Judge — August 29, 1885 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

We made the run from Kansas City to | . Louis by way of the Missouri aving at night. The porter in charge of our car, a big as black as the devil was ever painted, made a rush for Josh Brown and took pos: ion of his grip, etc., almost us soon as he ot within hatling distance of the train, | Massa Brown, I'se glad to timed, “Paddy Murphy | never see yer again, sah.” “Why, Morphy, how are ‘you, and) what are you doing so far West, my man?” | “I'm a Pullman. porter now, Massa Brown, Come dis way, gemmen, dis yer’s | my kyar, Mind de step, sah?” And _Tead- ON THE ROAD. d the decanter. ***T wouldn’t do that,’ said Bob. “And why not?” «*The darky will work the racket over again, that’s all.” o you think it was Murphy who swigged my cognac, Bob? Very well, if I catch that nigger, and I’m sure to if he’s the culprit, Pll tix him in such shape that will be surely virtuous ever after, Now go to bed like a good fellow and leave me to med- itate ve nee.” In the morning before going out I said to Murphy, ‘1 must warn drinking anything you ms You know Mr. Bi ind in my pl rgs is here a good deal and un, boy, against | “Murphy was whistling like a martingale on a whiflle-tree and thumping a pillow vig orously—as healthy a looking coon as I ever saw. “He looked tip as I came in. “*For Heaven's sake, my poor fellow, what is the matter?’ I exclaimed. * You look sick—e: r “*Nuflin’s de matter, Boss, all right.’ | **Give me your wrist, Murphy. Why your pulscheats like lightning and—my dear man, you're in a high fever. Don’t you feel badly?’ . “I think his conscience must have teased him, and that added to my earnest’ manner and words worked on his’ imagination, for ing the way the coon guided us into the | is apt to leave some of his chemicals lying | he admitted: sleeper, and depositing the lug Josh to excuse him while he att his other duties, “Well, Josh, I'll be blessed if that isn’t the first Ethiopian witha Hibernian nome or Irishman with a sable epidermis that Tever ran across,” remarked Cusby. “Whieh is he?” ze begged nded to “ He's a dyed-in-the-wool nigger, Gua, and no mistake. He was born a slave on the plantation of a fellow of the name of Murph, and took the name of his m ou know that is com- mon cnough. I've a good story to tell you boys about Murphy, and a true one. Let’s go forward and turn a little mon into smoke while the berths are being made up and I'll give you the snap.” «You see, my acquaintance with Mur- phy dates back to my college days,” Josh related, when we had lighted up and were ortably settle room was in a business block in the town and I used to take my meals at a restaurant. I em- ployed Marphy to take charge of my room and that sort of thing. There were a number of other men who slept in the building and among them was a medical dent, Bobby Boggs by name, whom I cronied with a good deal and who was in the habit of putting in a good Ceal of his loose time in my den, — Tis quarters ad- joined mine, and Murphy acted es cham- Lermaid for both of us. ‘The moke used to wake me in the morning and slick up the place while I was out at breakfast, you seo. in Missi Now, when I came back froma vacation in my junior year, I brought with me a demijohn of fine cognac. I filled a colored cut glass decanter which I kept in plain view on a hanging shelf and locked up the rest of the booze. Well, one night, perhaps ten days after my return, [ was awakened out of a sound sleep by Bobby Boggs who knocked | at my door with a demand for a glass of that brandy. He was suffering from colic or somotking; you see. I got out of bed, ted the gas, reached for the decanter | poured him out a good big enifter, brag- ging all the while about the excellent quality of the stuff. Bobby took a big mouthful and then, to my surprise, squirted the whole | business over the floor.” “Ts that what you call a necktie of the | gods? Why, man, you nearly poisoned me,’ he declared excitediy. ‘In my opinion its nothing but 1102. Taste it yourself if you dare.’ “Tsampled the goods gingerly and then immediately offereda humble apology. ‘The bottle, you sce, had been emptied by some one and then refilled with water. “I gave Bobby a glass out of the demijohn and re- about. They are all of them deadly poisons, Murphy, and I'don’t want you to monkey with them. I have no desire to attend a blackberrying picnic at this time of year. ««*Bress my soul, Massa Brown,” he ex claimed earnestly, ‘I never don’t touch nuf- fin, sho’s yo born, Yo sholy don't spect Murphy, sah, ob foolin’ along ub what don’t b'long to *im?? “+That’s all right, boy, I’m not com- plaining of you.” I'm only giving youa warning.’ And with that I went out slam- ming the door. “But I didn’t repair to the hash joint as usual. I clapped my eye to the keyhole and saw my dusky chambermaid make directly for that decanter. He so fur regarded my caution as to smell before tasting, but one sip satisfied him that he had not to do with Bogg’s chemicals and he straightway took a big sw “I went to Bob’s room without further delay, and acquainting him with my discov- | ery, asked his cooperation in the scheme I | had devised the night before. He joyfully consented and hastened to complete the pro- cess of construction, for Boggs was arraying himself when I entered, while I returned to Murphy and my room, “«*To tell de Ls Brown, I don’t feel zackly rt? “© Of course not. I knew you didn’t. Why, you poor nigger, you are deadly You're as white a sheet. You ely didn’t drink from any bottles in this room?’ ° “Not edzack] Lawd! O, Lawd!?” “*Let up on that and tell me if it was the big colored decanter you drank out of. If it was you're a dead nigger sure.’ “© And will I sholy die, ) 1 Brown, Lain’t done ready fer to die yit, Boss.” “Lie down on the sofa, Murphy, while I go for Dr. Boggs. I don’t think he can help you, but I’Il call him,’ and with that lit out leaving him for keeps. Bob returned with me diately “Why, Murph he exclaimed, starting back with well simulated « * Are you as bad as th; Is it true th you drank some of that deadly spiri frumenti, the most active poison know I know he has, Josh,’ he says to me, “See, his face turns from white to luc and blue to red—asure indication. Don’t you feel a horrible pain across the stom- ach, Murphy, a burning sensation at the hase of the brain and the tortures of the amned generally all over?” “I'm gwine to die, Ma know Lis,’ and Murp to suffer so intensely, pitching about and wailing, that I really to think the poor ignorant nigger would go up with a merry noise, and that directly. “Can't you give him an emetic, Bobby,” I said, ‘I hate to see the wretch die with- out something being attempted,’ | I'm afraid he has had the poison down too long, Josh, but its all I can do. See here, Murphy,’ he said, pulling a vial out of his pocket and shaking the ¢ who had fallen into a sort of stupor. this; it’s your last chance.’ Murphy make a inove. He laid there breathing heavily. His face was of a leaden hue and cold perspiration stood on his forehead. — thought he was a goner, sure. “° Murphy, if you don’t open your mouth and take this medicine, I'll open it for you with a red-hot poker.” | “The threat had the desired effect. ‘The whole front of his head opened, revealing a Mamoth Cave equipped with a’ fine display of stalagmites and stulactites, and in went an enormous dose of tartar emetic. “After that experience you. might tempt Patrick Murphy with cold’ chicken or even iced water melon and call the turn every deal.” . wd’s truf, Ma Massa Brown; O, appeared Se Ss AN > AEG ip A comicbooks.com