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

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

THE JUDGE. Love ORANGE -BLOSSOM- ABUNDANCE LANGUAGE ov ancient sox depending from the end?” ‘The same mi frend. That's Madamozell —Miss Doodle for short, brought up bottle in Cork. She iz sokin fer hed to get the quince seed glu onto her bangs, but she iz ezy onter the clothes. Sez she don’t rub ’em to deth, jest sokes ’em over night in strong lye, that perforates little holes for the sope suds ter get inter. Mukes it very con- venient for me to put on mi pants, havin’ so meny airholes I can get em on either side up, drop in mos enywhere. Talk about fryin’ sorsingers and unions! If she can’t rastle a spider pritty big then I’m a millionair. Not one of those fat yello things what hav glass Ize and 14 legs whitch travel in az meny diffrent directions at the same time an scare women outer a 2 years growth ov hair pins, but a metal spider with a broken handle an’ ornamented with land- scapes done in iron rust. At least that iz the wa ours iz. handle when she can’t find the handle ezy. (Jim says this is tort-ology. Probably becoz the handle iz gone). Course all gurlz has a bo, and ours isn’t a exception. Herz is the nite watchman on [ our street. When we hav all gone ter sleep She can’t find it ezy to | = LILAC -LOVES FIRSTEMOTIONS OF FLOWERS. she steels inter the front parlor and catches on to the fruit and then tha sit bi the fire an enjoy it, while he drinks her health in 4 varieties ov our best wine. We usually find him next morning ont in the back yard hold- ing the steps down, and tryin’ toexplain that heiz lookin’ fer his beat. Evidently mistakes our flower bed for a vegitable garden. There’s one thing I admire in Miss Biddy, and that iz her luv ov the Doodle family. She entertains ’em bi the dozen, and tha always go'awa loded with sugar, tea, fruit, cake or sum such little token ov her regard. She must deny herself to be so generous, fer she only gets £2.00 a weak. Then she does smash crockery in sich a ezy graceful way, one can hardly keep their Ize off her, (much less their hands), and she dusts the ‘polish off our piano, and busts | plate glass with a non-she-lance only at- tained by long practice. She fractured the lim’ ov the mahogan: centre table last weak, but mother dasn’t | complain for fear she will leave and carry the spoonz off; mother iz perfektly rite in desirin | to mantane the spoon department. — Its always been mi opinion if she got mad she'd ' Kick out the under-pinning ov the house and let us all settle inter the celler, She evinces such a lovin desire ter dust mi coat with the rong end ov the broom, that I don’t invade her domane unless driven bi hunger or hard presst for jam. It makes her nice an’ mad when I get on the safe side ov the fence and sing a little himn I’ve decomposed fer her benefit. It runz as following;— And sh When cnones. She's a daisy, she's « darlin She's a bunch of soiled calico sa lamb g south, he shuts her mouth feel the jura hundred yards away, This generally makes her stand on her hands in the yard and turn black in the face, after which she arms herself and persues me round a tree till she’s tired, while I vary the entertainment bi onkoring the chorus, and, with a slight change for the sake ov varity shriek— She's a pie-plate, she's an oil-can, She's the roof ov a frozen ice-house, She's a fraud; When she tries to talk, Her nu false teeth balk And she kicks hole in the heavens evry time! There are other little character and facetious dis) indulges into, such as taken # vac: daz outer the 7 whitch I won’t enlarge onto owing ter mi natural administration for the workin’ classes in general, and Our Hired Gurl in particular. xcentricities ov “CLYDE,” Tue house of Bourbon—a Kentucky still- house. Pew rents are falling. The hard times make people saving even of the means of be: ing saved. Wey the thermometer isat zero, and thé solitary stove on a strike, the judicious country pastor will think ‘twice before he tempts his shivering flock with glowing pic- tures of fire. It has been remarked that during the win- ter months editors, more than the rest of mankind, suffer from severe colds. This comes of their perverse habit of sitting down every day on all The Beautiful Snow that is shoveled into the sanctum, It seems from the result of the last pew renting in Plymouth Church that Brother Beecher’s late venture has netted him about seven thousand dollars short—a really hand- some sum for these hard times. Which of his brother Argonauts can show a better winning. A youno clergyman, who had allowed his unruly member to run him into aserape, asked the much experienced paster of Plymouth Church to help him out with wise counsel. “Well,” said brother Beecher, ‘better let bad enough alone. I find that when I happen to put my foot into it, and try to get it out, I only succeed in getting the other foot in.” comicbooks.com