Judge — May 31, 1890 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

JUDGE PUBLISHED ONCE A WEEK. W. J. Aww Editor Brewiano Gian. I. M. Gnecony. TERMS TO SUBSCRIBERS. UNITED STATES AND CANADA, IN ADVANCE, One copy, one year, or 52 numbers - ‘One copy, six months, or 26 numbers - ‘One copy: for 13 weeks = == Including the Cuxistwas Juoce. FOREIGN SUBSCRIPTIONS—To all for ign countries in the postal union, @ year. THE JUDGE PUBLISHING COMPANY (JupcE BuiLprnc), Cor. Fifth Ave, and 16th St, New York. JOHN G. CARLISLE has been elected to private life. THERE IS every prospect that the English and the Germans propose f ‘0 carry the war into Africa. BERNHARDT got a splinter in her knee, and naturally her sur- geons regard it as a wooden leg. speaks of “a twin diamond,” meaning apparently AN EXcHANG nd nothing to two in one carry. oe © RE reminded by the ar- rival of a foreign orchestra that Strauss shows which way. the wind blow ME. CLEVELAND never bites a beet or mashes a potato with- out shedding copious tears for the poor farmer, gg THE FAULT-FINDER has for his excuse the exasperating fact that everybody finds fault because indulges in that privilege. GEAPSTONE says free trad has lost ground, Just so. On this Memorial day let us speak of it tenderly as the lost cause. ‘T IS CERTAIN that Stanley will never discover Emin again; and on the other hand Emin will not discover Stanley until he wants to kill im, gee MB: FASSETT, you commenced this business. Now if you : stop it before it is completed you will have unearthed a boomerang. ata king, cain’t he? THE WOMEN office-holders of Egerton, Kansas, resigned because the men of the town laughed at them, §. B. Anthony has been laughed at all her life, and she's a great, big, splendid woman. AS LEMAN of New Jersey came to town to see his son, who was in the “John used to be a good boy,” he said, wip- ing his eyes, “but he seems to have been conTammanyated.” ‘ombs. BEN BUTLER finds that the Chicago anarchists were illegally con- vieted and that the living ones must be got out of prison. Still, it is a fact, trifling though it may be, that the men they murdered re- main dead, RICHARD VAUX is a good hs nearly eighty years, and he is a Democrat in fact ne; but why didn’t the Demoerats of Mr. Randall's district resurrect the memory of James Buchanan and run that? BRIBING A STATE city of the Louisiana lottery company ts unparalleled, Nothing and debauchery of pub- THe in the world’s recent record of the bribery lic men and public interests equals it. It is the quintessence of infamy. ‘The poor wretch who steals a loaf goes to jail; a sheriff guilty of de- ceit in a divorce suit is fined and imprisoned; common-councilmen who accept bribes are indicted, some of them tried, some of them found guilty; the legislator whose vote is for sale is relegated to private life and stamped with the infamy he deserves. Justice seems to fail only in reaching the tempters. It is always the tempted who suffer. Are they the chief sin- ners? The Louisiana lottery company, the breath of whose wretched life was breathed into it by the debauched legislature of a disorganized com- monwealth, offers publicly colossal bribes to Louisiana and to other states for an extension of its franchise in the former and the creation of a new license to gamble in the latter. The public mind revolts at the thought of putting up a state's morality for sale at the auction-block. Everywhere, to the lasting credit of the American states and of the American people, there is a public uprising against accepting the bribe of the greatest, the richest, and the most soul-destroying gambling corporation on the Ameri- can continent. What shall be done with this monstrosity, “born of deceit, nurtured by evasion, and enshrined in mystery"? Just Let the voice of the preacher be heard in every pulpit, of the lecturer on every platform, of the press in every city and village against the iniquity and the crime of this Louisiana lottery business. Let us have state legislation supplemented by federal legislation that shall crush this viper of sin whose fang has already been felt by countless thousands, and whose sting is death! THE INVISIBLE CLUB. BROTHER FRANCIS of the Troy Times, able and digni- ficd as he is, is not sufficiently dip- lomatic to see why in a recent car- toon in the JYOGE he is apparently made to train in the company of mugwumps and free-traders. Well, at first it puzzled us too; but the artist. explains that he was put in that crowd as a persuader, to keep the foolish fellows out of mischief. If Brother Francis will look at the picture again he will find that his right hand is not apparent to the eye; but it is certainly conspicu- ous to the imagination, and grasps a club large enough to knock out all of his truly temporary compan- ions. See, Brother Francis? WE MOURN THE CLASS ITS LOSS. in journalism of Cornell university has been discontinued, It was created at the suggestion of Mr. Fitch of the Rochester Democrat, who has left that paper to accept a salary as col- lector of internal revenue at a salary of about three thousand dollars a year. No journalist has suggested such a class, and it is a natural result that it is discontinued in behalf of the less comprehensive but more elegant “class in rhetoric,” which, while “delicate and unique,” as. the late Mr. Conkling would remark, taxes the imitative powers without fatiguing the intellect of the undeveloped or the too ripened collegiate mind. A PERTINENT REMARK. Mr. Prouproot—'* Who's yo' a starin’ at, Gabe Robles?” f (svhose suspicions have been aroused) —"'1 s'pose a cat kin look THE BOYS ARE MARCHING, ONCE A YEAR they come back to us, those soldiers who died nearly thirty years ago. The boys are marching still, though their foot- steps are as noiseless as the morning dew, and of the glory of their col- umns there is nothing for the eye but dust and a few faded and ragged banners, Sometimes in the hush of night the sleeper awakes for a mo- ment from a dream of old times to hear again a little of the music of those days, though the players are dust and the brass has been beaten into other shapes. It is a bit of sentiment, like a color, or a la or a tear, or two or three words that took great meaning from the circumstances that created them, So these old soldiers resurrect themselves for a day, and the blue of their coats and the gray smoke of their guns color every hill and valley—the march without the foot-fall, the music without the bands, the meeting of contending forces without the moan of pain or the cry of anger. Let them come once a year for centuries, and “let us have peace.” comicbooks.com