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

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

BEST THINGS FROM JUDGE. GILHOOLY’S FAUX PAS. ILHOOLY he was a Dublin mon, Who betthered his low condition, From hoisting of bricks to an alderman On the aqueduct commission. His hands grew soft, his head grew hard, His nose was strawberry tinted. He had t'ree changes of shirts a wake, And his fwhiskers and hair was scinted He had bric-a-brac t'ree times a day, tlake shtoyle in its saison, Wid ceramics cooked in ivery way, And wsthetics up to raison. His conversaziones and musicales Would knock the Vanderbilts crazy, And as for his banquets and cold regal They would busht a tithing pig aisy. Musha, if you seen the s'soiety, too, That gathered in constellations At Gilhooly’s home, on the Avenyoo, And the most av thim wor relations. His wife wor Honorah, his daughter Maud, His uncle was Livingston Casey, His son, Red Mick, was christened Claude With the divil a Dermott or Dasey. Who has not heard of his big swaree, Wid germans and country dances, And shampagenny wine all runniw as free As the Boyne that dimples and dances? And the besht av the quolity wurmed their heels And rushtled their silks and laces ; Gilhooly lukked on at their ructions and reels, While his diamond flashed full in their faces. SOUND ADVICE. “Doctor, I have caught a terrible cold in the head ; what shall I take?” The Doctor, aftera moment's thought, replies: “A handkerchief.” PHILOSOPHIC UNDER TRYING CIRCUM- STANCES, When Jones was at the theatre the other ning he sat down by mistake on his neighbor's hat and reduced it to a hopeless mass of silk and teboard. The owner was madder than half a dozen March hares. “Well,” calmly observed the culprit, “I was awkward and no mist But,” he added, with self-complacent pity, ‘‘when I think that it might have been mine it makes me fairly shudder.” ON THE PERILOUS VERGE. “What is that horrible noise in the ante- cried the editor, as he leaped up fran- y, thrusting his majority-devouring quill into the paste-pot. - “Sire,” replied the office-boy, making a low salaam, ‘tis but the contributor who has brought you a strong ‘ editorial’ article, whist- ling to keep his courage up.” But the divil a wurrud you'd hear him shpake, You'd t'ink him a son of King Brian ; long as he shtuck to a drink that was wake Not a subject but he was fly on. ut whin the shampagenny got in his head He would shpread his coat-tails for a shindy, Then Honorah would hubstle him aff to bed And lock ivery door and windy. There at his hop was the crame of the town, And Gilhooly full, more’s the pity, While the mayor and the judes poured shampagenny down Till he thought he owned half av the city. Then he lepped in the air, coat-tails all abroad, Gev a Donnybrook whoop in his glory, And says, * Oi kin tek any man in me hod And carry him till the fourth shtory !” Thin the leddies all scramed and swooned away, And the gintlemen thried to scatther; But Gilhooly thried wud a shtick to play, And some of their noddles to batther, Honorah rushed in whin she heard thim fall, And she heard Gilhooly gev warnin’, “We'll pit Erin's flag on the city hall And paint the town green in the mawrnin’.” That is why Githooly is not au fait, Nor embonpoint in his connection, His etiquette isn't quite recherche, He's too frappe in his complexion. Buta betther man never wint up two shticks, Nor into New York s'soicty, Though the shampagenny wine pit him up to thricks And occasioned Honorah's anzoicty. NOT UP IN RAILROAD MATTER MuLLIGAN—“ An’ what might thim things be with figgers on ‘cm FLAGMAN Bropity—" Shure, they do be mile stones,”* MuLLtcan—“ An’ how fur are they apart ?” A TENDER REMINISCENCE, “Times are so harrud, Missus Brophy, it's a pity ye don’t sell ther animal.” ; ««Indade an’ I wud that same, Missus Cazey, ownly ther face iv him remoinds me iv me poor dead husband, rest his sow!.” BRIC-A-BRAC. Postizwait—“ Did you notice whether the ses had much bric-a-brac in their new house 2” Mrs, Atteves—‘ They haven't very much—but wait a minute—I did sce a snow-shovel in their cellar-way.” M Ha MORE ZEAL THAN WISDOM. The lady of the house had just returned from a long railway journey. “Good heavens!” she called out to her maid-of-all- work ; “here I've gone and got a grain of dust in my left ¢} “Dear sakes o’ massey, ma’am 1” cried ‘the abigail in a great state of excitement, ‘‘I'llrun and get the feather duster, ma’am.” WILLING TO TRY IT. Two Irishmen walking along the Bowery stopped under a sign printed in Hebrew letters. “An’ wot's that, Moike ?” asked one. “Begorra, I dunno! but ef Oi had moi flute, dom me ef Oi wuldn’t troi to play it” comicbooks.com