Judge — 1888 — page 72: what you’re looking at

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

CHESTNUTS FROM JUDGE. “ENGLISH AS SHE IS SPOKE.” There was a young woman of Worcester, Who never could think what indorester To blush and look shy When her lover was nigh, Asif his mere presence ccnforecster. A noodle who never can laugh When his friends give him innocent chaugh, Should be sent out to grass, ‘That all who may pass Can see he’s no more than a caugh with a queue, Whose relatives made a to-dueue H-cause of his hair, But he bade them beware For in future he meant to wear tueue. ‘There was a young man with a cheque, Ile made it by scooping the deque. When asked if he cared How the poor Irish fared, Ile promptly replied, ++ Not a speque.”” THE WORST KIND. The creature came in on a pair of flat-boats and other rig to match. He stared with a stare that con-,] veyed a sense of boredness and haughtiness—some- thing like that which the fisherman sces in the cycs of the departed shad. His spcech was ‘‘aw—er—er— aw.” Sympatuetic Otp Lapy—“Poor soul ; ishe a maniac?” Coxpuctor—“ Yes, the worst kind—an Anglomaniac.” NEEDED SYMPATHY. Box—‘ Poor Jones, how I. pity him !” Cox—* What‘for?” Box—“ Havent you heard about his domestic afflic- tion?” Box—‘‘No—wife or daughter?” Cox—Neither—servant with four children.” NICE MEDICINE, Son—‘ Father, what is it you take out of that bottle?” Fatuer—‘‘It's medicine, my son.” Son—" You don’t make a face over it when you take it, do you?” Fataer—‘‘No, but your mother does it for me.” ON TIME. EPITAPHS. On a Pawnbroker, From the pledges of life now relieved Here reposes the friend of the schemer; He was not orthodox—he believed That cash was the only redeemer. On a Whistling Girl. Here lies a maid who could ne'er regret That her tongue was her only missile; She could whistle all day like a man, and yet She never wet her whistle, On a Doctor. He who gave the quictus to so many men Is now laid away «n the shelf; He might have lived on until three score and ten, Had he never prescribed for himself, On an Unhappy Lover. As his heart had not known a pain Till the unlucky moment he met her, He might have Leen happy again, Had he lived on and learned to forget her. On a Theatrical Manager. Here lies a man who put ta the blush ‘The whims of his fanciful spouse; For he never thought that he was flush, Unless he drew a full house. J.J. O'Coxseu. PARLIAMENTARY PRACTICE. “I think you ought to be a Congressman,” snarled Mrs, Shufflebottom, the other evening, as she prepared to make a clearing to reccive the lamp. “Why so?” inquired Shufflebottom. “Because everything you don't know what to do with you lay on the table.” RM. AT THE SEA-SHORE. Atcerxon—‘‘Promise me onc thing, dcarest, before I leave for the city.” Evozmta—‘‘ Anything, Algernon; anything.” Atczrnon—‘‘Now that we are engaged you will recognize me when you call at my counter in the store, won't you?” Traup—‘‘I say, boss! what time is it b your watch?” Evorznta—‘‘ Anything but that, Algernon; any it Srranczr—“ About'time to look out for thing, but that.” MILLER’S HOTEL, °* “Sennen ke comicbooks.com