Judge — October 8, 1892 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

THE JUDGE OLD VIOLINIST. “And lo, thou art unto them as a very lovely song of one that hath a pleasant voice and can play well on an instrument.""—Ezextnt, xxx! WHEN the old man times the swing of his bow ‘To the flow of his favorite tune, And he hears the voice of the long ago In the ripples of sweet ‘* Bonnie Loon,” And his pale cheeks flush to a rosier glow Like the clouds of a fall afternoon, There's a plaintive wail to the rhythmic flow Of the dear old songs that our mothers know, Like the loving croon when the sun is low ‘Of a dove in the month of June. When his fingers thrum the forgotten strings 4. For the tunes his grandfather played, Till the poor old tormented violin sings The strains of 't The White Cockade,”” And the songs that float on the bluebird’s wings In his deaf ears warble and fade, There's a thrill in the graybeard’s touch that brings The clasp of the waist in the waltz that flings ‘The blood to his heart, like the kiss that clings To the lips of an amorous maid, When he tips the bridge to his listening ear When his hale old frame swings to and fro For the chords that swing therton; And feels a kiss on his thin. white hair For his" Jo John Anderson,” And the frost’ melts out of the flosses there ‘The winters of life have spun, Like the trunk of a swaying pine, And the friends of his boyhood come and go To the notes of his ‘*Auld Lang Syne,” And his comrades’ call is a weak hallo That faints to a farewell sign, There's a tender dream in the sweet old There's. a touch on the strings as soft assnow air Of a rush of lips when cheeks were fai Like-a dash of rain when fields are bare And parched in the autumn sun, A THING HE NEVER DOES. ‘6 P)R. DEPEW has. a strong nasal twang to his. voice, hasn't he?” “Yes; he talks. through his nose a great deal.” “Well, that’s better than talk- ing through his hat.” AMENABLE, In the soughing pines where the shadows ir, grow When to dying ears the night winds blow ‘The moan of the shivering kine. EDWIN §. HOPKINS. Not to care for the will of the father Is the way with wild children, ‘tis said; = And yet there’s one time they would rather Come under his willwhen he's dead. THE POWER of woman must not. be underestimated. But for their wives Lorne and Batten- berg would have been forgotten, and one recalls the late Mr. Wettin mostly to inquire who he was. PRECAUTION. “* Vat you do, Tkie?” Der man shtoldt der coat und I'm goin’ ter shoot him.” Jaxiz—"' Mein gracious! Shoot him in der leg; don‘d shpoil der coat.” nade THAT SAME OLD COON. “I jes’ gwine set heah an’ waten till yo" boun’ cum down,” NOTHING GOOD. 66] TELL you ‘To-morrow, or Alice Mortimer’s Revenge’ is a good book, though I say it who shouldn't.” “Why shouldn't you say it is good?. You didn’t write it.” “I know it, my boy; but you forget I am a professional crit ENOUGH IS SUFFICIENT. A NHILE ago his heart was light, > Bat now he finds it heavy. He used to love one little sprite, Bat now he loves a bevy. AGREED ON THAT POINT. SOWELL, the jig’s up,” obsery- ed Miss Bleecker of New York. “Yes,” replied Miss Emerson ot Boston; “the most volatile va- riety of terpsichorean exercise is elevated.” “Hi! Whad dat done drap?” comicbooks.com