Judge — July 6, 1889 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

MI Y\o VOU remember, my oven sweetheart “Tne deep, bright midsummer weather, When, lonely and 9, ‘Through blossoming felds together ; While the lark And the dream ‘Was abroad in sun and shadow ? Do,you remember the waysides far, ‘The dew on the grase-blades gleaming, ‘And the two young hearts, with never a care in the world of their happy dreaming? On, the deep embrace of the yearning es ‘and the hands ahy. timid meet “The ready smile and the sled sigh ‘And the hearts’ wild, unbeard be EXCEEDED HER EXPECTATIONS. AFTER the honeymoon. “Alfred. “ What is it, dearest ?” “You'll take me to the sea-side this sum- mer, won't you?” “Now, you know, darling, that I can't get away; but if you don’t mind going by your- sel “Oh, Alfred, how nice you are! That was ever so much better than I could have hoped.” BEGGING AS A FINE ART. FIFTH AVENUE millionaire recently received a begging letter couched in these terms: “Your well-known generosity emboldens me to appeal to you to take pity on a poor widower, the death of whose wife has robbed him of his only means of support.” SOCIAL ENTERTAINMENTS. Boston girl—“Are the people in Kansas city very fond of social amusements, Miss Cattleboy ?” Kansas city girl —" Oh, yes, indeed. Just before I left home we had one of the most recherche barbecues ever held in the west.” loving, we walked apart ‘high o'er the rustling wheat ‘And the swallows skimmed the meadow, breath of the clover sweet “ There’ liant, shiny, and strong effect to a cabinet picture.” DSUMMER. Pow While the hay ‘Where the children How strangely the dream comes back to-day ! ‘The scythes of the reapers swinging, brown stubble, the piled-up hay, ‘And the sound of the children's singing. , ere the summer wane And the long fair days be over, Will you come to the old crossroads again, With a smile for your waiting ‘The smooth, But, love, someti T would traverse the wide wor T would brave all the fates. To walk once more with you, Through the deep, sweet inidsummer weather. AN ARTISTIC Pincrer. (previc nothing like plenty AT ROCKY POINT. surely join us on the beach, Miss Cabot?” Miss Cauor (Boston) —"* On the beach, yes. Mr. Berckman—" You surprise me.” Miss Canor—" There! that's just what mamma the surf, and now I've g-gone and d-done it anyway,” In Mr. Beeckman (New York)—'' The water is delightful to-day. You'll the surf, no,” said I'd do if I went into JUDGE ‘ou remember the old cross-roads ‘here I watched for fou and waited, 207 TOOK IT AS A PERSONAL REMARK. SHE HAD a very bad cold, but Adolphus had asked her to go to the theatre and she went. Ata certain point in the perform- ance one of the actors looked over the side of the stage-vessel and shouted, “There she went by ia swaying Toads pode, elated? lover? sea and land, toxether, hand in hand, said to Adolphus, “I'm I didn’t come here to be in- going home. sulted.” sem A WIDE PARTING. 64D) YOU think you could train this beard of mine to be parted in the middle? asked Callow, entering the barber-shop. returned the artist," by shav- ing all but a small patch on either cheek.” TO TALK TO A FINISH. Bagley —" Ransom is certainly one of the most boastful men I ever met.” Bailey —" Perhaps Ransom intends to be- come a pugil HIS INDEPENDENCE DAY. Toward his younger ‘Who crouched in her glanced, frightened pain, “ Huh! who's afraid ?” he boldly cried ; Then lightly scratched a match And touched it to those fire-crackers, ‘The biggest of his batch. A puff, a fizz, a jolly bang, "A shout: Hi! Thats the way.” A litle inventory, and— His fingers, where were they ? AKISTINE, ANDERSON FAILURE, his photograph taken) — of pomade to give a bril- EPITAPH. Reader, don't do as I. ‘Advice 1" For the party wl Isa giel from St. OSSIAN’S ADDRESS TO SUMMER. ] F a touch of Sum- mer, O Maria, rad ant daughter of Mary Ann! Leave me here alone, while I make a But the ointment had sugar in it, and the completed photograph showed that the studio flies had found it out. pocm out of the sough- ing of the night-wind, the moon's pale disc, and other magazine and time-honored metaphors, Leave me, for it’s hot—hot as the rhetoric of Talmage, hot as a tin roof at noon-time! © thou too visible spirit of Summer! couldst thou not come to a man who owneth no country-house, nor yet a steam-yacht, with less sting in thy tail and less fire in thy bosom? Without mosquitoes, without drug- store soda, without street lemonade, without the peripatetic band, and without Sunday newspapers? But never mind, O Summer! many are the ways in which a poor man may enjoy himself. Eh, Maria, blushing daughter of Mary Ann? Have we not caught flies together on the heights of Fort Lee? Have we not dug for clams on the shining sands, while the raging billows surged outward from the rugged shores of Coney? Eh? Ah, fair is thy face, sweet is thy presence, O Summer! Thou com- eth as regularly as the doctor's bills. Friends may change, but ice-cream and colic never! We shall miss thee when the bloom gets off the rye and the snow creeps down the spine. Maria, trembling daughter of Mary Ann, let us to the garden-gate and weep. NATHAN af. LEVY. comicbooks.com