Judge — March 21, 1885 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

THE JUDGE. hero’s destiny—perhaps hadn’t; who can tell? Metaphysics and mortality are so mixed up that it is sometimes as difficult to find out what one docs of his own volition, as it is to discover what volition has to do with it, anyway. Of Sam’s early life we will say nothing. nd lives of all great men are not to be ad vised as a steady diet. They are divided history that shall serve as a companion souvenir to G. W’s, Little Hatchet, we will allow Sam Snapps to fall down the back | stairs of the past, and brace ourselves up for the greatest effort of our life. | Sam Snapp was a good looking young fellow of some twenty-two summers. THe has a comfortable height; that is to say he was not tall enough to warrant a dime museum mana- er offering him a fabulous ealary to exhibit Before all the crowned heads of Enrope in = group, (on the bills) nor short enough to act asa Morning Journal editorial. His figure was comely, verging on to that state when a fresh layer of adipose tissue may confidently be reckoned on. His features, although not built upon any recognized style of beauty, were pleasing to the eye, and what he lacked in Grecian or Roman contour was made up for by the glossy sleckness of his well-cared for moustache. His teeth were sound, like- wise his digestion; his eyes were brown, laughing, yet shrewd; his hair was crop short to his shapely craniam upon which the the bump of veneration found no resting place for the sole of its foot. Altogether Sam was pleasing to look upon; and while not boasting the oratorical powers of Demos- thenes, or Roscoe Conkling, he could, to use the language of a customer whom he had once left for dead—‘ talk the kink out ofa hog’s tail!” Although Sam had never received a college education, his knowledge of poker was phe- nomenal, which proves that a man may be happy, and yet know nothing about Greek | roots, and baseball. to two great classes; falsehoods and lies; and as we purpose furnishing our readers with a | He wasa good judge of horses and ancles; liked a first-class dinner and a high-flavored ‘‘ Perfecta;” played bil- liards like a professional, made love like a he angel, and never cheated a man out of a cent —uafter business hours, gee is Sam Snapp, let us hope you like im! At the time we commence the recital of of Mr. Snapp’s adventures he was on the eve of starting on hia first trip for the wholesale ready-made clothing house of Marks, Ruben- stein & Moses, of Green Street, N. Y. City. Ife had superintended the removal of his sample trunks to the Grand Central Depot, bonght his ticket for his first stopping place, paid for his extra baggage, the checks of which he deposited in a well-filled wallet; and, after an excellent dinner at Delmonico’s —when flush, Delmonico’s, when otherwise a cheese sandwich and a glass of lager in the humble German saloon of the period; no one knew better than Sam Snapp how to adapt himself to circamstances—iit a cigar, and not having to start on his journey until the 8:30 next morning, he sallied forth, at peace with all mankind, to a meeting of a secret society to which he belonged, named the ‘* Brotherhood of Infinite Gall,” where a neophyte was that evening to be initiated into the mysteries of the order. (To be Continued.) DROPPING TO THE SIfUATION. Boy at tar Borrom— "1 ern't get up while you are there.” Tor Boy there.” Boy on tur Grovxp— Sor the ladder ia tumbling an ‘equal footing ina minute And I can't yet dinen while you are Mt about it, th be onan A Word for Poor Nick. Do you know, Tom, I like the devilt Yes, I think he's quite As half the idols men | To suit their moral price. Were your name forever pitted And beaten black and blue, Don't you guess, Tom, if things permitted, You'd play a prank or twot And then if he never b Just tell him, Tom. 1 As quite to make And, like Darwin's Who knows? tin Gaze kindly upon his hard fe And you may melt his horns, When he'll look just like other creatures, Whose only flaw is corns! I'm convinced that he needs the training Got in neat business suits, And the curb so mildly restraining Of brand. new boots, Yes, I think, Tom, with better manners, That poor, unruly Nick Might, in time, wave temperance banners As high as proper Dick! woe erRoTuERs, Guest—* Wa genuine turtle Waiter—* Yes, sir. It was made out of the water of « pond near here in which a turtle was seen Just summer.” . did you say this was “How does it come, Jones, that you made “Why, how were your creditors rel “Jones—* 0, you see, I relic from the trouble of constantly something, and being disapointed.” ed them pecting comicbooks.com