Judge — January 12, 1889 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

HER GOWND. ’ Cours E I know the crown o' silver thet they say the angels w'ar, An’ Pe heerd considible about the harps they play: But a crown don’t ‘pear fumiliae on my Sally's old ray har, ‘An’ I know a harp ud fuze her pussels more ‘an washin’ day. No, I never think o” Sally ex a pusson hevin’ wings, Er e one with long white fixin’s trailin’ fur below: her feet, Fer she never hed mo sortuh use fer any sech-tike things; Jest wut plain an’ common-folkay ex you would ‘wish to meet. Not the stuff thet saints are made of ; nothin’ curyus in her style; Hed no wish to soar beyant her fambly an’ the farm, Made the best light-bread in Breathitt, 'n’ hed the kind o° smile Thet thors a feller’s system out cn’ makes his heart feel warm. ‘Thet's why, erthough it’s strangely fer a ghos’ to dress in jeans, Faded co ith patehes yer an Wren I'm studyin’ on Sally, my natchel feelin’ leans. To see her in the gownd she uster war. on goods It’s hangin’ ‘ginst the chimley~thet old blue frock 0” hern ; An’ w'en I smoke of evenin’s The wind creeps in an’ stirs i An’ think she’s comin’ back agin, jest like she wuz afore. Then night crawls down an‘ kivers up a somethin’ salt an’ wet ‘Thet blinks acrost tny eyes and plays the very mischief thar. Terbaccer gits no purchase on my feelin’s wien I set ‘An’ watch the empty breeze strike through the gownd she uster war. The on'y thort thet does me good is, mebby ‘way up yan ‘Thar'll be a spechal kind o' place fer common folks like me, Thet’s got no turn fer music an’ ain't a singin’ man, An’ wouldn't feel at home with wings—that is, not pufeckly, Thar's heaps o' things thet stall my mind an’ make my th'oat git dry ; Hut ‘bout what-all ud make me glad, my notion’s mighty el'ar ; Ton'y ask a cabin, with some blue g An’ my Sally in the gownd she uster w'ar. KVA WILDER MC GLASSON. SENTENCES PASSED BY THE JUDGE. Marriage may not be a failure, but the question is. There is an obj stays for ples There is no court of appeals for the cause of a woman who has been adjudged guilty of an unrequited affection, t which is never found by seeking, and which never ing. ‘That is love. The function of many people in the world seems to be merely that of a fulcrum, by which others are hoisted into prominence. Morally, some persons are all angles, and not pleasant to come in contact with; others have so many curves that one is never sure of a A MIDNIGHT SOLILOQUY. Mr. HOLLERSON (straining hard )—" Dey’s one ob two things. Eider Mis- tah Wallypole’s tuckeys hez been bettah nourished den usyal, ‘r else dat onery Sam Flatterson is inside dl” coop en got ‘m by d’ laigs."” place to grasp firmly. mer is safest. The latter may be least disagreeable, but the for- Those who are disposed to make marriage a success have neither time nor inclination to discuss the question “Is marriage a failure ?” The only way to make life a success is to have an object. It is bet- ter. to be enthusiastic in a mistaken cause than apathetic in everything. The wild, fleet horse of the prairies is noosed and thrown by the movement of a man’s arm; the humming-bird is snared, and even love sometimes becomes tangled in a single hair. If the average married person had any idea of what marriage is ex pected or intended to accomplish there might be a chance of arriving at some conclusion as to its success or failure. When you have convinced the small boy that school is not an institu- tion for the express purpose of promoting fun, then you may consistently cherish a hope of persuading the materialist that life may have some legitimate object other than enjoyment. KATHRIN GKOSyEAN. OUTSIDE THE BATH-HOUSE GRATING. Say, Julie! dey ain't no flies on us fer gittin’ good ‘n warm, Juin (as the steam is turned off and the cold weather gets in its toorky— “Kin youse walk, Jamesey ?” Gam comicbooks.com