Judge — October 13, 1888 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

JUDGE THE PAIL, THE SPONGE, AND THE KI-YI; OR, THE THE SEERESS. DEMONSTRATION OF EXPANSIVE FORCE. And $0, my dainty maiden, Indeed! my vengeful maiden, With looks so wondrous wise, I “*shall surely come to harm?” You" cantella body’snature Can a body care whose fortune Just by gazing in his eyes?” Thus is traced upon his palm? ‘Ah, hat my modest maiden, © ho! my scornful maiden, ‘And are you then so meek? —_“*Frost the loitering blossom nipo”* Tcan teil a body's secret ‘Thank a body, then, whose kisses By the blushes on her cheek! Shield the rose-bloom of thy'lips! ‘What now, my darling maiden ? ™ Fate doth change, I now can see"— Let a body be the prophet! “All my fortune lies in thee.” -HE THOUGHT IT VERY MEAN. Political veteran—* \t_ makes me tired to hear a fel- ike you, who hasn't got out of his swaddling clothes, talk about the tariff. Youthful enthusiast— Well, | may not know very much about the tariff, but I’m not so mean asto twit a fellow about his clothes.” IN DEATH DIVIDED. WO men met at heaven's gate. Saint Peter wisely chose to let himself and pass his own sentence. ‘The first to claim attention stood up proudly before the saint, and appeared to consider his contemplated en- trance into heaven merely an episode in his career. “What have you succeeded in accomplishing on earth ?” was the saint's sole question, “Lhave read the best hundred books, and seen all the finest sights, and met all the men worth meeting. I have helped to conquer kingdoms, and never let slip an opportunity for effecting anything,” was the reply. Saint Peter turned to the other and repeated his question. “Alas!” replied the man, disconsolately, “I have accomplished very little. I'am only beginning to learn how to arrive at the wisdom hidden within books, have never been out of my native country, and have always longed for an opportunity to meet more of the great spirits who dwell on earth, I have never succeeded in conquering my own desires, and one of the saddest of unpardonable things about my life seems to have been a natural and ineradicable propensity for letting slip every opportunity for making a mark it the world.” ‘The golden gate had swung ajar when the man began speaking, and Saint Peter now motioned him to enter, saying, “It is indeed a rare day in lendar which brings a soul so aptly fitted to enjoy the adv of As to you"—to applicant number one, who was about to enter—" 1 am afraid our accommodations are not such as would meet the approval of so illustrious a guest, and"—as the gate swung to with a bang—"I doubt if the fledglings within would be able to derive much benefit from your socie RATHER CHILLY. “T have rélatives,”” remarked Jones one day,“ with whom I am anything but intimate. We are cousins of the fifth degree — below zero.” MR. CROWLEY OF CENTRAL PARK. He was only a droll young chimpanzee, Wh could neither write nor make his mark, And was called with a comical di Mr, Crowley of Central parl Yet a very wonderful fame had he. Many an actor his Nor win, when his form lies cold and stark, An editorial in the Tribune Like Mr. Crowley of Central park, Late trapeze player, poor dead buffoon! ‘And many a poacher upon life's joys, Bagging his spoils with a snarl and bark, ‘To-meaner uses his life employs Thali Mr. Crowley of Central park, Late jestet at court of the girls and boys. For the cunning beast that can cheat dull care, ‘And break a tooth of that hungry sharic Who lightens the pack that the poor must bear, Like Mr. Crowley of Central park, Isa better man than the poacher there. No more, poor clown ! will your pranks beguile Life's humdrum toil and ceaseless cark: You will be “set up" in a life-like style, And hold levees in a crystal ark, With a very fixed and A/aré smile. Then au revoir, with a kind regret; Death interfered in your jolly lark: ‘And many a child's dear eyes are wet For Mr. Crowley of Central park BOTANICAL. ‘The dearest monkey they ever met. MAY mILRY Sart, The Night-blooming Serious. comicbooks.com