Judge — June 6, 1891 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

1 HE day is fine, the sky serene, Still, all in all, I'm simply wretched ; For she, the girl I love, my queen ! By whom I am completely fetched, Sits on the front seat, fair, elate, Beside a donkey whom I hate. FROM THE ROADSIDE, Ww. ‘The walking, here and there, is rough, ‘And now and then the dust seems spiteful ; But she's beside me—that's enough To make a wilderness delightful. This long, sweet day is ours—our own— To spend ‘mid fields and trees, alone ! ve ‘The coach-parade rolls by. Bright shines ‘The harness gay, from bit to traces ; The horses smoothly pace—their iines Have fallen to them in pleasant places ; And to the riders who, askance, Scarce cast on us a passing glance. BLACK CONVICT recently forged a note for twenty thou- sand dollars which was paid, and par- doned himself by borrowing the name of the governor; but a little too much care brought the pardon paper into question and he still remains in pris- on, It may now be admitted that the black man has brains, but it will still be insisted that he employs them solely for malicious purposes. DISGRACE FOR FAILURE. THE LAW punishing men for fail- ing in an effort to commit suicide has certainly not reduced the number of suicides, while it has acted as a bribe to make men do their work of destruction effectively. The law is an “Do you thi THE COACH-PARADE. FROM THE COACH-TOP. n On all the ills that make life vext T muse, as dark they loom before me : The daily catalogue, perplexed, Of dinners, dances, teas, that bore me; The men I can't endure who haunt me; ‘The women who pursue and daunt me. ink, Cousin Fred, I'm very fond of dress?” am, If I could choose I'd gladly be That tall young fellow, shabby, splendid, Who from the roadside stares at me, His shadow with his swectheart’s blended, And envies me, perhaps. Heaven knows lenvy him! And so life goes. vi But are they happier than we Here from the roadside humbly staring? Their faces rather hint to me That they must find life somewhat wearing ; And so I smile, without a sigh, Watching the coach-parade roll by. vu, The glum young swell in fine array— Look, dear ! behind the girl in yellow— Mas all heart covets ; but, I say, You don't look over-gay, young fellow ! You would not change with me, and— no, Nor I with you. Come, sweet, let's go. MADRLINE 8, BRIDGES, THE MAN IN THE MIRROR. A LITTLE STORY in the Pittsburg Dispatch tells how a lady quar- reled with her reflection in a full- length mirror. She had seen mirrors of that kind, the Dispatch takes pains to explain, but she was absent-minded. She said to the reflection, “Now you step aside, you old dowdy !” and then she advanced in a threatening way and nearly put her foot through the mirror. It is bardly worth mentioning except as it resembles Mr. Cleveland in his two attitudes on the silver question, with the difference perhaps that his foot goes through -the glass and shatters the man, the mirror and the reflection beyond recovery. And be- affront to decency and common sense, + No; Tdon' Why? sides, women quarrel with their mir- and ought to be taken off the books. “Because I don’t think you wear enough of it.” rors every day. s | comicbooks.com | |