Judge — December 11, 1886 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

YE FISHERMA O sell-fish is ye fisherman, He'd sell you his own sole ; He weighs on scales his net profits, As he goeth from pole to pole. He cometh of ye fin-ish tribe, If you could trust his tail, Or hear his son; that flappeth well When ye father him doth whale ; Who rubbeth o'er ye skinned plaice And flounders as he squalls. Yet oftener ye cry of fish Re-echoeth through ye hauls, He liveth by hook, and not by crook— That is not in his line ; Some strength within his mussels lies, ‘A pull he don’t decline. His wants are few, yet will he oft ‘A good eel try to hold ; His gold he turns not in ye smelt, But turns ye smelt to gold. No crabbed disposition his, His pleasure ne'r abates, And een in summer, it is said, Is sometimes seen with skates, Ye bird he catcheth on ye perch, Ye perch upon ye fly; To spare ye rod is not his rule That wanteth fish to fry. He hath an eye for lovely seines, He loveth ye early roes; And watcheth by ye scallop-ed bank Ye shadow, how it goes. GEORGE BIRDSEYE. OLD CHOCOLATE’S TARGET PRACTICE. Hit and Miss Shots, with Now and Then a Bullseye. Feah ob de debbil am a twin toe want. De man in de hollah doan’ s’pishen w'at’s goin’ on obah de hill. Yo’ nebbah ‘preshate de cheapness ob advice ’till yo’ mule balks. De man wid one pig in de spring has mighty good po'k in de fall. Ef de av'ridge niggab had half de faith in a w'itewash brush dat he fas'ens toe a fish-pole, dar ud be fewah maaks on de slate at de groc'ry. J. A. WALDRON, EXEMPLIFIED. “Progress” and “ Poverty.” THAT SETTLES IT. Dentist (about to administer gas)—“ Anything the matter with your heart—any heart trouble?” Patrent—‘‘ No; I'm married.” WAS NOT APPOINTED, “Sire, here are the recommendations of a young man who desires the appointment of consul to Blank. He is vouched for by many high in authority.” “What do they say are his qualifications, Dan’l?” “He speaks the language of the country fluently, has beet and possesses uther qualities belonging to tlie good Democrat.” “He is not a mugwump, then ?” “No, sire.” “Well, that is not an absolute necessity. I think I will appoint him. But stay, Dan'l! What do you say is his name ?” “John Jones, sire.” “Ah! T cannot appoint him.” “Will you pardon me, sire, if] inquire the reason ?” “Yes, Dan’l.” “What is it, sire?” “ His grandfather was a newspaper man.” J. M. A. in jail, THE MODERN SAMSON, “I'm looking for a backer,” said a dilapidated indi- vidual to a capitalist. “If Ihad the money to chal- lenge Sullivan I could make a fortune in no time.” “Challenge Sullivan!” echoed the man with the boodle ; ‘why, a whipper-snapper like you couldn't stand up before him one second.” “That's so,” confessed the man ; ‘I'm no fighter, but I'm a holy terror to talk HIS LITTLE JOKE. “T’ve become quite interested in that poor man,” said a philanthropic old lady to the sheriff, as she pointed to one of the prisoners. ‘He tells me I would be surprised if I knew all he had gone through.” “T guess you would, mum,” said the sheriff; ‘that fellow is the most expert pickpocket in the country.” TOLD THE TRUTH. “What induced you to confess?” asked a ward politician of one of the boodlers. ‘Was it remorse for your crime t” “No,” snarled the quondam city father; ‘it was temorse at being found out.”