eat dinner he *lunches,” an’ when Chris- tian folks is consumin supper he * dines.” Oh, a dude’s a livin’ curiosty, he is, Vd like ter examin one under a microscope Towards night he begins to paw over his engagements, an smell hisself up with eseence ov lemon, and turn his cuffs round so az to uze the clean end. If he’s goin where he has goter pa 50 or 65 centz, his first care 1z ter borrer it. ‘Then he puts some pomade onto his hed and holes it over the gas-jet till the front hare melts an’ runs down onto his 4hed in the proper dezine. In about 3 hours he iz reddy, an’, donnin’ his spring overcoat and winter cane, he sallys out ter the elevated rale road, the street carz, or private coop, whichever his father’s menes will best allow, Whatever the aparent uselessness ov a dude ma be, he sertenly fills a nitch inter society But the wind won't moan an’ how! an’ sob thro’ that nitch any longer—not if the animul noz it an’ that iz one ov the fu things it doz no. ‘There's a nu feller in our skool named Harold D.Gush which evrybody calls the dude, and I dru onto mi observations ov him for material in compiling up this sketch, an’ when I got "bout harf thro’ reding it, the creture fired a ink-stand at me, This not bein’ one ov the usual privileges ov the skool, he waz chained up inthe seller. Ino he had ter sta after skool enyhow. I gess I'll make up with him again—I don’t like to have enmies, even mungst the dude family, and he has a sperlended parler skating rink up at his house! YDE.” Passing in Their Chips. A siou—a tear O’er shrouded bier,— A female dead! A “sport” is * Broke” at the game of poker! seo, “ ELocutionist” asks whether it is true that the Hon. Greek Demosthenes became a great orater by speaking with pebbles in his mouth. Most true; but not his fault. Mr. D. was not an American statesman, but lived in a barbarous country where the tobacco quid was unknown. A PRACTICAL Gent. Lapy— ILLUSTRA O thunder!) Pn ye Johnny Bull Has a Business Talk With Billy Gladstone. | AUTHENTIC ANECDOTES OF GLADSTONE. “Wittram, I have been hearing that sweet voice of thine for half a hundred years; listen to me now for one bad quarter of an | hour, Thou arta good feller, William— | very good feller of trees, as everybody know and canst tell us all about Homer and his Iliad and discourse sweetly on the proper shape of an ax-handle; and art orthodox as a country church-yard, and the friend of the cherished beadle, and when the good parson , goest down regardless of dirt and th breeches knees; and hast always on tap flood of eloquence that can overflow my Parliament House whenever the bumptious Tory or the wild Irishman applies, and of such earnestness that it never fails to bring the knot in thy necktie right under thy left ear; and a conscience, William, thou hast so probulgious that the newspapers sing of it. Moreover, William, thy respect for the Sab- bath, and thy pious rural exhortations to be diligent in the cause of jam! ‘These be good, bright points, Willie, my bright good boy, and if John Bull were a fond mother he would be proud of them but mother, and I don’t care a British goddam about all your tea-table moralities and all your Admirably Crichton brilliancies, if I find them good for nothing but to cut down my income and to raise taxes to people to let this or that scoundrel pull my nose and singe my whiskers. It makes you feel good to be patted on the back by all the stalwart chure harm done; but when the bold bad men of Look here, Bill Gladstone; I ain’t your | vomen of England, and there is no | TION OF HIS) PREJUDICE tting down on roller skates! Dear me, that is very evident.” blood and iron and brains and what not, who do business at Berlin and Paris and | Petersburg say to cach other, what a Ch tian statesman Gladstone is, and what a conscientious, why then I’m blest if I don’t believe it’s time to look whether everything is really ready at Woolwich, and whether The Rock is victualled for a twelve-month’s sie; No, Bill, lam what Lam because I never had religion enough to ki me from hitting the other party before he could get ready to have a lick at me, though I have enough to have all my bi ps thank God for me when the tis over and the other party is the under party. And we have nof changed all that, by George! And you know Bill, if I wanted to rake up bygones what I could say of Aberdecn’s Quaker policy that cried ‘peace, peace,” yet drifted me all unprepared into that C n affair, where so many of my poor lant boys perished in that infernal welter of ice and mud for want ofa blanket and a loaf of bread. A Sunday school policy, Bill, 1 have alw found more murderous than the loudest Jingoism. But hang the past. And out with it now, Bill—what have you been doing on my Aust n pl tion, that all the farmers there are pestering me | with their complaints? Have you no eye for these rascally Cossacks feeling the p: | of the Hindoo Koosh with their long speers, and getting ready to ride the devil knows where if not down into my very Punjaub? | Were you asleep when you allowed that im- | pudent Dutch Janke peddler, Frelinghuy- | sen, to drive his scaliwagg Jersey match of a |coach and six, through one of my finest treaties as if it were no better than a hedge of cabbages? And that confounded never end- ing Irish business, that you told me was settled SS comicbooks.com