Judge — December 20, 1890 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

JUDGE THE GREAT COLUMBIAN POEM. 'HE Beethoven club was in session in the back room at Strauss’s. Bimby Hofensack, the veteran of the late war, was acting chairman, and had taken off his wooden leg to use as a gavel to call the house to order. Dif- fenbacker, the new member, had just recited a poem in honor of Von Moitke, and the applause was dying away when a stealthy step was heard in the saloon in front, and as Strauss entered the room a sad-eyed individual was stand- ing suspiciously near the lunch-count- er. His apparel and demeanor bore evidences of the late panic in ‘Wall street, the ballot reform law, the Democratic inundation and the early setting in of winter. Like a sponge he seemed to have soaked up all the misfortunes of a decade, Strauss with a practiced eye sized him up, gazed apprehensively at the pickled pigs’ feet near the tramp's el- bow, and then set the front door open. “Bounce, is it?” asked the sad-eyed one. “Pounce it is," said Strauss. “Pause! I have seen better days,” he sighed. “Tbaed you you seen bedder days to work a lunch-counter, Dis vos a cold day for dot;” and Strauss smiled, Nay. “Pardon me; but this social gathering in yonder room, what is it?" St “ Der Beethoven club—musical, skyentific unt liderary.” APPROPRIATE LARGESS. ‘THe WEAD-WaITER —"** gave me a c’'nfed'rate bill.” Covonet Grace (from Richmond)—'* That's all right. If you and the landlord of this house aren’t confederates I'll swallow my war record.” “Pardon any little historical inaccuracy like that, gents; now that I recall the fact, it was a cabbage he picked up off Hispaniola. Blame not the bard. The hero of eternal fame, Who gave a continent his name. True to the faith that in him burned His soul in death still westward turned ; ‘Though prison bars and chains lis dole, ‘They could not bind his mighty soul. Are we the people of thy thought? Is this the dream thy vision caught As thy'great heart dissolved in tears, When prophetlike thou scanned the years? Lo, sixty millions greet thy view! Though Grant says that the count ain't true "—— (Continued THE LIVERPOOL TWINS, Gerorcir— Tt isn't faih to draw when I do, Awthur, You must b-blow, don't you know “Aha! have [ at last struck on my feet? Literary! Why, man, I was born in a book-store, wrapped in a newspaper and learned my letters off cold type. Liter- you know about the Chicago exposition, Columbus—fourth centennial in Dot makes no decfrance. Vot ish it? Shpit her out.” “I will read my great poem on Columbus before the Beethoven club. Nothin’ angular about me. I'am a little hoarse from sitting in a draft on a Hudson river tow, but introduce me and give me a pitcher of water and a glass on a stand. I have the poem in my pocket.” “Gif him a glasspier unt sharge it to me unt pring him in,” cried the chairman. hanks; nothing like pigs’ feet for the voice. Gladstone carries one in his pocket, Parnell used a dozen after his balcony scene. Understand, gents, the committee of the world’s fair has three American poets at work on an ode. I am the only one who has completed his work. It can be sung, recited or played on any instrument or whistled.” “‘Id’s bedder dot you go aheadt pefore you git hoarse talkin’,” said the chair- stically. I generally Have two or three chords struck on the piano before I commence, but never mind. Columbia, freedom's chosen land, When fugitive from Britain's strand, Asylum" — “Vot in plazes you dot asylum vork into dot poem for,"" asked Straus: rigbd,” said the chairman ; “dot vos for de cranks, aind uggestion is startling, but perhaps you are right,” said the poet.“ But, to resume, as the busted bank remarked : Asylum of ihe weak, oppressed Woo find in thee a home and rest, Why dost thou turn thine eagle eye Back through the ages to descry CHARITABLE. Ttalia’s noble son who first “ 5 ” ., e 5 tae Parag iwapcad he coug TRAMTZ"T say, ma‘am, can't ye gimme a bite o' something “Blayed out, blayed out,” said Dittenhofer. “Columpus vos a Dutchman, Mas tbancace=lWeyt veut poor (ellow li govanlitakelone vos his beeples acquainted mit in Schleswig.” Of those icicles off the fence,” comicbooks.com