Judge — December 15, 1888 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

JUDGE SONG OF THE SHOEMAKER. LL day the old shoemaker bends o'er bis tast; He hammers and sews and hammersand sews, He is making the shoes that shall carry men fast : Where —nobody knows, ah! nobody knows. And he sings of his work as he pricks with his awl ‘The leather through which the waxed end goes; ‘And his words on the ears of the passers fall, ‘As he hammers and sews, as he ham- ‘mers and sews, “Oh, where will you carry your wearer?” he sings, Ashe hammers and sews and hammers and sews, “ Where the city’s pavement with footsteps rings, Or where water flows and the green grass grows? * Will you carry him where his sweetheart waits, By the garden gate where the lilac blows; Or down through the shadows of death’s dark gates? ‘Ah! nobody knows! nobody knows! “ Will you go with him where the wedding guest Hies, and the bride waits fair as a rose? Where, after the lovers are married and blessed, The toast is drunk and the bright wine flows ? ~ Or, perbaps you will carry him where red crime At night through the streets of the city goes, Dragging men down in their flush of their prime Where—nobody knows, nobody knows, ™ Not there—but, wherever his lot may be cast, Luck go with your wearer, as heels follow toes.”” Thus sings the old shoemaker over his last, ‘As he hammers and sews and hammers and sews, ALOERT ROLLIN: HAVEN, We would soon get rich if we were paid for all the useless things we do. Mr. Vought yo" Creen RE? Bettah be carful’ whadjer says, chile. wuz trifiin’. I “Oh, he’s tareble touchy! I jes’ called him a low-down, goodfer- nothin’ thief of a son-of-a-gambo coon g'rilla, en he stopped d" darnce.” . He might git mad ‘f he HARDLY AS IT SHOULD BE. Mr. BRENTLEY (in the heat of fassion)—"* There's not a single hour in the hen our home is happy Mrs. BRENTLE "Oh, yes, there is, my dear!” I'd like to know when it comes in?” It always comes in just after you hav: gone out.” (dvd he started the happy hour at once.) HIS LAST CHANCE. “It seems to me,” said a mother to a young girl who was about to be married, “that your future husband is a little too exacting; he wants this, that and the other; [ consider him a perfect nuisanc “Well, dear mamma, we can afford to indulge him for once. him have his way now—you know ‘twill be the last time.” Let THE SPIRIT’S QUESTION. Tam the shade of thy deceased husband,” said the ghost at midnight, “and I want to know whose picture that is that three weeks after my d hangs in the parlor. Who is the homely-looking politician ?” “Why,” gasped the widow, “that is a picture of you— your daughter has taken drawing lessons for two weeks and that is the result.”” The spirit sighed and faded. THE POOR POET. On his income as a poet He can’t live, he well must know it For to tell the truth, his verses Are much heavier than his purse is HARD PAN. R. LEMUEL MAYBERRY stood disconsolately on the corner, with his hands thrust forearm deep into his pockets. He was a picture of low-down despair, and as his friend C ington came by the latter could not pass him without a sy tpathetic query as to the cause of the evident misery. * My dear fellow, it grieves me to see you so lugubrious. Wirat is the trouble “1 don't mind telling you, old ma just finished buying my Ch was the choky reply: mas presents, and 1 1 Collington, mer- comes but once a y “Oh, cheer up! rily. **Chistr know.” * Asa literal fact, you are right,” ob- served the unhappy man; “but the fourth of July hits me still harder than the twenty fifth of December, and I from the last Independence day when this [| blow struck me.” * Your house didn’t burn down or any- thing of that kind, did it?” ‘0: but I'm in the fireworks trade, and I've got two hundred and seventy-two near relations.” Collington passed on, weeping in com- miseration. r, you S just recovering comicbooks.com