Judge — July 3, 1886 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

JUDGE. late the neighborhood. He had been compelled to reduce the rent down stairs and some tenants next door had moved out altogether. He was very sorry, but it was a serious matter. Yet Mag’s father bravely defended her by saying she was the best child he ever knew— | When asleep. In nature everything that emits sound I believe is regulated. It thunders when there 1s milk to be soured; the clock strikes so the blind may know when to get out their appetites, and the bass drummer | pounds his instrument, not that he is needlessly cruel, but because he’s paid for it. If you can imagine continuous thunder, and a clock that like a ward-heeler never quits striking, and a bass drum run by steam all rolled into, one, then you may have some notion of what the Hornet is. If, as alleged, a special sound indicates a special want, it’s plausible to suppose she simply wants to be killed. ‘To her father's credit he yearns to be her executioner. But certain trivial objections have been interposed, which I doubt not ought to be overruled. Mag is always in trouble, like a baseball umpire. If, perchance, she |stops blowing on her harmonica it's a sure sign that she ain't well. We all exclaim in chorous ** What ain't the matter now ?” Yet Mag |has as much brain as if brought up on a fish diet, and the nerve of a female book agent, with a breast as tender as a boarding-house chicken—and besides she’s so very high-toned, especially at night, when even low tones are anything but popular. Sh whole orchestra, a kind of house organ (one without stops), or a country dinner-horn when blown by the hired girl, Her mother says she’s a trump, but her father thi she's more inclined to be a trumpet. For a midnight prima donna whose regular programme is a solo two hours long it is certainly ‘ very generous of her to throw in so many encores. BO IO EDWARD DUFFY. Hugh MeIntyre lay in | to him that it was for_refreshmi Hugh is located in Chicago and the vault just OUR MAG : I H absurdity will be apparent to all MAG. M'GINNIS'S 4TH OF JULY. We have several children at our house, and some of these infants are more or less alive. Among them is a sandy-haired, blue- eyed three-year-old—quick, bright, wiry and tough, a cyclone of sound with arms and legs attached, She was evidently made} when material was a little scarce, but when the quality thereof was way up. She has \\, the lungs of an auctioneer and the voice of ‘acalliope. Sho was christened Mag, but is \ more generally known as “The Hornet.” } When she came she brought her voice with her. It's in C, ten sharps, though she can sail right up to X, Y, Z without calling on the engineer for more steam. When the neighbors first heard it they naturally supposed the r to’be performing a surgical operation on somebody in our yard. She sleeps all day, and at night very kindly supplies the music for the matches in costume. Sleeping at night is rather unfashion- able in our street now. From sheer force of habit the neighbors go to] bed, of course; but instead of sweetly slumbering they pound the pillows | all night and vainly wish themselves dead. Mag's father once thought insert a pillow into each of her lungs. His plan was to stuff in the evening and take ’em out late the next afternoon— at no particular hour, But there was some trifling objection interposed EM KOwAnth, pee eae twa. dont understand. just whabitrae any): Shure, Mr, McGinnis, an’ whoi don't yo wait fill avenin to st off yer Our landlord, much against his will, one informed the }°°"Gch! Missus Murphy, it: mu Do Hornet's parents that he really feared she would eventually depopu- | yez suppose Oi can say in the THE DECLINE OF A GLASS OF BEER. Coney Island, comicbooks.com