Judge — April 28, 1888 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

JUDGE 37 JUDGE'S PHOTOGRAPHS. ner, and votes that she don't care a straw for the fellow who sent her the flowers now swing: ing, now pressed to her breast, and has doubt less forgotten their letters, their quarrels, and all of the rest. She chats where a musical fountain breaks through: a bot: show; she leans on the balcony stairway and watches the gossips below; or smiles as Professor O'Connor relates how “historical France allied to the papal, ete.” 2. . yet longs to be tripping the dance. i! Love is a difficult: problem to every delectable bud—is it poverty, or is it money, or fame, degradation or blood? But, maybe the angel who hovers above her with guardian wings is watching young Nugent, for angels know lots of quite bus things. She trembles while tossing her tresses in pompulour turrets and rows, and smiles fastens the dearest and queerest of her blue or brown curtains and anxiously at the garriage swhip. Then s i and nibbl e ‘ou and [, friend, on the pavement trudge wearily on through the and, panning her eagerness, wonder why we ‘can't be young once . ‘A biush mantles over her temples when first on her sensitive ear the music subdued and rhythin floats out’neath the hall chandelier. ae q \"We7,, ue UL th hee hostess, aul sien pers a eoniplis ex 3 SOCIAL EXTREMITIES. pe ow and vain, imbued with a positive F languor from handling her very first. train. limited, and it was the twenty-ninth The Major De Hulks is exhaustively civil: as, o'clock” at whiel while Mr. Ned Stocks, who knows every filly 3 Mrs. La Bland orstallion that ever cut turf with their hocks, ‘ 2 look pleasantly surpri persuades her to trifle with truffles and fetches - De a salad or ice, Good-natured old Dr. Mon- tressa prescribes her a waltz once or twice, and chuckles the pompous young rector (who DEWITT STEMRY Their set, though very select, is some so el Mrs. De Bored (in a spasm of frankness) ~Youare not; you're tired to death of me, just chaunts from St. Michaelmas’ rail), and angrily scowls at the spinster as Iam of you, Can't we assume five o'clock nommes de plume, ov who fancies “she’s awkward and pale.” wear masks, or do something to freshen us up a little to-each other?” Mrs. La B. (meditatively)—* We might change hou names, blushes are really intended for him? Young Nugent, who skillfully and dogs. Then, you know, we could change each other's briea-brac plays at the practice of voicing the law, sulks dismally, hid in a cor- all around for amusement, and make sweet new blankets and col lars for our new pets.” MR, WHIFFLE'S MASSAGE TREATMENT. 4 Mrs, De B. (enthu- siastically)—""Oh, you dear, let’ A BLOODED ANIMAL. yor git dat ole nag, in de poun’ er de bone yahd Ceasar (who has just appeared on the avenue in the new oc: cupation ofan ash-gath erer, with a gothic horse and a ricketty cart) “Dis yer steed, sah, adescendan’ ob some ob de bes’ Kaintuck, dat ebal run blooded Orenston-— You see, we first gettbe back “then attend to the natural hinge at the tmuscles pliable ; waist—backward— Blooded, huh? I bet yo’ dat yo" kin bury A jack-knifein um an’ not if Sly ' 1 gita drop i = DOMESTIC INFELICITY. “You come hom o' night, Mr. $ what would you say if you came home some time and found I had returned to my fa- ther's? He—**Wha' ‘d I IS MR. BLAINE A SICK MAN? Well, not) muel See next week's Junge for confirmation of this. ue comes the exercise for benefiting the “ You'll excuse me if I rest a moment! * Reckon I'll take a turn myvelf" comicbooks.com