Judge — August 8, 1885 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

is the matter with this thing? me, will you?” “Ilo, ho,” Open it for langhed Gus in. great glee. ison you again, Boniphiz. hat and it don’t open. it’s , and a very badly busted. one, my | dear sir. Boniphiz U've got both the dead | open and shut on you this trip.” LL. Lay Little Classics. THE WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS, The more I delve into antiquities the more I become convinced of the fact that the people of the nineteenth century missed a great deal by not being born sooner; and even when I was grinding grammar in col- ®, it oceurred to me that the ancients had the advantage of us in the matter of learning Latin and Greek, and also in many other things relating to classic lore. The one gi thing the Greeks and Ron med to want to know about a stranger was, not w he drank or smoked, or whether he had killed his man, but whether he preferred liberty to death. If} he did, he was all right, whether he was a | tramp ora tetrarch, or both; and if he did | not, he was N. G. with them, even though | joon or a skating rink, or even that I have 8 se tholdi’s “ Baby ” is set up to hold a ligh Diogenes did when he was looking for al man. Diog. was not the only person in history who sought a man; some go out be- tween the ac one, and some stay out I was recently reading an essay on Cassar, and the author took occasion to note how | much Latin he worked into his books. My early interviews with Cusar were not very lucid, for as nearly as I can now recollect, it took me half-a-day on such a matter to thoroughly comprehend the xvi. section of his first book regarding his trip to Gaul. It always seemed to me that it would require a great deal of gall to ma thor put ont such unintelligible senter he cared anything for the patience of his readers. ‘That section, Iam told, is written in in- direct discourse. I hope so, for that takes a stain off Cwsa ame and shows that he had probably been editor of a puzzle de- partment in some Roman newspaper and by mistake had incorporated one of his best enigmas into his histor: ‘There is still one more explanation of the premnce of this chapter. Itis said, I be- ive, that Cesar could write and dictate to another writing at the same time, and this chapter was, doubtless, written when he was just beginning to try that trick, At one time Cresar was very much stuck on Cleopotra, but she didn’t take his shape much and so he did not have the felicity of dying for her. When I was in Italy the third time I copied anumber of inscriptions that were as ancient as thunder, I took them to one of my old Latin teachers to decipher, and to my astonishment he lost his philosophy blasphemed my optics. I give two or three of them below in hopes that some less haughty antiquarian may aid me in my search for truth. “ Hor N. Swoggle Fecit S. P. Q. R.” “© Silentium Sit.” “ Passus Sum Jam.” «Jam Pius Aeneas.” FRED S. RYMAN, |fried spring ch THE JUDGE. THE BLADE Yih YM MWh Ny Yi LE Lh t his little wit, Or was walking in a dream? T suppose it does There are st metamorphoses; But it puts all in the shade To note how s impering spoon Becomes a driving blade; AND THE SPOONS, For ale Are And to hack them thro Is worth a dozen spo My temper has been sorely tri By the changin Though you, my have always been A helpmate true and meet But it makes my old heart y ‘To watch these silly For their foolish ways recali the days When you and I were spoons. Hottest Day of The Season. Sa. M.—Whew! Whew!! ometer, eighty-tive in t 9A. M.—Buckwhea ade, mired in melted asphalt walk of Central Park. ‘Tip of tall hat just visible. Watermelons boil. 11 A. M.—Three chimneys on fire from t. Roasted horse drops dead in the Grace church steeple melting and dripping on the sidewalk. Hens laying boiled eggs. 1 p, M.—Fisherman hooks a live boiled bass in the Bay. Deviled crabs crawling on the beaches. New roast potatoes dug fresh from the hill Tlen hatches a brood of ckens. Tribune building vane droops and wilts. Steel pens inside too hot for editor’s use. Mr. Reid calls for an ‘iced quill.” 2p. M.—Sun's ink boiling. Two office boys playing iced water on Mr. Dai Aspiring bar- | N cakes fried on the | | sleep. Man | plane whissy! melts to a gr spot on Broadw Metal suspender buttons and nickels sticking in it. Tramp dissolves on City Hall Park bench. v Too poor. “Only shriveled up le beer. 3p. M.—MHerald editor's intellect fired! Writes his first brilliant article. 4p. w.—Thunder and lightening. public thought at meridian: ‘oo hot to Too hot to eat. ‘00 hot to live by thunder! Too hot to wear clothes. Wish I was a Hotentot. No! ot a He Am hot nuff, now, Wish was a “ tot hot. By sh’nay I think Wl take a‘ Not a hot-tot; cold tot! The cold makes one feel hot after little while ha-ha! Foun’ a j cold joke or hot jok less sce; mus’ be nuther joke in wether sumwhere; gimme whisky plane nothing in it; plane whisky his level bess. = Nin’y Thunder! Mus’ drink. “Take little wine for stum-m sick an offen infirmity,”—that’s me; gimme nuther Whoop! Some -entot. tot. comicbooks.com