Judge — November 24, 1888 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

"Tis rather ridiculous, do you not see? While you have been sitting here, ‘The man just beyond is my own precious lord ‘The lady's your wife, it is she on my word ! It's perfectly shocking ; she should not forget ‘That she is a wife! and he called her ‘my pet. * T thought him as true as a star in its course; Well, I've half a mind—yes, I'll get a divorce. He thinks he is hidden therein the dim light; Thear it again, they are saying good-night Just look at the wretch, see the wéite on his coat!” * My dear, you forget-twe are in the same boat.” WEBST REVISED. From our new pocket-dictionary. Goose—A bird that is not half as silly as he looks, and that is certainly not responsible for the thousand-and-one stupid things that are written with its quills, Congress—A mill where the stones make a fearful clatter, but you never see any flour. CONSOLATION. Bustard (tragicallyy—" 1am ruined— ruined! I can’t pay ten cents on the dolla Friendly—* Don't cut up so, dear fel- low. Just think how much better off you are than your creditors.” AGAINST HIS PRINCIPLES. Tramp—" Madame, will you kindly allow . my good man, And while you're about it, here's a piece of soap and a towel to quench a little of that dirt on your face and hands before winter sets in.” Tramp—* Thanks, madame ; but | make it a rule never to quench more than one thing at a time.” E was handsome and gay; ‘twasa fairsummer night, ‘The moon kindly hiding its too brilliant light. “Tlove you! I love you! I love you so well, How madly I love you I never can tell.” I blushingly sighed as I bent low my head, Yet listened in rapture to all that he said. But hark! what was that ? ‘twas singular sound— A kiss on the sly, “twas a kiss I'll be bound; And pausing, we listened—" But you are not free; It is wrong, it is wicked to make love to me; And, on second thought, as I calely reftect, T fancy my husband, perhaps, might object.”* EARTH IN THE FEMININE GEN- DER. [7 MUST be conceded that there is a fair show for the scattered belief that the earth is a great animal, her veins the rivers, her heart the ocean, and we her parasites. Her traits are most human: she is gleeful when the sun shines, and puts forth a thousand flowery graces to attract his gaze; her airs are coquettish; she knows how to weep, and is often terrible in her throes of agony. She has a fire in her bosom, and our own bodies are composed only of the minerals and juices derived from her. She sleeps, and wakes in a tangle of dreams to be dispelled by the sun's ardent kisses. She has her periods of increase and her periods of rest and inaction, when she veils her face from the sun. She has a handmaid in waiting, who ministers to her fancies when she turns from her lord in excess of happiness and desire of repose. She has a woman's true love of color, and does what cannot always be said of a woman—she never makes a mistake. Tender grays and greens for spring, with garniture of sweet, pale-tinted flowers; in June a deeper tone, with languid roses on her breast and scarlet poppies on her eyelids. As autumn draws near she snatches a handful of remain- ing colors from her wardrobe and decks her- self in russet, purple, crimson, gold and brown, For her period of penance and denial she has left only the passionless white robe or the soft gray veil of the convent nun. Above ali things she has a fondness for birds for trimmings; but soft, my feminine friend! she has never been known to have a scarlet songster skinned for her wearing, and hides all dead and sightless things as soon as possible, leaving it to her swarming parasites to slay and eat or wear each other as they will. Is she not alive? The glad blood bub- bles in her veins, and her great heart throbs Does she not love, and is she not beloved? What, then, is that attraction in the sun which draws her ever, keeping her true to her orbit, with never a faltering step? NOT HIS FIRST ENGAGEMENT. “This is a lovely ring, my dear,” she said, “and it’s a thousand pities it's a little too small.” “Never mind,” he returned. “That's the fone I once gave Gracie. The next time I call I will bring you up the one Jennie had.” + . THE STORY THE BABY TOLD THE STRANGE CAT, AND THE STRANGE STORY THE CAT TOLD THE BABY. comicbooks.com