Judge — December 16, 1893 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

JUDGE TAKING NO CHANCES. - ¢] NOTICE that you've gota new man to take % up the collection in your church.” “Yes; the times are ticklish now. He gives bonds in five thousand dol- lars.” AN EASY PLACE. Mistress —" So 1 suppose you will be leaving us, cook, although we shall be sorry to lose you.” A MATERNAL REBUKE Cout—* Did you ever have hay-fever, ma?” ayy Ma—"' Neigh, my son; but if you get off another one like that Cook—"Vis, you'll have an attack of mal-de-mare.” mum. Me sisther has an iligant place fur me; only two in the family, an’ two shtep-dathers an’ a shmall gurril they're bringin’ up to raise, an’ the entoire family away in Yarrup six mont’s in th’ summer.” “HOW THESE MEN LOVE EACH OTHER!” Scribbley —"Clubb says he shot five hundred glass balls in forty minutes the other day.” Dritbley —" Didn't be shoot ‘em with a long bow?” THE DARKEST HOUR IS JUST BEFORE THE DAWN. Jack PLUNGER—"' I'm going to hock the wash-stand, Bob.” Bow Lusuer (Jack's pal)— “Deuce take it, old chappie ! that's the lawst bit of virtu we have in the room, Jack PLuNcER—" Cawn't help it, Bob. I'm going to propose to the widow Van Kocks to-night and must pave the way with a bunch of violets.” “PEOPLE WITH A HISTORY.” oe HAT was the romance connected with Hat- ton’s grandmother to which he A) so constantly but vaguely re- fers?” “Her lover jilted her and she put rat-poison in his beer.” JUbGING from the picture of Miss Adele Grant, the earl of Essex is not only happy but is going to learn how to behave himself. A HOLIDAY TUSSLE, HOARDING-HOUSE LADY—"* The butcher said it was tender.” Toanper—" Well, the evidence is strongly against that butcher's veracity," NOW THEN, IMPER- ENCE! ‘*(CCOME on, Vie,” says the editor of the Elmira Advertiser, speaking to Mrs. Woodhull, “and give us a rap over the knuckles.” In view of the syllables missing from the lady's name as used, we strongly advise the gentleman to keep his knuckles in his pockets. AN ITALIAN wanted a war- rant for a widow because THE LIF she refused to marry him; and THe RUBHER ONE—"* You're such a light-weight, GONE, BUT NOT FORGOTTED truly this is no country for ty- ‘THe CORK ONE—" Go soak yourself! You're Monday. Tuesday. rants of that kind. full of wind.” | comicbooks.com