Judge — February 26, 1887 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

SMiape- 5 THE DOUBLE BASS. Behold him there in the or chestra— That chap with the jumbo tiddle— Tho’ placid now is his verte- bra Asa cake on an ice-cold griddle, There will comea time when his spinal chord Will break at the temper ate zone, And you'll wonder how the man can afford Such a slack of bone, Just take him in! frigid thing He seems ina quiet pose ! Like the centre-pole of a circus ring Or ascarecrow waiting for crows; Like a marble bust, or a tyla crust Stuck up ina solemn place, Is the chap that soon will his jugular thrust Orer the wing of the dou- ble-bass, What a ‘The maestro’s baton taps, 's.a stir in the broadcloth seam; ‘The hinge of the spinal column snaps And crooketh the elbow beam: Anon there glides a giant bow O’er the fiddle’s big abdonsen, And the overture, in its easy flow, Seems only a pleasant omen. Hut mark! There's an obligato called With an accelerando spurt, And the way that bridge of size is mauled Imperils the old man’s shirt; For he dives down over the bulging breast Of his ten-foot violin, Ani saws, and saws at the tough old chest cave it in. vags his bow with a jerk and a squeak rising agitato, off-hand scats up the wire-bound peak tung Thomas-cat 0! limb, ¢ to note his vim At the grand finale's racket, I say, as you saw his brisk coat-tails neteoric spatter, And his whole anatomy whiz. lik ime threshing patte ere isn’t a man in the world, I vow, Or in tother orbs of space, That earns his bread by the sweat of his brow Like the chap of the double-bass.” flails WHY LAW COMES HIGH, “How long do you think the case will last # asked a gentleman yer who had charge of a very profitable suit. “Well,” was the reply, “it will take about a week to select a com- and about one day to try the case.” _ HOW IT FELT. * Does your mother ever spank you with a wooden snow-shovel 7” Proudly asked one little boy of another. No, she never did,” was the reply. returned tard plaster on.” “But what does it feel like?” the young philosopher, “like you had a mus- MAKING SURE. i} wane wrprts, | A Letter to Peleg on the Utility of the Sand Bag. Some time ago, my dear Peleg, you asked me whether self-instrue- tion, now so possible in almost every field of knowledge and activi could be gained by an able-bodied young man in the art of self-defence. If I remember exactly, your literal query was whether one could in the privacy of his chamber, by strict attention to business and a sand- z. endow himself with sufficient science to bestow something i pon the occasional slugger who might before proper introduction mistake him for a duffer. I remember, too, the earnest- ness with which you spread out this proposition, and how you wallowed in imagination in the pleasure that would follow the look of mistaken identity on the face of some merely muscular jayhawk who, on occa sion, had knocked loudly at your door supposing the house to be empty, and found you in. Since you honored me with this query I bave scoured the surface of my memory and found beneath the dust and rust of age a picture which comes out the clearer the longer I serub it. Tonce was moved by a desire to surreptitiously educate my hands for the sole purpose of astonishing some pugilist who might feel like poking me through the bars of a natural reserve to discover if I was in to e. Thad in me nothing of that kindly regard for humanity which leads the manager of the menagerie to paint ‘* Beware!” in red letters in divers plac “ Nay,” said I. w who desireth to have fun with me not grumble if the show be worth more than the pi of admission.” I bought gloves and a sand-bag, and while my companions were spending their time and money on ininstrels, draw poker and beer, I burned the midnight kerosene and thumped and danced around’an im- inary antagonist. I mauled the pendulous sand-bag until the stuffing ‘gan to percolate through its threadbare covering. I became so clever that I could knock it bang upagainst the ceiling and get in dexter and sinister blows before it had time to return to the conflict. Then I threw the sand-bag in the ash-barrel, hid the gloves in the sub-cellar, and went out seeking whom I might play with. Events sometimes accommodate themselves to our most ardent de- y I graduated myself from the school of the sand- IT met a rival youth who had long traveled on his reputation sparrer, As a I thought he had traveled far enough to have his ticket ALL THE QUALIFICATIONS FOR SUCCESS. “'T'm lost” exclaimed a man in the street. ly or corporeally #” asked the passer-by. Gricssy—“ You go on the stage? Why, you've no talent.” ; s—“Talent! Why, I've been the defendant in the spiciest kind vorce suit, What more do you want?