Judge — April 24, 1886 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

8 JUDGE. some oddah man befo' yo' kin eotch up wid hit tefmorrow; an’ befo' yo’ know w'at yo’ er abo't, loafin’ roun’ doin’ nuffin’, de win’ ergot roun’ intoe de nawth an’ de leaves begin toe drap offen de trees an’ yo’ a'nt got nuffin toe ‘joy Christmas wid. Dis yer puttin’ off de be- ginnin’ ob a job er laik de woman peelin'a onion. Ef yo’ keep puttin off, de season er gone fust t'ing yo’ know; an’ ef she keeps peel- in’, de onion er gone de fust t'ing she re'lizes. De debbil, gem'n, am de o'ny one dat kin make a good libbin’ outen idleness, an’ luck won't take a man across a ditch onless he jumps. Yo! awtah be shamed toe—” The thread of the old gentleman's discourse was broken by the blare of a brass band on the next block, and the company, with the excep- tion of Neverdie, who is a little deaf and some- | NN TINA Say ASS A RIGHTEOUS REVENGE. BY THE LATER HUGH CONWAY. ENRY DESMOND was my best friend, and yet I killed him, It isa terrible story and it all comes back to me as vividly as if the tragedy had oc- curred yesterday eve instead of ten long years ago. Henry and I were playmates in childhood. We ¥ were companions in * youth and friends in - after life. From the constant communion of our congenial spirits But listen. On the morning of the 23d of January the body of Henry Desmond was fourti in a snow bank near a restaurant famous for its midnight parties. There was money in his pockets and none of his valuables had Leen touched. Investigation showed that death had resulted from a sudden blow dealt by a person unknown. The affair created the greatest excitement. Desmond's popularity and the absence of any motive for the crime intensified public interest indescribably. Who was the guilty man? ‘The question was asked and repeated. Feel- ing ran high. The detectives went to work, They found many clues and no results. At last they discovered that Desmond and myself had been paying attention to the same young what rheumatic, hastened to join the proces: sion, while Old Chocolate remarked, ‘‘Sogoes de wol’. Yo! offah a frog a suit of clo’ an’ plenty ob ‘musement on dry lan’ an’ he ull jump back intoe de pon’.” J._A, WALDRON. HIM. TOO MUCH Brown (reading the paper)—‘*I see Stone- wall Jackson's old war charger has just died.” Mrs. Brown (inquisitively)—‘* What did he die of—old age?” Brown (radiantly)—‘‘It doesn’t state, but I guess one of the magazines must have sent a hack-writer down to interview him on the late had been born a feeling of dearest affection. And yet I killed him. Am I sorry? Yes. Do I really regret it? No. True I mourned the loss of a friend cut | off in the bloom of his young life, but he merited his fate and I have no regret. For mark this! There are times when de- liberation is out of the question, when a man must act without regard to the consequences. | This was such a time. | Henry Desmond mortally insulted me. For this insult I killed him. | The story shall tell itself. that I days. Heaven knows do not want to live over again those 3 Marguerite Winston. Ah! She was a beautiful creature witha |figure of perfect symmetry and grace, with eyes of unutterable light and loveliness and | with a character as pure and refreshing as the early morn of a summer day. What did Ido? I kept closely to my office. | L was as dumb as an oyster. I said nothing. | But this could not last. | One day astrangercamein. I felt my blood | leave my face and my hand trembled. | ‘Is this Mr, Wentmore?” he asked. | “Tt is.” “Did you lunch with Mr. Henry Desmond comicbooks.com