Judge — 1891 — page 32: what you’re looking at

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

JUDGE'S PERIL. We talk of deepest things, for he is highly intel- lectual ; We skim o'er subtlest themes with touches careless but effectual ; We loosen knots the ktvitiest ; discuss with mien superior The problems of the future and of times the most anterior. We canvass late inventions in mechanical appli- ances; News theological and recent doings in the sciences; Phases in foreign politics. With a demeanor stoical I chase him up where'er he leads, intrepid and heroical. My eyes, though, have a stony stare, my spinal cord stands rigidly, My pulse beats high, my head is hot the while my blood flows frigidly, Ah, me! but he will yet find out, to scorn me full surprisedly, <i How far beyond my depth I floun- der, wildly, agonizedly! EMMA A, OFFER, STRAUSS SHOWS ENTERPRISE. He had painted with a marking-brush on an empty flour-sack, “We sells no English syndi- cate-brewery beer.” He had a small green flag above the door, and the flour-sack stretched across the window. He had also put boiled jotatoes among the free lunch, and when Johnny Connelly tucked his last two papers under the bar and sat down to rest, he smiled broadly, and said: “Chonny, vot you dink apoud dot new debar- ture?” “Wot is it, old appleplexy?” asked Johnny, as he wiped his hot face. “Dot vos der Irish drade to catch, ain'd id? Hear me dis song, Chonny. ‘Dot harp dot troo der terror’s halls Der soul off moosic shed She now hungs mute ubon der valls, Dot moosic all gone deadt." “Unt dere vos a goot many Irish lif dis sdreed along, unt you sbrinkle dis English idea deir coat-tails on unt you git ’em, efery von Ufyou dook me for a clam, you got to git in der mornin’ up, Chonny.” AN EXPLANATION. StmpLey—* What—aw—do they wing the bell for?” Sorrey—"'I ain't pawsitive, me deah fel.; but I think it's to tell the captains on the boats that there is a fog on the wiver.” ANNUAL. A look of profound disgust shone through the elevated-rail- road cinders on Johnny's face as he said: “When you git de Irish saloon-trade, Strauss, you'll know you've had it by de marks, like small-pox. Ya-a, Dutchy; all you want is a black eye and a short pipe stuck in de waistband of yer hat to make yer a full-blooded Dublin man. By George! de Harlem goats would eat you, Strauss, if you laid down to sleep above One-hundred-and-thirtieth street;” and he wearily took up his remaining papers and went out yelling, “Here you are! two more big English syndicates formed, and Bismarck paralyzed in his t’roat so he can't stop talkin’! Evenin’ edition, fi’ cents!" As T. WORDEN, THE DUTCHMAN'S TURN-OVER IN WALL STREET. I keeps a sausage store in Harlem. De odder day Sharley Rosenkeirfer said to me, “ Shaky Hauseman, vy don’t you make a turnover in Vall street? Maype you got pig moneys by dot Meester Dinglebender, vot advertise in dot paper.” So putty quick I vent down by dee street to Meester Dingle- bender, der Cherman banker, und said, “ Meester Dinglebender, I haf sav two tree hoondred dollar; I vants to make some money. DURING THE PROCESSION. Lirtte OocLeymurki—'* Mamma!" M MBUGAGI—"* What is it, dear?” Littte OocLeyMuRKI—" Please, may I have the wish-bone?” “All right, Mr. Hauseman. I vill puy some stuck for you. Coom in do-morrow.” Ven I coom in, I said, “ Vat stuck you got, Meester Dingle- bender?” “You see und I see,” he said. “Put I dun’t see,” I said. “Vell, you will see do-morrow,” he cried. Vell. Do-morrow, dot is dot next day, I vent down by Meester Dinglebender und said: “Mr, Dinglebender, how vas dot furnover getting along?” He said, “Meester Hauseman, I am zorry to say you are “dumped.” “Vot you mean by dot? Is de éurnover no good?” “Dere vas terrible panic,” said Meester Dinglebender. “ Stucks ‘took adrop.’"" Chay Gould vas bust, und vantsa bo- sition as telegraph oberator, und Wanderbilt vants to borrow money on de vatch his fadder gave him. Ven dey found vat a panic dere vas, dey sent for Meester Levy to coom und blay de cornet and stop dot pa-ic. Put it vas no use. I dell you, Meester Hauseman, gank Gott you vas not ruined. Coom again mit two hundred dollur, und ve vill get dot all pack, un vive, seex hoondred pesides.” Den I said: “ Meester Dinglebender, of Chay Gould und Wan- derbilt vas bust, Shaky Hauseman vas go back tu dot leegitimit peesness.” Und it vas dun, for dot first dime, I vas opliged to make a turnover of dot dog-meat into dose sausages. ANXIOUS TO KNOW. Doctor—‘ These pills, Mr. Croaker, will either kill or cure.” Patient—“ Say, doc., which will they do first?" comicbooks.com