Judge — May 9, 1885 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

CONTENTMENT AT THE RESTAURANT. Tue preacher remarked, nd his piece of che der now, if Dyna mute he threw a glance And as he sawed at the fried buck-skin With all bis might and main, He hummed, “If at first you don’t succeed, Try tripe again And exclaimed, as he ta This is cooked extr 1 the raspberry sauce, well T the hulls, 1 jam the jam things to jell And when he put bis hand to his mouth al out the fish that wa He retlectively ‘These speckled trout with a hair? And when the young And turned up He remarkey iel grew rosy red. er pretty no: “ifth y look ox-eyed And then he paid his check at the desk And started to go away, While he smilingly said, For such a little You give bully b The Professor in Journalism. AN INCIDENT ILLUSTRATING THE PAPILIONACEOUS NATURE OF THE BUCKWHEAT CAKE Arven years of literury vicissitude, and a vain search for some publication wherein he could exhibit the lambant flames of his genius to the world, Bangkok Wilson be- came editor of the Roller. He had amassed up to that time a portfolio full of printcd and lithographed forms for the return of MSS., grabbed from the courtly magazine circular which assured the wretched writer that there is ‘no lack of intrinsic merit” in his effusion, to the more business like and harrowing lines regretting at a press of accepted matter prevented ‘* the availability of the article” the cruel editor had been ‘‘so kindly permitted to read.” Bangkok was scholar, if anything. Io didn’t come from Boston, but he had been at Spring which is very nearly the sam So Bangkok had the following lithographed : Resrectep Sir: The Taj at Agra—more beautiful than all, less material than any production of mortal marble works—contains the desiccated frag- ment of a commun y lootra back to Buddh. ‘There wasn reason why the jungles of Saring the lurid lurches of Lahore should therefore echo to the grief of Buddh. Nor should you mourn. When Anaximandev met Socrates meande: ing thro’ the forum with his great toe ina sling, it became proper for Ximenes to e: plain to the man from Cos that Socrates hi gotten rid of part of his toe, not because he disliked the toe itself, or for lack of any in- trinsic merit therein, but because in the courso of human events it had become necessary to prune. Pruning, esteemed sir, and no lack of appreciation for your valuable contribution of contemporaneous prehistoric and sub-millennial history compels me to recommend it to your tender care, And now, in taking unto yourself once more the offspring of your brain, the bright THE JUDGE. up, I beseech you, tenderly, for it is fashioned slenderly, and in the classic dialect of Spring- field, Mass., is light-waisted in the extrem Your **Views of the Papilionaceous Nature of the Buckwheat Cake ” are enclosed here- with. As they are valuable, please send me a receipt by return mail. I beg to seize this opportunity to renew the assurance of my most distinguished consideration. JOHN PAUL BOCOCK. The Belly and the Members. (Revised Version) Tue Members of the Body once rebelled against the Belly. ‘1 couldn’t have the around and do nothing,” said the Nor could J,” aaid the Eye. “Now wipe off your Chin and don’t get on your Ear,” replied the Belly.‘ Lord knows I am going to do some blowing, too,” said the Nose. ‘* This ’ere beats all I ever heard of,” said the Auricular Appendage. ‘1 | know the weaknesses that the flesh is heir to,” said the Hair, ‘but you are the baldest fraud I ever struck.” ** These remarks are not very palatable to me,” said the Mouth, and I shall try to get out of this squabble, if T have todo it by the skin of my feeth.” “You can’t run us for a minute,” said the Feet and Legs. ‘Go in, I'll back you,” said the Back. dn’t call on me,” said the Knee. ‘¢ We want a hand in this,” said the Hands, ‘* Two Arms! at once.” “You'll soon sleep this off and come to your fodder, all of you,” said the Belly, and so they did. P. 8. RYMAN, Tne emt call love ‘* the toothache of the heart.” Yes, but by gum, French love is too thin; gold will stop the decay of that kind. They ought to know a Yankee girl withasweettoothin, She cures the malady. Innocent Childish Sports. I a town in Illinois a lady well known to every body in the place died, and as is the custom in country towns, most of the in- habitants turned out to the funeral. A lady friend wus particularly anxious to go, and not having any one with whom to leave her little girl, concluded to take heralong. After the funeral services were over, the undertaker, as usual, invited the congregation to ‘pass around and view the remains.” The little child had never before seen a dead person, and gazed as if fascinated. The corpse was that of a person who had died of consump- tion, and was a most unpleasant sight, for the lips were drawn back from the mouth, leaving the teeth, which were very prominent, exposed. When suger time came, the little girl was missing, and a vigorous search about the neighborhood did not bring her to light. At last some one thought of the parlor, which like all parlors in little country villages, was kept closed and darkened ex |cept when visitors were expected. Her mother opened the door and there was the child, stretched out on two chairs in the middle of the room, Her s were shut and her mouth working in afearful manner, “0, my darling! my darling! what is the | matter?”” screamed her mother, thinking | she was in a fil | The child opened her eyes, raised her hand and whispered. ** Keep still! but my teeth !” | I'm all dead H. AL Don’t speak. B In tHE Hoyt will case, trying to prove | insanity, a man testified that he had tuned | the Hoyts’ piano for fifteen years, and that Miss Hoyt always seemed perfectly sane | while he was there, That settles it. A MARTYR TO MEDICIN “Good morning, Doctor, did you perform the operation on patient ? OLp Doctor—* Yes, we took off two legs, one arm, and the top of his head.” Y. D.—** What was the matter with hin?” found he had an ulcerated pimple.” winged butterfly which has for weeks and Y. D.—* But, Doctor, what made him so sick ?” weeks battened on your midnight oil, take it Why, I suppose the medicine we gave him.” comicbooks.com