Judge — 1889 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

BEST ‘THINGS THE KIND OF BIRD I AM. Oh, Tam a poor little English bird Who came across, as you've doubtless heard, On a labor contract by which in terms I agreed to devour the mea- sure worms At the special request of my Uncle Sam, * For that’s the kind of a bird Tam. But I soon found out there was better meat Thana lot of wriggling worms to cat, Now I don't do a thing'to earn my pay, But just the same I am here to stay. My public office is a public sham, Bat that's the kind of a bird Iam. ‘There wasn't room for us all, you know, So, of course, the Americans had to go. The people may pass their laws and sw And Yoote for their robins everywhere. For the public I never care a dam, And that’s the kind of a bird Lam. HOME REARKO, A NOTE OF ADMIRATION, “I don't know her name, Mercutio, but she’s a la-la,"” THE COMING AMERICAN. Fatner—‘ My son, I learn that you are behind in your studies. I fear you are wasting your oppor- tunities. Most of the men of this. country who have become great enjoyed few of the ad S you THE SEIDLITZ POWDER. possess. Do you realize that if you are earnest and diligent you may some day become president?” Sox—“ Yes sir; but”— “But what? Have you jon |” Sos—“ ¥ s, sir; but I have not ted the tin ie taken from my books, I have been practising until I have got the drop curve down fine enough to fool a fish- net; and I'd rather be the pitcher of a winning base-ball team than president of the United States with a privilege of two renewals.” SECOND HAND. Isaac—“ Abe, dit you hear dot Dinkelspiel, dot second-hand furniture man, has married Eselbaum's vidow 2” Vosn't you surbrised 2” She vos joost his line of goods.” HE MADE tT A SUCCESS. “Do you believe marriage is a failure, Miss Phyllis?” he asked, as he leaned over the back of her chair, watching her lily-white hand ply to and fro through the bright-colored wool. “Really, Mr. Dukes,” was the hesitating reply, “I have never had an adequate opportunity of testing—that is—I prefer not to an opinion until "— s Phyllis,” he kindly interrupted her, “you express my opinion exactly. When shall we enter upon the interesting experiment?” “Whenever you like, Mr. Dukes,” was the demure reply. SOCIETY NOTE, Mrs. Rooney was making a christening call on Mrs. Holleran the other day, and a weird thing happened. It was in this way. Mrs. Holleran’s son Jamesey, a likely lad of nine years and a broad mouth, had captured a stray kitten on the previous day, and when Mrs. Rooney came in she innocently dropped into a chair and on the embryo cat with a thud like a hodful of bricks gone wrong. “It’s heaven's own mornin’, Mrs. Holleran,” she “an’ Oi tought Oi'd be after lookin’ in on yez t’ find out phether yure man’s cough wor aisin’ off th’ lungs av—say, darlin’, phat kind av a cush’n have yez in th’ chair? Sure it do be movin’, so it do. Here ! here!” and as she reached around and pulled out what was left of the poor pussy she continued, ‘Oi'm a. long time i Har-r-r-lem, Mrs. Holleran, an’ Oi've seen shtrange t'ings, but phin it comes t’ makin’ yure nebburs drown yure cats by baitin’ chairs wid them, yea can ixchuse me from callin’ again,” and she stalked out. Mrs. Holleran was so mortified that she threw a flat-iron, and knocked a goat off the front fence. comicbooks.com