Judge — August 28, 1886 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

Boy—" Don't cut my hair very short, Mr. Snip.” Barber—"T guess. th going to be war with Mexico —which reminds meof a story of the late war. My brother, you know, joined a cavalry regiment "— Boy—‘‘ Not too short, Mr. Snip.” THE APPETITE FROM BOSTON. A hearty, Home-made Ap- petite from Boston entered a York boarding house for kfast. “Hello!” exclaimed a. sin- gle Mutton Chop in feigned Astonishment, * what are you doing Here?” “I'm here on Business Appetite impres- I'm Going to get y with you.” “ Try it,” said the Chop, set- Br But there isn’t Enough of id the Appetite faintly, isfy an Appetite from Rhode Island, to say nothing of one from so Great a place as Boston.” “T thought you'd soon Find that you have no Business | here,” sneered the Chop, turn- ing its burned Side up. “The Appetite was dismayed and began to Shrink up into | Itself. “Hello, Boston !” sung out a square Inch of fried Mackerel a Side Dish; ‘aren't you 's your mother know ‘That’s what I told Him,” said the Chop.‘ He was quite Impudent at first, but he is Be- cinning toWiltnow. Say, my down-east Friend, what would you Rather have if you didn’t | 1 ve me?” Jas {” answered the Appe- tite timidly, looking in Vain for Aiape: OUR WAR ARTICLE--THE BOY AND THE BARBER. Barber— And one day in an engagement he charged at ihe side of Phil. Sheridan. Down the hill they rushed” Boy—"Not too short, Mr. Snip.” Barber—‘ Threw himself with- out a thought of his own danger before his commander and received | ten bullets through his cap and coat. And so, although nobody knows it, my brother saved Grant's life.” Boy—“ Not short—don’t forget.” | per's hav write his account of that thrilling fight, but he prefers to live com- fortably upon the pension grabs he made lately—and so I hope we| shall have no war with Mexico.” Barber —‘‘At breakneck speed; so fast, in fact, that before they could stop them- selves they ran plump into the rebel rifle pits and "—— Boy—Not too short, you know.” Barber—‘The Century and Har- asked my brother to Boy—‘‘Great J-e-e-e-rusalem |” | its these—it might have Bean.” Potato, The Appetite was fast going. favorite Edible, “of all sad Words of tongue or pen, the saddest are “Might have, but it can't,” said a newly Arrived, very black Sliver of fried “We don't Associate with Beans here. Try me.” “Waiter,” said its Owner, ‘‘ get me some Bread and Coffee.” “T heard there was Somebody from Boston who wanted to see Me,” said a | dark, lukewarm Liquid a moment Later; * ‘much honored, I’m sure. Where ishe?” The Owner of the fading Appetite took an eager Sip from the cup. “It's another case of the same,” gasped the Appetite. bean Coffee, but it isn’t.” but Paused in despair. | and the Bread laughed loudly. “Tt might have The Owner turned to the slice of Bread, broke it, His poor little Appetite had gone Entirely. The Chop | | and the square inch of Mackerel, and the Potato, and the Lukewarm Liquid, | “We'll teach these cultured Upstarts what's what!” they exclaimed in chorus- | Then the Owner of the lost Appetite went up-stairsa \d cast up Accounts to determine how long it would be before he should Starve on cigarettes and ‘croton water. F. R. BURTON. Barber— My brother, who was riding directly behind Sherman— did I say Sheridan t —that was a mistake—saw all the rebel muskets aimed at his (Hancock's) breast "— Boy—" Not too short, re- member.” SIDE WHISPERS. Once Fdipus said to the Sphin **Tean solve your old rid And straightway he did Unravel the hid, And the citizens paid for the drinx. After all it is the bad child who gets the palm. The man who won't help | himself—God help him ! The only waste aspendtbrift ever minds is a woman's. Wild oats grow the quickest, but they bring forth no grain. Life is full of checks—so look out you don't get some forged ones, A good Irishman on dying congratulates himself that in the Lord’s land there are no land Lords. When a young man of the present day asks you to teach him how to play poker, don't | once. A poet asks, ‘To what star shall I direct the aerial bark of my fancy ?” The dog star would not be bad—especially for a bark. One of the foreign ex- changes speaks of an exasper- ated crowd throwing a wife- beater into the river Mersey. This is the foreign idea of tempering justice with Mer- | sey. comicbooks.com