Judge — November 9, 1889 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

WHILE WAITING FOR THE GROOM. Beatrice —“ How long has your aunt been engaged to be married, Marion ?” Marion—"About fourteen years, 1 think.” Beatrice — Oh, it’s longer than that. Why, I heard her say yesterday that she had worn out two engagement rings already.” WELL INTERRED. READ in a country church-yard : “ Here Lies Amelia Stubbs, Who died at the age of 65. She Lies Buried in Flannel and the Affection of a Large Circle of Relatives.” SING A SONG OF SEASONS. ‘HIS is the time to try the souls And pocket-books of men, ‘The money for the summer’ Ts overdue; and when He's scraped enough to pay the bill, His wife says, with a pout, “I wish you'd start the furnace, John,” THE CAMERA ON THE YELLOWSTONE. ‘And all the coal is out. Mastin Aestooce. Bunsey —"* How do you suppose I can take you people when you're hopping around like that?” THE AFFAIR OF THE HEART BETWEEN THE KING OF THE TURNPIKE HUTTEKCUPS AND THE QUEEN OF THE WAYSIDE ROSES, AS TOLD BY THE KNAVE OF THE FENCE THISTLES. ATRIMONY isn't what it's thought to be by a long shot, young man, Let me give you an instance : It was only some seven months ago, you see; yet, so well as I can remember, I've forgotten a good bit of it. But never in this bright world was there such a fairy as the queen of the roses, who used to sit across the road there all day long sipping the honey of her own sweet lips. The spell of her eyes was as the glitter of a star, and she was so sweet, taken in a lump, that a southerly breeze flirted with her for a month; for she could flirt with a well-dressed breeze far better than can an Italian count with an Amer- ican bank account. The truth about the whole matter was that she was in love with Golden Rod over the way, who had never been divorced ‘or enjoyed any of the advantages of a higher civilization, In fact a thorough-bred cad was Golden Rod; and had he been a human being he would have said “God bless the queen of England” every morning before breakfast, and crossed from Brooklyn regularly each sum- mer so that he might’ drawl out, “Oh, I've just run over for a few days, you know; the impression that he was English. Now Rosie's father was anything but favorable to Golden Rod, and his face grew as long as one of Henry James's novels when his name was mentioned. He knew the king of the buttercups—Butty we called him—was simply daft over Rosie; but he also knew AN INFANTILE CONCLUSION. _ that Rosie had a will that was Tommy—" Will Mr, Withers be my fonger than the pen of Will step-father when you are married, mamma?’ Nye, which is saying a great Mrs, Bote —"' Yes, dear.” deal indeed. Many a_ ni Bye will you be his little when the fire-flies were lighting Mrs. BouEN —"* Certainly.” up the way for the stumbling , TOMMY —"* What a flighty old time it beetles toddling home from the wall Beso ete clubs, the old man was watch- ™ ing that Rosie might not elope. He lost flesh, He became surly and almost went to seed oyer it. He wouldn't talk business; maybe because he was doing business under his wife’s name, And Rosie, too, pouted in her corner and became almost child- ish, putting trains on her night-gowns, my sis and that sort of thing. It was evident to every one that this state of things could not continue forever, like a political discussion. The most mysterious part of it was that Rosie shunned: Butty as a young man shuns a prayer-meeting. He was handsome, wealthy and brave. Wh: ‘as so brave that had he been a man he would have worn a high hat and a flannel shirt on upper Broadway. But it mattered nothing to Rosie id no, and Butty winced and scowled at Golden Rod and thought the wages of sin is not what it’s cracked up to be. But the end was near—so near one could almost hear its foot-falls. Rosie was wilting. 7#at was as evident as the coming of autumn and seal- skins. Knowing this, I wasn’t a bit surprised when some one told me they had been married and were living up by the fence near the Katydid mansion. But as I remarked before the end was near, sure enough they Aad been mar- ried. But bless my soul! even Butty couldn't stand it, brave as he was. She led him such a life that one day they missed him. And when they found what was left of him they concluded he preferred death by snow-storm to married existence. Which all goes to prove, young man, that matrimony isn’t what it’s thought to be by a long shot ; and even if only the brave deserve the fair, blessed few survive the winnin: thereby conveying HIS FIRST RACE. Buison—* Hold on, Dick! Where now?” Gurrterine Dick (from way up in the mountains) —“' I've heard 'm of the prize. say they was five to one’on a feller named Proctor Knott, out here some- be wire sreiey, where, an’ I'm goin’ t’ see fair play if I hev t’ shoot." comicbooks.com