Judge — 1891 — page 42: what you’re looking at

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

EXASPERATION. In timid love I wooed with zeal and fire Her family ; sought favor with her sire By gifts of books galore and walking sticks And silver match-safes ; till I did perspire Discussed the daily news and politics. In trembling love I sent her mother flowers At vast expense ; exerted all my powers ; Carried her packages and held her shaw! And talked about dyspepsia. Hours on hours Played checkers with her brother, young and small And wearisome. Walked with her uncle ; took Her aunt to drive ; made presents to the cook, The gardener.’ And ‘neath the weak’ning strain Knew, with the shrinkage of my pocket-book, A loss of flesh and reeling of the brain. What mingling, then, of hap piness and ire, Of bliss and rage, when my throbbing desire I panted forth—and she with downcast smile Murmured, with tender color mounting higher, “Yes, dearest, yes!" I've liked you ail the while.” AMA A, OFF. *Mufstaash, mutton-chops, an’ de English split-chin, sah.” “Ah, yes! Do you ever find the whole three combined on one face?” “Nevah bui once, sah, A young man ‘ployed me to block out de free styles fo’ ‘im, so he kun hab 'em shabe off one by one, sah, to see w'ich o' dem styles he look de bes’ in. W'en dey was all grow'd, he’s afeared to hab any one ob 'em shabe off, sah, ‘cause mebbe dat be de one w’at suit his ‘plexion bes’. Dat young man struggle wiv dem w'iskahs fo’ free mont’s, sah’ an’ den he o'der ‘em all shabe off. Den he say: “*Raise me a mufstaash !' “T riz him a mufstaash, sah, an’ he hab his picture tooken, Den he want nis mufstaash shabe off an’ English split-chin riz. W’'en dat was riz, he go wiv dat an’ hab his picture tooken. Den off come de English split-chin, an’ we grow him de mutton-chop. W'en he gits a picture ob dat, he put de free pictures in a row an’ look at ‘em a minute. Den he frow ‘em on de flo’ an’ flop hisse’f in dis cheer, sah, an’ hollah out : “*T looks like de debble in ‘em all, I does ! he says. ““T'shabe ‘em off, sah, an’ he nevah wo’ no w'iskahs’ tall, sah, after dat.” “So?” said the tall man, “Yis, sah.” “And hair-tonic ?" “Oh, yis, sah!" “And the best pomade ?” Shabe ‘em off!" “ You use bay rum, of course ?” A DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. t) I've got the ladle, and the spoons, and the nut-pickers, and the punch-bowl, and—by the way, Thomas, we need a wine-cooler. Mrs. Minnie Arkens—"* Now let me see. MR. ARkKe: (02 salesman)—* Will you oblige me with the time please ?” SALESMAN “It is just three, sir.” THE TALL MAN AND THE BARBER. “Ts this the barber-shop?" asked a neatly dressed, tall man, carrying a satchel, as he entered the tonso- rial artist's studio. “Yis, sah; walk in, sah!" said the artist. “Can I get shaved here?” “Yis, sah; yo’ nex’, sah!" “Hair cut?” “Sart’nly, sah!” “Shampoo ?” “Oh, yis, sah!" The man walked in, placed his satchel on the floor and sat down. “ Barbers don't pull teeth to any great extent nowadays, do they?” said he. “Oh, no, sah.” “But they used to, you know. They used to pull teeth, cup, leech, cut off legs and do other things that hurt almost as much as their razors do now. What are the pre- vailing styles of whiskers now?” BETTING ON A SURE THING. Bissee—‘‘(Hic!) I wonder who left that umbrella there? I'll bet sum blamed fool of a drunkard ain't fur from it.” MR. ARKENS (throwing back his coat)—"* Thank you.” “ Sart’nly, sah.” And—but of course you have that on your shelves—Capulini’s scalpitarium ?” No, sah. We hain't fell to usin’ dat yit, sah.” “What?” exclaimed the tall man, grabbing his valise, opening it, and taking out a square black bottle with a gold label. “Don't use the greatest tonsorific of the age? Then let me”"—— “Yo's de nex’, sah!" said the barber. The tall man looked up at the clock. “Jiminetty!” he exclaimed. “ Half-past six! I'll bet nine shi ling I’m too late to catch Jobson The tall man grabbed his valise and rushed out. The barber went to the door and looked after him. “I spec’ mebby yo’ is too late to ketch Jobson!” said he. “But if yo’ jes’ come roun’ dis way ag’in, yo’ won't be too late to ketch dis hyuh boot, yo’ write trash yo’ !” KD. Morr, comicbooks.com