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

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

THE POWER OF IMAGINATION. i MU / CONFECTIONERY SALLY (on cake of ice}—* Oh, Tommy, this is im-mense! For all the world like the Central park in winter, an’ whenever I falls, sittin’ down, it feels like a real snow storm !” TRUTH AND FICTION. L T sat where myriad-tinted flowers gre Where ruby-throated humming birds 1 sing— That, singing sweetest melody, took wing, ‘As balmy zephyrs, roving, round me blew ; The earth seemed fairer, void of pain and rue. I heard the playful brooklets murmuring, Tsaw the willow strangest shadows fling, Their slender lines display, conceal, renew. I watched the golden day-orb’s less'ning light, Pursuing slow the occidental wa; Awaiting Luna’s pale, transcendent beam, And Leda’s twins appearing on the sight; Idreamt with Maud I sailed adown the bay ‘Amid the joysof kisses, love and cream. 1. But oh, beshrew the dreamer's tempting art, Deceitful charms of sun, and moon, and star, The thought of white winged yachts beyond the bar, Of cunning Cupid's all-deceptive dart, The love-transfigured soul, th’ ennobled heart ! And oh, beshrew the radiant gleam afar, The falsely-gr: ii ‘ings that mar Our actual liv use the grievous smart ! For th’ golden orb was but the gas turned down, The hun O, yellow bird, thou hast deserved my wrath! Sweet Maud was in a frame, in purp! And as for placid waters, mile on mi I found Td fallen asleep within my bath, NATHAN M. LE ‘A POOR COMBINATION. Broker (casually)—“ I see Cap Williams is in trouble He says that out of seven complaints six have been made by with red hair. The World states that he doesn't like auburn-haired men.” FRIEND (jocos headed man i y)—Of course not, because when he clubs a red- hard for him to see the blood.” THE BOSS ARITHMETICIAN, Brown (who has lost his money on an ace full)—‘‘ The man who can put two and two together is hard to beat.” Mrs. Brown (puzzled)—" What do you mean, my dear ?” Brown (sadly)—‘‘Oh, nothing ; only he's then got four of a kind.” McGUIRE'S WEDDING. BY DAVID LOWRY, YANTY McGUIRE, is it? Him that was born to bad luck? Him that married the widdee O'Toole—her wi’ wan eye? fifty iv she was a day, an’ Sant shure he had just kim over! V there? Well—but I'll tell ye by-an’-by. A more conceited man nor joost Sant: was I niver met—wi’ his red hair stickin’. out like bristles an’ his bow-legs an’ his cock-eye—he was a beauty ! The widdee had a tongue as long as from here to the churchyard, Faith ! they say it was the death ov O'Toole. Shure he was nivir known to do more than take a sup to wet his lips until her tongue was on him. They might made well—it was Larry O'Toole’s luck to get the place for a tavern, an’ there was a dale of travel by the doore. ‘ud be you I'd meet an’ I'd trate you, an’ you couldn't go out w returnin’ the compliment, and that was the way Larry’s trade built up. Shure whin he died Oi thought the trade wad go to McGinnis around the corner. Divil the go! The widdee had howld o’ it, an’ she kep it. Iv iveran so much as crooked his finger the widdee grabbed him and pushed him out. Well, the first thing we knew Santy was on the job at the bar. day he took the widdee out in a buggy. She weighed two hundred pounds, Santy looked like a feather beside her. The widdee wanted to call on Tom O'Toole joost to show she had a man wi’ her. There was a ditch near Tom O'Toole’s doore, an’ whin Santy dhrove up didn’t the widdee jowlt off an’ drap into the ditch ? Between the “sough” in the ditch that knocked the breath out 0’ her an’ the wather runnin’ down her throat she was like todhrown?) Whin the weight o’ the widdee was out 0’ the buggy the horse s! forrard wid the bit atune his teeth, an’ there was Santy bare-headed, bawlin’ at the top o' his * sawin’ the rein Well, the widdee was dreadful angry. She was not goin’ to forgive him at all, but the O’Tooles prevailed on her to look over it. But she laid on wi’ her tong’ Hadn't he an ounce o’ wit to lave her there to dhrown? Was he made o° sugar that he would melt iv he stepped ther? Had he nivira sound leg under him—nothin’ but a e a rainbow? There was her summer silk done for an’ her bonnet fit only for the ash-bar'l. What could he do but swear by this an’ by that it was not in his power to prevent it? Howsivir, that same buggy ride did the business, It wasn’t a wake until he wheedled her into marriage. I dare say, if the truth of the matter were towld, Tom O'Toole an’ his bottom o’ it. They were deter ol to give the widdee Tom got out a bottle « mas wel the flowers in May, So they made a barga n’ there. maner nor a stingier man never lived nor Santy McGuire. He w Wan THE UNDERTOW. Bripaet— Och, Pat, but there's a very strong undertow here | Won- der whether it will ne aff 7” P No such luck—nothin’ but death or the divil will iver carry you aft comicbooks.com