Judge — June 29, 1895 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

ART IN CHICAGO. QN THE shore of the great sea of Michigan stands Chicago's lone museum of art. Heaps of sand invest on each side. In the rear roar thousands of suburban trains. In front of it, on the boule- vard, roll the yellow- and red- wheeled chariots of the aris- tocracy. Two gigantic bronze African lions guard the en- trance, there being no ani- mals in America sufficiently colossal for the western im- agination. A stranger, who daily passed and repassed, mistook this structure, with rare intuition, for the county jail—not that there is anything in its architecture suggestive of art which might have led him aright, but rather because its forbidding exterior made him suppose that desperate characters were incarcerated within. , Noticing the sign, “ Open Wednesday nights,” the stranger concluded that, having many erratic ways, westerners might throw wide the doors of their jails to allow the public to condole with the criminals. He would go. Now it happened that on the night selected Mrs. Northside, president, had assembled the members to regale them with an essay on some pre- historic feet-prints found on the stones of the quarry at Hawthorne. ON ENGLISH,” OUTBUCKED. Texas rony— Gee whiz! I thought I was pretty good at bucking, but I ain't in it with that horse.”* ‘The stranger was astounded at various exposed models of the nude that confronted him when he entered, and he gazed in admiration at these exhibitions which must render criminals more contented with their lot. When he got into the assembly-room Mrs. President Northside had arisen to address the distinguished members of the institute, His astonishment at the array of what he supposed to be well-dressed criminals knew no bounds. Mrs. Northside had covered the walls with specimens of feet-tracks taken from the quarry, at which the audience was gazing with feelings of admiration. “We are assembled.” she asserted, ‘to calmly and dispassionately discuss these remarkabie evidences of an ancestry of which we have had no suspicion and which will tend to show that we are not so young a city as New-Yorkers and other envious persons would have us believe. Take, for example, this specimen foot- track, eighteen inches in length and six inches in breadth. Will any one dare to deny that this is the print of the foot of a Chicago woman? Can you look at these prints of feet moulded in stone and allege that there were not many of these primeval Chicago women promenading in Devon- ian times, several million years ago? No,my hearers; we have here the evidence that prehistor- ic man was a Chicago man, and — i a “CAN'T BE BEAT." Suage Bis dpa Ue, A TWENTIETH-CENTURY INCIDENT. Mr. Burn (afrightedly)—"* Oh-0-0-0! oh-0-0-0! Quick, love! There's a horrid little snake back of that bush, Oh-o-0-0! I know I shall faint.” Mrs, Sue. BURB (witkeringly)—"" Hand me your parasol and stop scream- ing while I kill it. You're getting too masculine to suit me altogether.” that in his times, as to-day, the Chicago woman was in every way his peer physically, as she undoubtedly was mentally. The biblical expression might be changed to read, * By their feet ye shall know them.’ ” At this point the stranger began to get uneasy. He could not but suspect that his surmises as to the character of the place had been wrong; that he might, after all, be in an asylum instead of a jail. “May I trouble you, madam,” he asked politely, rising and edging toward the door, “to inform me for what offense so intelligent a lady as yourself was committed here ?"* “No offense at all,” she sweetly replied, naturally misunderstanding him and pleased at the implied compliment. “No offense is committed here by asking questions. It is my duty, as well as pleasure, to instruct the world in a knowledge of the truly artistic. If there are no more queries Mr. Stockyards wil! please pass the hat, after which we will adjourn to the sandwich-room and refresh the inner person at ten cents per sandwich.” WILLIAM Mt, BALLOU. AN IMPORTANT QUESTION. Clara (on a bicycle) —" Ethel, dea have a question I want to ask of you.” Ethel— Yes, Clara.” Clara— Are my bloomers on straight?” went ren — AN ELASTIC CONSCIENCE. Isaacstein—"' Shakey, go down mit Solomon's unt say your fadder vants te puy a gross ohf susbenders, Tell him I vas all oud obf ‘em unt gan‘d get my order filled fram New Vork fur more dan a vee Jaxey—" Bud ve ain‘d oud ohf stog, fadde SAACSTEIN—"* Certainly nod; bud Solomon vill refuse to sell, unt den, tlinking he haf a gorner on der marged. vill marg ub his endire stog fifdy per cend. und I vill ged der drob on him.”