Judge — September 5, 1885 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

speaking, had a { my gore—and generally fi ey time. Finally, regular parrot and anon I got Migg near the partition, and—say, you fellows have seen a Graco-Roman wrestler get a man on his back and with his hands clasped under the chin throw him clean ver his head? Well, that’s what I did to Mig, He went sailing over the partition and landed with a crash among a lot of cof- fin plates bearing such inscriptions as «Rest? and ‘He is not dead but sleepeth,’ and there he laid quietly while I resumed my clothes and helped’ myself to a fresh cigar, the first one Meroe become, in the course of the fray, considerably demor- | alized. “And after that, I suppose, all hands | turned to and dessicated you previous to | your being given the grand bounce,” I hazarded, “You're wrong again, Lang, my boy. Of course, I got out of the shop as quickly as I could, but the next day Migg sent for me to his residence. I found him in bed, a cimen, I promise you.” I commenced apologizing, but ‘the old man stopped me with a question: ” “low many times did you call on Bier on the Ist., Mr. Brown?’ ” ven times, sir.’ ” nd did Bier use you as you did «Not every time, Mr. Migg,’ I answered truthfully. ‘The first and second time I called, he only swore at me and the house, but from the third time he used me pretty much as I used you.’ ” “And do you say you went back four times after your first licking in your en- deavors to place a bill??” “You've called the turn, Mr. Migg.”” | ““*What salary do we pay you, Mr. Brown?’”” “ ©$1,500, sir ” ““+From the first of this month, the cashier will pay you 900. Yes, Mr. Brown, it is harder work selling goods now than it was when I was on the road,’ ” L. L. LANG, THE JUDGE. QUENCHING A FIEND. (A suggestion to mgfering humanity.”) “© How'd do, Gibbs! Is it yes, 1 see—er—Good day!” Not out of Barometers. Business in the exchat has been dul summer, but horse-racing, regattas, base- ball matches and the concomitants of pool- selling, poker and faro at watering places have helped to make “business” lively. The gambler, in some capacity, is bound to be “ the barometer of our prosperity.” “TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP, THE BOYS ARE MARCHING.” hot enough f— —. Ah? Human Moths. Going back into the fire is one of the strongest ons of human nature. Nota hotel or theatre burns, but some one who has escaped insists on returning thre the gates of the Inferno, Singularly enov the objects for which they re-enter the fatal flames are so trifling that they would not bestir themselves about them if the houses were not on fire, A gentleman returned into the burning Brooklyn theatre to get a borrowed opera | glass which he had left on the seat. It enabled him to see his way clear to the golden gates, A lady returned to a burning hotel to get afanon which I had written my name. She survived, but has made it so warm for me ever since—for I could not help marry- ing her—that I have often regretted that her devotion did not have a more Dantesque conclusion, IT never knew any man who returned into the flames to save his wife, but I knew one man who rescued his mother-in-law. | “Why did you not save your wife,” I asked. | “Thad been so used to being abused by my mother-in-law,” he replied, “that 7 thought she would give me a terrible | tongne-thrashing if I let her burn up. My head was confused at the time, and I did not see that my reasoning was unsound, till it was too late.” One of the strangest cases I ever knew was that of a poet. He ran back into a house just as the rafters were falling, to get areceipted bill. His former creditor was dead, and he had no hopes of ever securing such another treasure. (He escaped death Ly a miracle, and has lived ever since on the credit which having a receipted bill } given him, His life is « cold morsel whic he | picked up on the edge of his own hot grave. comicbooks.com